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Copyright:
Wednesday, March 09, 2005 11:50:24 PM
BERMUDA TRIANGLE
ATLANTIC OCEAN
ONE HOUR LATER
Esther Schaumberg had
lived a long, eventful life. Of course, the same could be said of anyone who’d
survived the pranks and depredations of three older brothers and four younger
sisters. But all the same, she felt that she’d seen and heard just about
everything possible. And enjoyed most of the trip.
By the time she’d reached
puberty, her parents’ tiny apartment above the family delicatessen had bulged to
overflowing. But love and laughter had outweighed bitter fights over bathroom
privileges. No many how many times her father had to pound on the ceiling
beneath their feet with a broom handle to settle some noisy argument, he’d worn
a big smile every evening when he’d trudged up the narrow steps for dinner.
Holidays had brought
relatives by the score; then the store would be closed for business as family
spread out on both levels, laughing and dancing the nights away. Even then,
she’d had more cousins than she could count. And there were always new marriages
to celebrate, new babies to coo over, new deaths to mourn. Life was full of
change and excitement, even for a poor girl growing up outside Brooklyn.
Technically Reuben had
been a distaff cousin, several generations removed on one side, and fourth
cousin to her Aunt Ruth on the other side. That was how huge families went
sometimes, with cousins marrying back and forth all the time. It could get
really confusing, especially when two teenagers started making eyes at each
other. Then the grownups had to trace lineages very carefully, to make sure
things stayed legal with old Rabbi Leibowitz.
Esther hadn’t cared a bit
whether Reuben was her remote cousin or the Crown Prince of England. All through
her childhood, he’d been her chief tormentor. How he’d teased and taunted her,
pulling on her long chocolate-brown braids, sneaking frogs into her desk or
dropping spiders in her hair! And how he had laughed when she’d lost her temper,
calling him a scrawny, good-for-nothing street rat.
But she’d never forget
the summer when her family had traveled upstate to visit a genuine horse ranch.
Reuben had already graduated, and she’d envied him his newly gained freedom. She
certainly hadn’t expected him to tag along with their family, even though his
younger brothers had been invited. He’d already made it clear--in her hearing,
anyway--that he was far too sophisticated for such childish outings. But since
he hadn’t yet found a summer job, and Levi and Benjamin had begged him to
come--so he’d claimed--she’d found herself reluctantly jammed beside him in
their rusty old station wagon all the way there.
He’d been careful not to
provoke her around the adults...but when the dozen-odd youngsters had been
turned loose to ride sedate ponies one golden afternoon, he’d found ample
opportunities. The younger kids had thought he was funny, but Esther had been
incensed by his snide comments and mocking expressions. It’d seemed like all his
nasty little jokes were aimed specifically at her.
Finally she just couldn’t
stand anymore. In a blind fury, she’d spurred her little pinto pony into a
gallop, hoping to outdistance him. Then a frightened buck had dashed across the
path, barely missing them in its wild flight. Her startled pony had reared up,
throwing her to the ground.
The next thing she’d
remembered, Reuben had been holding her tightly in his arms, his dark eyes
frantic with worry.
They’d been together ever
since.
Of course, the Korean War
had delayed things for quite a few years. Reuben had felt honor-bound to
volunteer, and she’d spent plenty of long nights wondering whether his submarine
would sink in some distant ocean. Those had been dark, lean years. She’d spent
them working in her father’s deli, taking on more responsibility as his eyesight
began to fail, and sewing at nights to help her hungry family make ends meet.
Two weeks after Reuben’s
ship had finally returned to port, old Rabbi Leibowitz had married them in his
shabby little synagogue. Neither family had money for fancy wedding gifts, but
none were expected. It was enough that they were all together again, healthy and
happy and celebrating for the first time since war had been declared.
Come hell or high water,
Reuben had vowed that night, his sailing days were over. He’d learned a lot of
tricks, as the ship’s cook, that he hoped to someday use in his own restaurant.
In the meantime, he was grateful to be back on solid land, trading in his
sailor’s cap for a grubby apron.
Esther’s father had
listened to his ideas, and decided they might have merit. When he retired, he’d
eventually proclaimed, the deli would go to Reuben and Esther.
Delighted, the newlyweds
worked long, hard hours--baking, cooking, cleaning, testing out new recipes on
favored customers. Esther’s first pregnancy was only an incidental hardship, and
despite Reuben’s protests, she spent all nine months in the kitchen or behind
the counter. They celebrated Joshua’s birth by converting the tiny deli into a
small café.
