HEAVY RAIN SPLATTERED against the cockpit windows, setting off a choppy cavalcade of sound as Ashley neared McCarran International. She continued losing altitude to avoid the heavy flight traffic serviced by that airport. She knew Vegas Approach Control would see her on their scopes when she crossed the 50-mile radius in only a few minutes. She opened her emergency radio frequency to ATC. "DC-3 November-One, Four, Niner-Lima. Do you read me Albuquerque, acknowledge?"
She received an immediate response. "One, Four, Niner, yes we read you. You are below your assigned altitude. Climb and level at 8000. Maintain speed and heading."
The stabbing pain behind her eyes persisted. The instrument panel became a blur. She reached out to touch the bulkhead–a solid and stationary object giving her balance. Come on old girl get it together. You only need two hours, maybe less.
Her headphones squawked, "One, Four, Niner. Do you copy?"
"Sorry Albuquerque. Is this Ryan Simpson?"
"Affirmative. Talk to me."
"I'm descending into Class G airspace to avoid McCarran traffic."
"Negative, Ashley. Central Control Center in Virginia has cleared all McCarran traffic both into and out of LAS. You have a clear sky."
Ashley, still holding on to the bulkhead, felt her focus return. "Read back?"
"We know about the 500-foot detonation and your plan to reach restricted airspace. All flights in and around your sector have been grounded or rerouted. Nellis Air Force Base is Code Red."
Stunned by this response, Ashley squeezed her eyes shut and drew a deep breath. This meant ATC approved of her plan and would aid her as she carried it out. Thousands of people, who will never know the danger they faced have a greater chance to live now. "How can I say thank you?"
A moment passed. "You just did."
The altimeter read 4000. Ashley began a slow ascent, which would conserve fuel by slowly gaining altitude this far out. While checking her instruments, she explained to Simpson the details of her controlled descent starting at 12500 and forty six miles from the designated termination point. She asked for confirmation that this approach profile would put her 30 miles west and 40 miles east of any human habitation. After a minute, Simpson came back online. “Your calculations are correct. You are to be commended.” Ashley bowed her head in relief and at the same time felt a touch of pride in her accomplishment.
A half an hour later her altimeter read 8000 feet. The rain had stopped and clouds started to dissipate. Clearly the weather front had passed this point. To her amazement the moon came into view, and minutes later it shown bright and clear. This change in conditions gave her confidence that weather would no longer be a factor. She continued her slow ascent.
At 12:28 she glanced out of the window. It offered her a grand sight. She saw the sparkling multicolored lights of the Las Vegas strip and thought of her only visit to Vegas years ago during happier times.
When she crossed over North Las Vegas she started her final ascent to her target altitude of 12500 feet. In five minutes she would level out for two minutes and begin the final approach.
Suddenly two sets of blinking lights appeared on either side of her aircraft. Sleek jet fighters with aerodynamic swept-back wings shot by her window, and swooped up and out of sight in seconds. She could feel her plane shudder from their wake turbulence. In less than a minute they reappeared, flying much slower this time. She immediately switched to frequency 122.750 for air-to-air communication. A man's voice spoke to her.
"Good morning, little lady. My buddy and I thought we'd escort you for just a bit. Courtesy of the United States Air Force." A second voice chimed in, "Yes, ma'am it's our privilege, to say the least."
Surprised, Ashley said the first thing that came to mind. "Thank you, gentlemen, it’s not every day a woman gets two escorts on short notice."
"We can't stay long–orders you know, but we want to recognize that your bravery will save thousands and prevent a bloody world war. It's an honor to salute you."
Ashley watched as both jet fighters moved ahead and dipped their wings in an aviator's gesture of respect for a superior comrade. For a few seconds she didn't breathe.
That persistent pain behind her eyes brought her back to the real world. She tried to ignore it. The altimeter read 12000. One minute and she would level out.
A jumble of thoughts crowded Ashley's mind. She thought of Bashir, who she had cheated out of his evil goal to murder a million Americans. She thought of her mother and hoped she would be pleased with her little girl who would soon sacrifice her life, so others would live. A sacrifice much like the one her mother made on that terrible day in New York. And she thought of Walter. There was so little time. She had to talk to Walter.
Ashley switched back to the emergency frequency and keyed her mike. "Albuquerque, is Walter Kent there?"
"Yes, here he is."
She braced herself. This would be hard, but she owed him.
Walter started out, "Ashley isn't there some way..."
She spoke softly. "Walter, I want you to listen. Don't talk. Just listen. I only have two minutes." Ashley felt an ache in her throat that hurt. "I want to tell you I'm sorry. That night when I told you about my Mom and cried in your arms, I didn't have the strength to tell you what I felt. What my heart knew and my brain refused to admit. For the first time I found someone I wanted to share my life with. I knew it then, but didn't say it. I want to tell you now. You are the only person I have ever and wanted to be with. I tell you this because I want you to know. I need for you to know even though I'm afraid it will hurt you. I 'm sorry for that, too." Ashley struggled as tears flooded her eyes. "Forgive me Walter. Please forgive me for what might have been."
Ashley shut down the radio, sat back and screamed at the night. A long, loud wail of bitter anguish and emotional pain. At that moment she wanted to live. Wanted to be a normal woman, a wife and a mother. Wanted to share the intimacy of a loving partnership and feel the warmth of a baby next to her heart. But that was no longer possible because her life would soon end.
It was time. Ashley adjusted the power settings, manifold pressure and engine RPM's to begin her final descent. With care she positioned, and then immobilized the yoke. She had twenty-four minutes to live.