Free Burnout: the mystery of Space Shuttle STS-281 by Stephanie Osborn Page B

labeled "Jackson, L." He unzipped it halfway and pulled the bag a few inches apart.
    Crash looked down, blanched, and spun away. "Oh, God," he whispered fervently, fighting back a gag reflex. The alert coroner zipped the bag and slammed the drawer closed.
    * * * *
    Suddenly Crash was standing by the burning wreckage of an F-4 on the landing strip near the Demilitarized Zone, watching in horror as the screaming GIB fought his way clear of the flames and debris, flight suit ablaze. The runway crew doused the man with water and foam as fast as they could, but not in time to prevent severe burns over most of his frame. The stench of burnt meat filled the air as a blue haze rose from the GIB's body. Behind the GIB, Crash could see the pilot's corpse, still in the wreckage, blackening and shriveling in the fire. He turned away as his stomach lurched, and found himself vomiting violently on the edge of the landing strip.
    * * * *
    "Crash, are you going to be okay?" Gayle worried, slipping an arm around him. "I should've warned you…"
    "No. I'm… I'm all right, Gayle. I just… didn't think. Somehow, I was… I was expecting to just… see Jet's face. It… brings back some old memories, too…"
    "Nam?"
    "Yeah…"
    "Mr. Murphy, why don't you sit down over here for a minute?" a grave Dr. Harrison suggested in concern, leading them over to a chair across the room and easing the former flight controller into it. "Dr. Tippett, let's give him a moment alone to collect himself. If you'll step into my office for a second, I'll give you back the crew's medical records…" The two doctors moved off.
    Aw, damn, Jet, Crash thought, burying his head in his hands, desperate to blot out the horrible memory of what he'd just seen. What happened to you, buddy? What did you have to go through, and why did it happen?
    Gayle came back with a stack of folders and bent over him. "Crash? You okay?"
    Crash raised his head, still pale. "Yeah. Ready to go?"
    "Uh-huh. Take these and give me your keys." She handed him the stack of folders and held out her hand.
    "Why?" Crash fished in his pocket, extracting the keys.
    "I'm driving. You've had a bad shock. Just lean back and ride. It's not like I haven't driven your truck a few times before."
    * * * *
    On the way back to JSC, Crash idly thumbed through the blue manila file envelopes Gayle had handed him. Opening Jet's, he leafed through it absent-mindedly, then stopped all of a sudden and started over, taking more care this time. Flipped all the way through, and started over again.
    Gayle glanced at him as she drove, curious, seeing his puzzled expression. "What's wrong?"
    "There's been some mistake, Gayle. These aren't Jet's medical records."
    "What do you mean? Of course they are."
    Crash extracted an x-ray and held it up to the windshield. "Where's the pin?"
    "What?!"
    "The pin in Jet's left arm. He broke his wrist in a bad landing out at Edwards in an experimental. The medics did a good job, and Jet didn't lose any mobility, but they pinned one of the bones back together. There are no pins in these x-rays. They don't belong to Jet."
    Dr. Tippett pulled Crash's battered old white truck to the road shoulder, throwing gravel in the process. "You're right! Let me see those!"
    Quickly the flight surgeon went through the stack of medical records, then raged, furious. "Blast it! How did this happen? But… but the names are on everything… oh, damn. These are good. Made to look just like the real thing. If I didn't know these guys so well… and if you hadn't noticed the pin missing…"
    "What?" Crash wondered.
    "None of these medical records belong to any of the crew," Gayle declared. "They're fakes. If these were what Bob used to identify the bodies--and they were--then… we may have seven bodies, but we don't have the crew of STS-281."
    * * * *
    Blake headed straight for the elevator, but was stopped along the way. "Dr. Blake," the new lieutenant stiffly addressed the scientist, "I'm Lieutenant Baker. You