Three years later,
Daniel’s early arrival coincided with their purchase of the neighboring
laundromat. Esther’s brother Samuel tore out the ugly machines and connective
walls while Reuben cooked and cleaned, and Esther nursed her newborn at the cash
register. Business began booming the moment their new restaurant opened.
By the time Sara was
toddling and Miriam was old enough to count money, the thriving restaurant had
again outgrown its available space. Rather than move to a new location, they
convinced old Ezekiel, the shoemaker, to take a well-deserved retirement. Their
neighborhood had improved over the years, so his small shop was converted into a
private area for upscale parties.
Perhaps her hair was
shorter now, and liberally streaked with gray. Perhaps she’d put on a few pounds
here and there, especially after Ezra and Malakai had been born. Perhaps her
clothes were faded and a bit old-fashioned, compared to their young redhead
companion’s sleek navy suit. But Reuben still loved her now just as much as he
had on that day she’d fallen from her pony. It had been a good life, full of fun
and its own unique brand of adventure.
True, she hadn’t traveled
much. Her precious twins had become pilots, of all things, and were always
showing pictures of the exotic places they’d visited. Daniel had followed in his
father’s footsteps, joining the Navy to see the world in one of those newfangled
nuclear submarines. And Sara had married a rich young lawyer who worked for a
firm with offices in France, Italy, and New York.
Maybe she was a homebody.
But Esther was content with that. She loved her cozy home, her spotless kitchen,
the beautiful restaurant they’d eventually passed on to Miriam. She had a dozen
grandchildren to love and spoil, and a happy marriage. What more could any
person possibly ask for?
Personally, she wasn’t
quite sure why Ezra and Malakai found flying so fascinating. After the initial
terror of takeoff, it was really quite boring. And she was not a person who
tolerated boredom well.
Fortunately she was also
outgoing, and enjoyed meeting new people. The young couple facing them were
quietly fascinating; their eyes spoke of wonders she’d never glimpsed, even if
their words were guarded. She was sure there was more about them than met the
eye.
Nothing, in her
experience, broke the ice like an entertaining grandchild story. And Joshua’s
nine-year-old twins were impish little jokers who took fiendish delight in
pulling pranks on their older sisters. Unable to resist, she’d already pulled
out pictures for their new companions to exclaim over, and was well into her
fifth story about Jonathan and Jeremiah’s latest hilarious stunt.
Suddenly she glanced out
the window, and her eyes widened. Huge black clouds were massing off the
Challenger’s slender wing. "Reuben, look! Where did that come from?"
Turbulence began to jolt
the charter, and Esther paled. She hadn’t expected anything like this...the
morning weather report had predicted clear skies!
Reuben grabbed at his
juice glass as the plane veered into a sharp turn, and began angling swiftly
away from the growing storm. He’d seen some ugly squalls whip together fast
during his years in the service, but he’d never seen anything quite like this!
The overhead speakers
crackled to life. "Ladies and gentlemen," the captain briskly informed them, "we
are changing course to avoid a storm which has formed just north of our intended
flight path. Please return to your seats, and secure your seat belts. We ask
that you do not move around the cabin at this time, as we may encounter further
turbulence."
The small plane suddenly
dipped and then bobbed back up again with a gut-wrenching tremor. Scully and
Esther gasped in unison. Then the blue sky vanished, and they were plunged into
terrifying darkness.
One of the roommates
screamed. Eerie bluish-white flashes of light darted past the oval double-paned
windows. Powerful gusts of wind hurled the plane back and forth, like a terrier
shaking a dead rat. Mulder could hear the engines laboring. Then the internal
lights flickered and died. An instant later, lightning struck the starboard wing
with a deafening roar.
They don’t call
this the Bermuda Triangle for nothing! his cynical side mocked.
Esther and Reuben were
clinging to each other, their faces white with terror. Mulder grabbed his
armrests, and found Scully’s slender hand beneath his. Her eyes were wide and
dilated with fear. "Mulder, what’s happening? It came out of nowhere!"
she yelled over the roaring confusion.
Horrified comprehension
suddenly jolted him. "Flight 501!" he gasped. "Jesus, Scully, it’s Flight 501
all over again! The sky went black, and there were blue lights everywhere!
Hang on!"
The Challenger tilted at
a crazy angle, and plunged toward the distant ocean. Terrified shrieks mingled
with shrill warning alarms, half deafening him. The entire plane was shimmering
with unearthly crackling energy.
Mulder instinctively
ducked forward and covered his head. His right hand was still clenched around
Scully’s. If we finally have to die, at least we’ll be together. The
sober realization afforded him some small comfort as hungry fire blossomed along
the shattered wing.
