“Can the pilots be called to the carpet for making a safety decision?”
“I’m sure their procedure is in place to protect the passengers.” Heather forced comfort into her voice. “We’ll be okay.”
Muffled voices around her prompted alarm.
A man shouted for help. “My wife has a terrible headache.”
A man in business class vomited.
“My son has a fever,” a woman said.
“Please, the man beside me has a nosebleed, and he can’t stop it.”
“What is going on?” Mia whispered. “All these people are suddenly sick. Frighteningly sick.”
Heather wished she had answers while horror played out around her.
“I’m afraid.” Mia’s face turned ashen.
“We have to stay calm.” Heather craved to heed her own advice.
Throughout the plane, people complained of flu-like symptoms. Another person vomited. Heather touched her stomach. A twinge of apprehension crept through her.
Nathan spoke over the interphone. “If you are experiencing physical distress, press your call button. Flight attendants will be in your area soon with damp paper towels. Use these to cover your mouth and the tops of beverages. As always, remain in your seats.”
Heather messaged ASAC Mitchell in Houston with the medical emergency report, including the symptoms.
He responded. The FBI, TSA, CDC, and Medi-Pro-Aire are on it. Are you okay?
Yes. People’s symptoms indicate a serious virus.
The doctor on board has given a similar conclusion.
She trembled as she typed. Looks similar to what Chad described in Africa.
The doctor said the same. Is the man dead?
I think so.
How many others are sick?
Heather surveyed the passengers within her sight and typed. From my seat, I see around ten in business class, and I hear the sick in economy. Will the plane divert?
No decision yet. Keep me posted. You are our eyes.
Beyond what the doctor on board relayed to those on the ground, ASAC Mitchell must believe she held the voice of reason and objectivity. The irony of their interpretation. The viruses were usually zoonotic or caused by insects, and the symptoms created intense suffering. She blinked to clear her head and not ponder the worst.
With panic gripping her in a stranglehold, she imagined what others were feeling. A man questioned why the plane hadn’t landed. A woman bolted to the galley and held her mouth. The man who held the violin marched to the business class restroom but fell face-first and vomited.
The elderly man across the aisle from her coughed. His nose trickled blood.
Heather grabbed tissues from her bag and handed them to him. “Will this help?”
“Tell me this is a nightmare.” He gripped her arm—fiery hot.
CHAPTER THREE
THE PASSENGER CALL BUTTONS dinged like stuck doorbells.
Heather faced Nathan. She’d waited in line with two other people who’d volunteered to help those infected by the virus. The Good Samaritan law applied to all of them who gave reasonable aid.
“I’m FBI, Houston.” She displayed her creds. After he read her ID, she stuck it back into her jean pocket. “How can I help?”
“We need a miracle. I’ve never experienced a sickness outbreak of this magnitude. If it hadn’t been for the extra freight freeing up thirty seats, we wouldn’t have availability in the rear economy section for the sick.”
“We’re in a holding pattern?”
“Yes, over New York City and not headed over the Atlantic.”
He didn’t have to finish his thoughts. The aircraft might be seen as a danger to any country including the US. Who was she fooling? The entire crew and passengers jeopardized the safety of American citizens on the ground. “I’m sure we’ll hear of plans to land soon,” she said. “The every-fifteen-minute updates help ease the nervous jitters.”
“In the flight deck, the captain is on SATCOM with flight ops determining a course of action. The goal is a combination of speed and locating proper facilities both for the aircraft and the passengers.” He nodded at a beverage cart near him stacked with paper towels, cleaning fluid, plastic gloves, tissues, and plastic bags. “I’d take a double shot of anything to avoid the virus. But we can’t serve food or drink as long as there’s threat of contagion.” He drew in a sharp breath. “It takes as long to spiral down into a city below us as it does to cut a straight path descent to a city a hundred miles away.”
“Looks like we’re a flying ambulance, racing the passengers toward the best and fastest medical care for a large volume of people.”
“I’m counting on it. Sad thing is if we divert to another airport, more innocent people will be infected. What other flights have been targeted? Makes me question what ground control will determine.”
Heather refused to discuss his statement. “I’ve reported our situation to the FBI and given them multiple updates. No news of any other outbreaks in Houston or other flights.”
“Something contaminated this aircraft.” He clenched his jaw. “I don’t understand. Our air-filtration system is stellar.”
“Does the same system handle the flight deck?”
“There’s a pack that goes to the pilots and one to the rest of us. But both packs are combined and constantly filter recirculated air.”
“Regardless, when the pilots use a lavatory in business class, they’re exposed on a smaller scale.”
What was the plan of action for infected pilots? Some aircrafts were equipped to fly, even land, through computer technology. She’d read nothing indicating this model had that technology.
If the plane didn’t land soon, more people could die.
Nathan studied her. “What’s the FBI calling the problem?”
“Not confirmed. They will notify the pilot once the ground agencies finalize a plan.” The virus reeked of weapons of mass destruction—WMD—and terrorism, but Nathan would find out soon enough how federal officials termed the virus outbreak.
“A shout-out to whatever deity you support might help.”
“I’ve been praying to God since the first infection.” She pointed to business class, where Mia had joined a small group. “People are gathered to pray in clusters near the front.”
“In seat belts?”
“I assume so. A flight attendant is with them.”
“An attendant has a massive headache and nosebleed.” Nathan gulped, the sound of despair. “How did this happen since takeoff? I watched these people board. They looked healthy, happy.”
Chad had relayed frightening stories about how rapidly viruses spread in third-world countries. He’d explained excruciating pain often accompanied the symptoms, but his description hadn’t captured the vivid torment around her.
“Those versed in emergency medical care are strategizing how to help us,” she said.
“Do they understand every minute that ticks by means another infected passenger?”
“I’m sure they do, but their path forward has to protect ground-based medical and law enforcement personnel from the virus while ensuring it stays contained.”
Nathan tied up a plastic bag filled with paper products used to clean up the sick. The stench tore at her stomach, and she turned her head.