Chapter 4 - The Thunderstorm Wall
At twelve thousand feet, Atlantic 408 entered the outer squall lines of the oceanic hurricane.
BANG!
A massive fist of turbulence slammed into the fuselage, dropping the aircraft three hundred feet in less than a second.
The overhead emergency oxygen masks deployed throughout the passenger cabin with a collective mechanical snap. In the cockpit, the rain pounded against the thick windshield with the sound of machine-gun fire, and jagged bolts of blue-white lightning illuminated the towering anvil clouds surrounding them.
"Windshear warning!" the automated terrain awareness computer blared through the cockpit speakers:
[WINDSHEAR! WINDSHEAR! PULL UP!]
"The crosswind is gusting to forty-eight knots from the northwest!" Captain Hayes shouted over the roar of the storm, gripping his fractured shoulder as another jolt shook the floorboards. "If we hit the windshear on final approach with no starboard hydraulics, the right wing will stall and flip us onto the runway!"
Laura didn't flinch. Her heart rate remained a cool, steady fifty-eight beats per minute.
She had flown through sandstorms over Iraq and monsoon turbulence over the South China Sea. Fear was simply data that needed to be processed and discarded.
"First Officer Cross," Laura commanded, her voice ringing clear over the screaming wind. "Arm the manual landing gear gravity-drop lever. When I call the mark, you pull the mechanical cable to let the gear free-fall and lock into place."
"Understood, Commander!" Cross answered, his hands steadying on the center console.
"Captain Hayes," Laura continued, "monitor our descent rate on the backup pressure altimeter. Call out every fifty-foot increment once we break through the cloud base."
Through the storm, the voice of Lajes Tower crackled with urgent static:
"Atlantic 408, Lajes Tower! Emergency crash-fire-rescue equipment is deployed along both sides of Runway 15. Surface wind is three-one-zero at thirty-five knots, gusts to fifty. Sea-level pressure nine-eight-four millibars. Be advised, Runway 15 is wet with standing water. You are cleared for emergency straight-in approach."
Laura keyed the transmitter. "Lajes Tower, 408 is on final approach. Deploy the foam carpets at the touchdown zone. We will have minimal reverse thrust and no differential nose-wheel steering upon rollout."
May you like
Laura pulled the power lever back, aligning the heavy aircraft with the faint, pulsing strobe lights piercing the driving rain below.
"Here we go, gentlemen," Laura whispered. "Hold on to something solid."
