The Cessna was flying at an altitude of about four kilometres when it hit turbulences. Briefly, the craft seemed to fall before Megan caught them and restored their position in a routine manoeuvre.
This however caused Skye to wake up hardly an hour into their flight to Washington. It also caused former Agent Cal Asher to take a step forward in order to retain his balance, which in turn meant his arm moved about an inch forward. Topping off the chain reaction, the gun in his hand made contact with Holt's right temple.
Skye didn't understand how he had gotten out of either the sealed-off alcove nor his handcuffs, much less obtained a weapon. But the feeling of cold barrel-steel on her forehead made her re-evaluate her priorities. While her left hand reached for the seat-belt to allow her free movement, her right hand already shot forward to secure Asher's wrist. He cocked the gun, but Skye managed to jump up in time, divert his arm and the shot his the ceiling.
"The fuck is going on back there?" Laurie shouted when the weapon went off.
Without even a second of hesitation, Asher fired his gun another three times.
Skye registered the sound, Asher's motion of pulling the trigger, and then Casey's shout. The next moment, she was lying on the floor, having missed hitting her head on the side table by inches. Casey had pushed her out of the way, and was now holding her down.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Asher said, stressing the 'you', half angry, half disappointed. He had to duck slightly since he was taller than the cabin was high.
"This wasn't our agreement!" Jake shouted back.
Asher just laughed, but Holt had recovered from her shock. "Casey, what's he talking about? How did he get out?" She started putting up a struggle, but her position was adverse. She couldn't see Megan. "Let go of me," she said angrily.
Asher spoke up in his place, "She's cute, isn't she?" He wasn't laughing anymore. "Nothing money can't buy, sweetheart. Especially when it comes to people."
Disbelieving, the Dane looked at Casey. He refused to meet her eyes, and his grip loosened. Fury welled up in her. In a matter of seconds she had reached to his hip and got hold of his side-arm, her knee impacted on his stomach, sending him rolling on his side. The next moment, Skye was on her feet and aiming at Asher. "Drop your weapon."
Before either of them could react further, the plane drastically swerved to the right. Skye stumbled and just managed to steady herself on one of the seats, while Casey rolled into the middle aisle. Asher fell sidewise onto another seat, gasped and another shot fired from his direction.
Casey screamed, and curled up even more.
It took Holt way too long to understand what had happened, but then it came all at once in one avalanche of comprehending. The first shot had missed her because Casey had dragged her to the floor, but it had hit Megan. Skye could see her now. The woman had fallen forward across the yoke and had dragged it to one side. The plane, subsequently, had mimicked the movement and turned sharply to the right, now continuing in a wide spiral. Skye hurled back around, and pulled the trigger.
Despite the unplanned turbulences, the bullet went where she wanted it, straight through Asher's shoulder. He screamed and dropped the gun, before sagging to the floor himself.
The plane was shaking, and the sharp contrast to their calm gliding through the air just minutes earlier was terrifying.
"Meg," Skye said determinedly, crouching next to her seat. "Megan, can you hear me?"
The pilot still had a hand on her neck where the bullet had hit, but she had lost consciousness.
Skye pulled her up by the shoulders, away from the steering. Her mind was racing. She had to get her out of the seat and get the plane back up, also stop the bleeding and get her to wake up, at the same time get Asher under control without killing him. And not die in the process. Too many things.
"I'm... sorry," Jake hissed on the floor. His eyelids were flickering rapidly, his breathing was heavy and rattling. He was clutching his abdomen, but blood was seeping through his jacket and already drenched the carpet. The stray bullet had hit home, too.
The plane shook precariously. Skye grabbed the yoke with one hand. Let go of the gun or of Megan?
Too many things.
Skye diverted her attention again. She kept her voice clear but it sounded too loud in her ears. "Jake, look at me!"
"I never meant to hurt you," he rasped.
"Shut up and look at me, I need you here, okay?"
Instead, for the second time this morning, Skye felt a gun at her forehead. Asher was holding his shoulder, but otherwise seemed remarkably unfazed. "You can fly this thing?"
Skye looked at him with all the unmasked hatred in her eyes.
Asher didn't miss a beat and lowered the gun, now aiming at Casey's head. "Get us back up or he gets it."
"Don't," Casey coughed up blood.
"And drop the gun."
Skye straightened and did what he said. It was difficult to keep her balance in the askew conditions, but he had one point, this plane needed to be brought under control or they would all bite the dust, quite literally. She wasn't allowed to feel overchallenged now. This could still be fixed.
She swallowed her emotions. "Hold on, Jake, okay? You're gonna be fine." Without bothering to move slowly she turned back to Megan, very aware of Asher next to her.
