The water pummeled Mike’s face like a personal vendetta.
Even with the precious seconds he’d had to jump free of the dinghy, all control was ripped from his hands as the explosion of water ruptured in front of him when the airliner hit.
He was being dragged down to the darkest depths of the Irish Sea, his arms and legs thrashing to fight the suction of the vortex. Panic filled him. He didn’t know if he was up or down, if he was swimming in the direction of the surface or the bottom.
His lungs burned as he tried to combat the fear that was freezing his joints. Something hard slammed into his side spinning him end over end in torturously slow circles. He only had a moment to pray for Sarah, Gavin and the baby before his head broke the surface. He sucked in gasps of breath.
“Da!”
Thank you, God. Mike’s eyes were blurred and stinging, blinding him to all but the sunlight overhead. He felt hands tugging his arm and he twisted his head in Gavin’s direction.
“Da! You’re bleeding!”
“Get to the shore,” Mike gasped, his eyesight clearing just enough to make out Gavin’s face. “Swim to…” He swallowed more water as a large wave swamped him. The water turned black around them. It was thick with debris, with oil.
Gavin released him and began to swim for the shore. One hundred meters, no more. Mike’s limbs were heavy and when his feet touched something soft but solid that shouldn’t be there fear race up his spine. He turned in the direction toward shore behind Gavin.
The solid form beneath his feet fell away. Mike focused on his strokes. Water filled his mouth and nose but he didn’t stop to cough or retch. He plunged on through the water until he saw Gavin reach the beach and collapse. The sight gave Mike the strength he needed. His boy was safe. Now he just had to join him. The further he swam from the roiling vortex the less the water fought him.
He knew he was tiring, but the shore was close now. His waterlogged boots were like twin weights anchoring him to the seabed. He hadn’t thought to kick them free. He dog paddled closer to the shore. His calf muscles spasmed violently. Suddenly, he felt the shelf under his feet. Two more hard strokes and he was standing. Five more steps and the water was to his waist.
The air was silent. No cries for help. Just the lapping sound of debris and junk scraping the shore.
Finally he fell forward to crawl the rest of the way out of the water. He collapsed next to Gavin, trembling and breathless.
“Da,” Gavin said in a whisper. “What happened?”
Before Mike could answer, Gavin make a strangling sound and scrambled to his feet. The surf surged an object onto the beach next to Mike. When he turned to look, he saw it was a woman’s body. Headless.
Mike recoiled and dragged himself to his feet. He saw the airliner’s fuselage protruding from the center of the Irish Sea where they’d been fishing. The surrounding water was thick with debris. And bodies.
Mike blinked several times to clear his vision, then turned to follow Gavin into the woods. The terrain dropped away when he hit the first line of trees and he stumbled. Gavin was already standing by the Jeep.
Mike staggered the last few yards to the vehicle. Gavin stood with his back against the Jeep staring over Mike’s shoulder.
The sky was dark with fluttering debris as pieces of the airliner’s cabin rained down on them.
“Should we…do something…?” Gavin asked.
“Nay,” Mike rasped, leaning against the car. “There’ll be no survivors.”
“I didn’t hear an explosion. Did you?”
Mike turned and felt the solid comfort of the Jeep against his back as he leaned into it, his legs shaking from his swim.
“No.”
“The engines were going one minute and the next…” Gavin shook his head. “It just fell out of the sky.”
“Are ye all right, lad? Can you drive? ”
Gavin nodded but he seemed unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of the detritus of everyday life onboard a transatlantic airline now scattered to the winds.
“Should we…see if there’s anything to salvage?” Gavin asked tentatively.
“Nay, lad.” Mike watched the dark form of a body bobbing alongside the visible part of the wing of the airliner. They would do better to get back to the nunnery as soon as possible. “Let’s go. We can’t do anything here.”
As Gavin turned from the terrible sight, Mike put a hand on his shoulder. With so much death suddenly surrounding them—of people who were drinking cocktails and watching movies just minutes ago—it felt vital to feel the solid flesh and bone of his lad.
Gavin looked at him. “You okay, Da?”
“Aye,” Mike said gruffly, turning away before Gavin could see the emotion in his eyes. He jerked open the passenger’s side door and fell into the seat. The sun from the September day had ebbed away leaving only the chill of the coming autumn.
Gavin got in the driver’s seat and inserted the key in the ignition.
“We lost our tackle,” he said. “And all our catch.”
Mike closed his eyes. “We’ll find more.”
The sound of the ignition clicking filled the Jeep’s interior.
“It won’t start,” Gavin said. He turned the key again. Nothing. Mike looked again in the direction of where the airliner went down.
Oh, shit.