A low, heavy vibration
began to shake the falling plane. Tractor beam? His thoughts were growing
hazy, nonsensical, as the vibration swelled to a fierce shrill whine that grated
on every nerve in his quivering body.
It had to be a trick of
his reeling imagination, as adrenaline coursed through his veins and time seemed
to slow--yet an instant before the plane’s belly smashed into the storm-tossed
waves, it seemed to lift slightly. As if some giant hand had snatched at
it, to keep it from splintering apart!
Scully was yelling
something, but he couldn’t hear above the scream of tortured metal. Then icy
seawater sprayed across their faces as the windows fractured and shattered.
So this is what
dying is like. Not as bad as I thought it would be...
The vague thought
penetrated his dazed mind as a huge wave smashed across the battered plane,
rolling it over and over. One of the wings sheared off with a protesting shriek.
Something struck his left shoulder and he realized that it was Scully, as they
were flung back and forth like rag dolls.
Suddenly the vibration,
the rumbling, the eerie crackling faded away. Mulder’s blurred vision cleared,
and he realized that the plane was slowly settling on its belly again. Somehow,
miraculously, it was still intact.
But not for long. Ominous
creaks were already echoing through the battered cabin. The fractured hull might
split apart at any minute, sucking them deep underwater. They had to escape
before the storm got any worse!
"Scully!" He clawed at
his jammed seat belt, and fell to his knees. Strength returned slowly to his
trembling legs. Blood was seeping down his partner’s pale forehead. "Scully!
Can you hear me?" he yelled, resisting the urge to shake her limp body. "Damn
it, wake up! Don’t you dare die and leave me behind!"
Her eyelids fluttered
slightly. "Mulder?" Her voice was weak with shock, but she was regaining
consciousness. He released a ragged sigh of relief.
"My God, Mulder, what hit
us?" she whispered, wincing as she struggled to focus on his distraught face.
Then a bewildered frown slowly darkened her eyes. "You’re bleeding!"
"Am I?" He touched his
face, and stared blankly at the specks of blood dotting his fingertips.
"Fragments from the broken windows, probably."
A loud crack
nearby sent shivers down his spine. He lunged upward, batting a dangling
emergency oxygen mask aside, as water began rushing in through a widening breach
in the hull. "We’ve gotta get out of here," he ordered, reaching for her hands.
"Can you stand?"
Scully choked back an
agonized gasp, and staggered to her feet. "What choice do I have?" she muttered.
"Careful of my shoulder--I think I fractured it again!"
Reuben and Esther were
already stumbling into each other, weaving like drunk rag dolls. He spared them a
quick glance, made sure they weren’t seriously hurt. Whiplash would just have to
wait until they were safely out of the plane. Right now they had bigger
problems.
The gurgle of encroaching
waves suddenly became louder. One of the pilots was thrusting open the emergency
hatch, while the other fumbled for the life rafts. Frothy water began to spill
down the sloping aisle.
All three roommates were
clinging together, sobbing hysterically. He couldn’t see any blood, so he hoped
they were just shaken. So was the teenage girl, who was clinging to Holly, their
dazed flight attendant.
Both life rafts began to
inflate just outside the partly-submerged door. Mulder steadied his partner,
then turned to help Reuben and Esther. "Hurry, get out of here!" he yelled over
the growing tumult. "Go on! We’re right behind you!"
They managed weak nods,
and clumsily sloshed toward the sinking emergency exit.
"My bag!" Mulder whirled
as the teenage boy swayed against a lavatory door, groping through the darkness
for his knapsack. "My parents will kill me if I lose it!"
Mulder grabbed his
flailing arm, and shoved him forward. "You don’t have time for that!" he
bellowed. "The plane’s sinking! Get out of here!"
Icy saltwater was already
churning around his shins as he propelled Scully toward the exit. Suddenly the
floor jolted beneath his feet, knocking him sideways. Foamy water began pouring
through another gaping hole. Metal groaned as the plane shuddered, and tilted at
a deadly angle.
The copilot staggered
toward him, frantically reaching for his hand. He shoved Scully forward, into
the younger man’s arms. "Go on!" he shouted. "Get her out of here! Hurry!"
One of the rafts was
still bobbing outside in the heavy storm-tossed waves. "Go, Scully, go!
Grab the ropes!" he bellowed. "That’s an order!"
The plane was splitting
apart; he could feel the vibrations through his entire body as more stress
fractures parted under the water’s weight. Suddenly the encroaching ocean was a
living monster, grabbing him, crushing him, trying to sweep him off his feet!
He lunged forward,
grasping at anything, as blinding water closed over his head, and the ocean
swallowed him whole in one huge, hungry gulp...
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