"Megan, I need you to wake up," she tried and unbuckled her seatbelt, but before she could get Agent Laurie upright, Asher dragged the pilot backwards by her collar. He fired two more rounds into the Meg's unconscious form sprawled over the instruments, and then dragged her out of the seat.
He turned back to Holt. "Get us back up." He pronounced every word very clearly.
Skye forced herself to stop trembling. She could smell the gunpowder in the air. She swallowed hard, then climbed into the seat and wiped the blood of the altimeter. They were way too low.
Taking over the plane, she went into team leader mode. "Give me her headphones."
"Why?" Asher was still aiming the gun at her, steadying himself against the co-pilot's seat. They were fast. Really fast.
"Because I need to call for help!"
He laughed. "You're not gonna call anyone. You're gonna divert us to Mexico."
"Look, I don't know if you've noticed, but this plane is going down!" she shouted. She stole a glance at him and could almost see the gears in his head turning. No time for that now. "We're way too low already, we are going to crash no matter what, it's only a question of whether we'll be alone in the desert or if there will be someone there to find us, now give me the fucking headphones!"
He gave in, yanked the bulky thing off from around Laurie's neck without much care, and handed it to Skye.
The agent tried to ignore her friend's blood on it as she put it on and pulled the mic down to send a signal. "Mayday mayday mayday, anyone, come in." Her voice was clear and sober. She repeated the call several times.
The plane had been manoeuvred out of the spiral course, but was still unresponsive to trying to pull it back up, and the velocity rush was killing her, but she would never show weakness in front of Asher.
"Asher, I need you to get to a seat and buckle up," she called out. Before he could respond, she added, "No one is answering and we're going down fast, get in the back!"
As much as she disliked turning her back on someone with a loaded gun, she needed him alive. If they survived this, he would pay for what he'd done, she would see to that.
Apparently she had managed to get through to him, because he disappeared from her side without a word. A crashing plane has a way of making people listen to their pilot.
"Mayday mayday mayday, is anyone receiving?" she said again, not allowing despair to enter her voice. "Flight N216, mayday mayday mayday."
The ground was coming nearer with breathtaking speed. Tears entered her eyes. She had never landed a plane like this before, and she wasn't sure if –
"This is Ground Control," a voice suddenly rang through her head.
Skye's eyes widened in relief. Somebody was receiving, meaning somebody was in reach, meaning she could do this.
"You are entering air space of Restricted Area 4808 North, you are not cleared to approach. Over," the voice continued.
Holt didn't have time for this. "November 216 calling mayday mayday mayday," she confirmed quickly, "inbound for emergency landing, over."
There was a brief silence filled with slight static noises, then finally, "216, ident. Over."
Skye exhaled deeply and reached for the ident button, but it wasn't there anymore. "Unable to comply. Aircraft is a Cessna 680-"
The reply came immediately. "We are authorised to use deadly force if you do not comply. Over."
Oh, this was fucking great. "We are losing altitude rapidly and the ident button has taken a bullet. Over!" she all but shouted.
Again, silence for a couple of seconds. Skye was about to call them again, when the reply came. "216, say again?"
"I said, we are losing altitude rapidly," she repeated, fully aware that that was not what he wanted to hear. "Sinking speed too high, instruments failing, over."
Again, the other side took their time. Then, "Stand by."
Skye gasped. "Det er sgu da løgn," she cursed, losing her patience and getting increasingly more anxious in face of the looming impact. Then she continued, speaking as fast and clearly as she could. "Ground Control! Requesting immediate assistance, landing conditions not ideal." That being the understatement of the century, she swallowed her fury. They were seriously not responding. By now she could make out details on the ground, even though it mainly consisted of rocky desert terrain, and realised she had to do this on her own. She pressed the button to extend the wheels, praying they would survive the velocity, prepared herself to hit the ground.
"Ground Control, please respond," she tried again, but no one cared to answer. They were ditching her. They were seriously ditching her. Skye's fingers tightened around the steering, trying in vain to flatten the plane's angle at least a bit more. One last try, before impact, she thought. Maybe they would get Casey out, maybe he still had a chance. "We have wounded aboard," she shouted into the mic, seconds away from the ground. "I repeat, we have-"
The plane hit bottom at way too much speed. She could feel the wheels being torn away below her, metal groaned and complained along with her head which was tossed back against the seat, but the velocity still wouldn't stop. Skye's headphones flew off and landed on the floor. The whole body of the aircraft kept sliding for what felt like hours. The noise was unbearable, impossible to pinpoint what it was she was hearing or where all the roaring was coming from. Something impacted somewhere to her left, and Skye suddenly felt wind and the cabin re-pressurising itself. There was more light as well, hot sunlight hitting her skin. The ffollowing shudder made everything tremble, the plane that used to feel so solid and safe shifted achingly to one side and left everything tumbling to the right as if they were spiralling downwards all over again.
And then, finally, it stopped.
