Havana, Baby!

She gave me a list of things to bring. It wasn't enough to last more than four or five days. I collapsed Tater's wire crate and filled a few zip-tops with food and treats. All of it plus two suitcases went into the back of the SUV. Our dog was quite happy when I withdrew his leash out of the drawer. He only knew we were going bye-bye, a phrase he understood to be different than a walk.

A half hour after Brandi's call, he'd already curled himself up and was asleep in the floorboard of the front passenger seat as I drove west on Interstate 70.

Once I'd let my nerves settle a little more, I made another call at Brandi's request.

RYAN QUINCY
Overland Park, Kansas
Sunday, March 15, 2020 8:30pm

The name on my phone's screen was that of a man I'd first met a few years before when he started dating my former next-door neighbor. We got to know each other fairly quickly and became friends. They moved to the St. Louis area a few months after they married.

"Hey, Rob," I said cautiously, not knowing if he was aware of what was happening.

"Have you heard what's going on at the airport there?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, thankful I wouldn't have to be the bearer of horrible news. "Is Brandi alright? Cam looked up the roster for the flight as soon as the station mentioned its number, so we know she was the captain. Please tell me you have some good news."

Cameron muted the television as she listened to my half of the discussion.

"She's safe, thank god," Rob said, "though she's in the hospital due to smoke inhalation. I spoke to her about forty-five minutes ago. She sounded a little weak, but otherwise okay."

My wife could see my expression of relief and my not-quite-vertical thumbs up.

"That's so good to hear. I think the news should know by now which one of the crew was lost, right? I'm guessing they're keeping it close to the vest until the family can be notified."

"Brandi thinks she knows, but it's not my place to say."

"Rob, come on. It's us. We know what's what. Cameron is good friends with one of the ladies, someone named Kennedy Ames. Is she the one?"

"No. A woman named LaTasha White is unaccounted for. I was with Brandi during the middle of her sequence. I met her. She was a gregarious and humorous woman, and I feel for those who were close to her if it's true."

"I'm going to put you on speaker, okay?"

"Sure. Has the news said anything else? I haven't heard an update in almost an hour."

"Not much. You know how it goes. Lots of speculation and no real facts."

"Figures.

"Um … the reason I'm calling is because I'm on the interstate heading to Kansas City. Brandi said the crew might have to stay put until the feds let them go home. I didn't have time to find a sitter, all the kennels are closed for the night, so I had to bring Tater with me. I didn't have time to look for pet-friendly hotels⁠—"

Cameron was gesturing and nodding vigorously toward the phone I held.

"You all are staying with us. Accommodations should be the least of your concerns. Anything either of you need, ask."

"Thanks, Ryan. I think Brandi is going to need to lean on her friends for a while. My ETA is showing three hours."

"We'll stay up. See you soon," I said before disconnecting the call.

"It could have been me," my wife said. "I fly out of here ten times more often than Brandi does since they moved."

"It wasn't, thank God."

"Please hold me, Ryan. I need you to hold me."

I shut off the TV and brought Cameron into my arms.

BRANDI
Kansas City, Missouri, St. Luke's Hospital
Sunday, March 15, 2020 11:12pm

"Brandi Grant?" a woman wearing a coat with NTSB emblazoned on its breast inquired as she stepped into my room.

"That's me," I answered.

"My name is Sarah Anchors. I'm with the Omaha district office of the National Transportation Safety Board. I'm one of several who are assisting with the field work for this investigation. How are you feeling?"

The introductory conversation was easier considering the oxygen mask had been substituted for a nasal cannula. Both of my arms were sore, though, from the seemingly constant blood draws. The hospital was running a ton of tests because there was a concern that Mac and I had inhaled toxic smoke.

She placed an audio recorder on my table.

"I'm sure you're tired, and I'll respect your time as best I can so you can rest. Please, start from the top, and tell me everything you heard, saw, and did."

"Like how far to the top?"

"From the moment you arrived at the gate for the incident flight."

It required fifteen minutes to fully answer her question. She listened without a single interruption.

"Okay. Did you pull the CVR's breaker?"

"The cockpit voice recorder's?" I asked, seeking clarification, and receiving a nod. "That step isn't in the QRH, but it's company procedure. I pulled it before I opened the flight deck door and got doused with smoke."

"Good. Now, please describe in more detail as much as you can remember about your evacuation."

"I thought Mack and I could evacuate via the number one door, but as soon as I opened the cockpit, smoke poured in. I thought I was going to pass out because I was coughing in more of the stuff. Mack⁠—Franklin McGarry, my first officer, was behind me. I guess he didn't get hit as fast. He must have been able to hold his breath long enough to grab the mask from the jump-seat position and put it on me. Then, he put on his own. I got a few coughs of nothing but pure oxygen, enough that my brain started reengaging.

"He said, 'We have to use the fucking rope!' Those were his exact words. I hadn't done an emergency decent from one of those damned things in a year, and, even then, there was a safety mat on the ground. Boeing really needs to redesign them. A few pounds of extra weight to make loops which feet and hands can use ? Come on!"

"That may very likely find its way into the final report, especially considering your first officer broke his ankle on his descent. Please, continue."

"He insisted I go first. An argument over chivalry versus the captain being the last one out would've been an idiotic delay. The heat felt searing as I went down, and some burning Jet A was beginning to get close to the cockpit. Emergency vehicles were coming from everywhere, and I was worried a passenger might be run over like what happened with the Asiana incident at SFO in 2013. I helped Mack off the ground, and a few people ran to us to assist.

"The Embraer⁠—the plane behind ours. Do you know anything about it?"

"Not much," the woman answered, "other than they're missing nine."

My heart became even heavier than it already was.

"Three flight attendants and I did a headcount of the passengers at our muster. I knew there should have been a hundred seventy⁠—"

"Don't worry yourself about those specifics, ma'am. When your doctor discharges you, we'll need you to stay nearby for a while. Maybe three or four days. If your company won't cover a hotel, I can get you vouchers⁠—"

"My husband is on his way here, and we'll be staying with friends in Overland Park."

"Okay. How can I contact you?"

"I lost my phone during the evac," I answered, but provided the number anyway. "I might have a replacement tomorrow some time."

"Try to get some rest. I know it might seem difficult, but you'll need it. I'll be in touch."

ROBIN
Monday, March 16, 2020 1:17am

"Real Housewives? Now ?" I asked after stepping into her room and hearing unmistakable guff.

"Robin!" she yelped, stretching her arms toward me. "I thought you would be here sooner!"

"God, Brandi, I'm so glad you're alright," I whimpered as I hugged her tightly. "I had to drop Tater off at the Quincys' first."

She quickly scooted to a side of her bed to make room for me. I held her in my arms as she began to cry. Both the nurse who entered to change her IV, as well as the one who came a half hour later to check her vitals, were wise enough to refrain from demanding I exit the bed as their patient's husband held his grieving and emotionally devastated wife.

BRANDI
Overland Park, Kansas
Monday, March 16, 2020 1:14pm

I watched Robin load a freshly grilled cheeseburger with tomatoes and pickles. I'd been discharged from the hospital two hours earlier, and Ryan had prepared lunch.

When I followed him to the table instead of preparing one for myself, Robin asked, "Not eating?"

"No. I don't have much of an appetite."

"Come on, honey. You haven't eaten since dinner yesterday."

"Things don't smell right. My nose apparently got the worst of it. Even the fries taste funny."

"Maybe some ice cream or something sweet, instead?" Cameron offered.

"Nah, not right now, but, again, thank you both so much for your hospitality."

"You're always welcome here. Have you heard any news about your copilot?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah. Good news, in fact. He came and saw me after he was discharged this morning. His ankle wasn't broken, just badly sprained."

"How on earth do those ladders even work?" Cameron asked.

"Poorly. And calling it a ladder is being kind. It's a rope with knots tied in it for grips. When I was doing my training, I was taught to wrap it around one leg a few times and step on knots between my feet, one on top of the other, like this." I demonstrated. "It adds more friction on the way down. Mack didn't do that. He just went hand over hand. He lost his grip or something about four feet off the ground, landed wrong, and rolled his ankle."

"So, he's grounded, too?" asked Ryan.

"Yeah. Our medical certificates have been suspended."

"Any idea how long?" asked Cameron.

"None. I don't know how this sort of thing goes, but I know I'll go stir-crazy if I'm not working. Sitting around constantly thinking about what happened isn't going to do me any good. Robin works at his keyboard, but I have no such talents."

"The training center might be able to use your expertise. You don't have to have a medical to work in the simulators, do you?"

"You know what? That's a fantastic idea," I said appreciatively. "I only wonder how much time it's going to take for the NTSB to untie me. Don't get me wrong. I'm glad to be catching up with you guys, but I'm sure you don't want us living here for weeks."

"As long as it takes, Brandi. I mean it. It's no trouble. Besides, Dasha is happy to see all of you, too," Ryan encouraged, referring to their Siberian husky laying at Robin's feet.

My phone started going nuts with back-to-back notifications.

"Ah. The re-sync is starting," I said.

"Mercy." Ryan chuckled as the tones continued. "What the heck is that all about?"

Once it stopped, I unlocked it. A had bazillions of texts, emails, social media notifications, et cetera. The first few were the same flavor.

Did you see the thing that happened with your airline in Kansas City?

"Good lord," I groaned. "How am I supposed to respond to these?"

"Don't give any specifics other than that you're safe," Cameron advised. "Remember what happened to that guy based in New York when he posted something online during a different sort of investigation and they sent the warning to every employee?"

"Oh. I forgot about that," I answered. "Thanks for reminding me."

I brought my phone with me, leaving the three at the table eating their burgers. I sat on the couch to review the messages.

After about ten minutes, I checked emails and opened the first one in my work inbox.

Captain Grant,
I seldom do this, but I wanted to let you know personally how enjoyable it is working with you. You're great at unifying a team in a way I've never come across. A lot of folks I fly with just "do their job," slam-click, then go home. You make it fun and enjoyable. I certainly hope our paths cross again!
Kindest regards,
LaTasha White

"Babe? You okay?" Rob asked me after a minute. I guess he saw something about me change.

"No. I got an email from LaTasha. She sent it just before we pushed back last night. I need some air. I'm taking Tater for a walk."

I grabbed the dog's leash. The sound of it immediately brought Tater to my side.

"I'll come with you," he said.

"No. I need some time alone to think."

ROBIN
Monday, March 16, 2020 2:45pm

I gave her space, but when she hadn't returned after more than an hour, I began to worry. I tried calling her, but found she'd left her phone behind on the coffee table. I put it in my pocket before I walked outside and looked up and down the sidewalk to both ends of the street. I didn't see her anywhere.

Hell. We'd walked our favorite routes probably a hundred times when we still lived there, and never did it take more than forty-five minutes, unless …

I drove our SUV around the neighborhood to see if she'd stopped to talk with any of our former neighbors but didn't spot her until I checked the shopping center at the corner of Camberton Road. I found her and our pup sitting on the patio of the sports bar. The weather was still unseasonably warm, so it didn't surprise me she'd be there. My arrival was unnoticed by both as I parked and went inside.

"A pint of Blue Moon, and I'll cover that lady's tab," I said, pointing outside.

He filled a glass and said, "Makin' a play on the hottie, huh?"

"She's my wife, dude ," I said, mimicking his surfer-boy voice.

I wanted to laugh, but I managed to keep my face straight when his immediately showed his embarrassment. I only hoped he wouldn't repeat such an idiotic gaffe on anyone else.

Brandi sighed when I sat at her table. "You just can't leave me be, can you."

"I was looking for Tater," I lied.

That actually made her laugh, but only briefly.

"Brandi, what's going through your mind right now? I'm worried about you," I asked after taking a sip of my beer.

"The email from LaTasha seriously spooked me."

"I can only imagine."

"What'd I do wrong, Robin? Why'd it have to happen to her?"

"Had you crewed with her before?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Then why are you spooked?"

My wife stared into the distance. "She was married."

It took me several moments to parse her words.

"And?" I asked after I remembered LaTasha's lighthearted banter in the hotel lounge about her plans that evening.

"I can only hope her … proclivities don't come out in the investigation. Her husband doesn't need to … Hell. For all I know, he was the man in⁠—"

"Come on, Brandi. Do you even think for one second that⁠—"

"Yes! I do! I'm wondering if the pilot who smashed a plane into mine last night was her husband and succeeded in a mission that took a dozen other people's lives!"

"Why on Earth could that ever be your fault?"

"Because I should have done something!"

"So … what. You're your airline's den mothern? You think if you'd known, you could have done anything ? You're foisting LaTasha's death on your shoulders?"

"Who else is to blame?"

"The asshole who crashed his plane into yours! If⁠—"

My words were aborted by a chime from Brandi's phone I had in my pocket.

"Here," I said, giving it to her.

"Screw it," she said, placing it face down on the table.

My phone sounded an identical alert a few seconds later.

I read its screen.

"Check your phone."

She shook her head.

"Read your damned phone , Brandi," I urged.

"Oh, god," she whispered after she read the notification.

BREAKING: Suicidal Pilot's Target Wasn't Aboard the Plane. News at Five.

"It wasn't LaTasha's fault," I said.

I finished my pint then went back inside to pay the tab.

"Come on, baby. Let's go back."

"You go ahead," Brandi responded. "The fresh air is doing me good, and Tater is enjoying exploring the new area. We'll be right behind you. I promise."

BRANDI
Monday, March 16, 2020 5:00pm

I sat next to Robin with a plate holding a reheated cheeseburger. My tummy had started growling as my appetite returned. I opted for potato chips instead of warmed-over fries. I even put a few under the bun for texture, causing my hubby to roll his eyes.

"Good evening, and a beautiful one it is. It's five o'clock, and thank you for joining us," the anchor said.

"The lead investigator from the national transportation safety board, the NTSB, at a press conference less than three hours ago said the spouse of the pilot who allegedly caused last night's tragic and deadly incident at Kansas City International has been identified. Here's a portion of the conference."

"… she was ticketed on the Midwest Express Flight 1021 to Columbia, Missouri, on which nine individuals perished, but she had cleared standby on an earlier departure, Flight 166."

Cameron gasped. "I can't imagine what she's thinking right now."

"Probably how she's lucky to be alive," Ryan said.

"Can you give us any names?" an off-camera voice asked.

"No. We made the determination via indirect but certain connections."

"Any information on the specific circumstances of the twelve passengers?"

"The deceased from the InterAir 737 were found outside the aircraft, forward of the right wing. Those aboard the Midwest Express flight were all still in their seats. We won't name individuals until the medical examiner makes positive identification of the deceased."

"Do you have information on injuries?"

"Nothing final, but I am told at least sixteen people were transported to various hospitals in the area. I don't have any word on their present conditions. Approximately one hundred ninety people were released from the scene after giving statements."

"Is there anything known about the airplane which caused this?"

"It was a 1968 two-seat Cessna 152 with the pilot being the only occupant. Its tail number," he said looking down at his notes, "N … November two three nine tango yankee. N239TY."

The video cut back to the studio.

"Our own investigative team was able to connect details associated with the airplane's registration to its home base in Mosby, Missouri, where we located an individual who observed the owner inspecting the airplane before its departure approximately forty-five minutes before the incident occurred. In the interest of protecting privacy, we will not be disclosing further details at this time.

"In sports, the Royals are wrapping up spring training next week⁠—"

"It doesn't really matter," I said after Ryan muted the television. "It's not like I think it's better that she was killed for nothing."

"Honey, it sounds like she died trying to protect people, two of which, unfortunately, lost their own lives. It also means everyone else who was injured or worse had nothing to do with her. She's a bit of a heroine in my book," Robin offered.

He put his hand inside my thigh and give it a soft caress. I took it in mine and squeezed it to let him know how much I appreciated his reassurances.

I looked at my screen when my phone beeped.

"Oh, great," I groaned, reading the appointment which had been sent.

"What's wrong?"

"I have to go to the DOT's regional headquarters tomorrow morning. The NTSB has asked … or rather told Mack McGarry and I to appear for interviews."

"What time?"

"They want me there by 8:30. It's going to be an early ass-kicking."