J. Pekka Mäkelä:
3 9 1
An excerpt from the chapter II: MCMXLV
Translated by the author. Copyright © 2004, 2005 J. Pekka Mäkelä. All rights reserved.
Introduction • Chapter II • Chapter V • Chapter XVII
I was shaken awake,
violently; feeling of falling. Miss Murray's shoulders were no longer relaxed;
she held the stick tautly, reaching levers and switches with her other hand. I
looked around: the sea was gone. The African coast was gone. The horizon was gone.
The Mosquito, our plane, was plunging into an abyss, a bottomless abyss.
Something floated towards me through the air. Headphones. I tried to reach
them, but couldn't. Then I got hold of them; clumsily, I put them on. I heard
static; I heard Miss Murray breathing, almost panting.What happened, I said.
No idea, she answered.
I have never, she started, then fell silent.
There's nothing I can do right now, she said.
The plane won't react to controls, she said.
The engines won't pull, she said.
We go where this thing takes us, she said.
Listen now, she said. The air is getting thinner. Better take the oxygen masks. Here.
She put on her mask and then helped me with mine. That didn't do much to my vertigo. We were still plunging into the abyss.
The abyss that went on and on.
On and on.
On and on. I don't know, for how long, since I didn't remember to look at the time. The climb and fall indicator rocked up and down, as did the artificial horizon. The altimeter was completely unreadable.
Various things flitted past us. Too fast to see what they were. I had a feeling there was something underneath us. Underneath our plane, I mean. I tried to reach the bubble window on the side pane, but everything was difficult. And there was the wing, obstructing any good view of the underside. The wing flapped violently up and down, just like the other one. The floor door under my feet had a small, round window. I tried to see something through it, but couldn't. The cabin air was full of floating dust and scrap that made my eyes hurt.
The abyss went on and on.
Miss Murray had her hand
on the stick, making small movements to and fro; apparently she was feeling if
the plane's control surfaces had any effect.
The engines don't pull,
she said.
I could feather them, she
said, but I don't now how long this thing lasts. We might need them before
being able to start them again, she explained.
And the abyss went on and on. I don't know for how long.
For a while I thought I was going to throw up in my oxygen mask. In my mind I saw drips of vomit floating all over the cockpit. Luckily, I'd had no time for breakfast that morning.
The abyss went on and on. Something flitted past us, and there was something underneath our plane; something I couldn't figure out.
I saw how Miss Murray tensed
up.
Something's happening, she
said.
Now I noticed it, too. Now
the abyss had an end, a red-and-tan speckled end. It drew closer. We plunged
towards it.
And then we were out from
the abyss, in the air, diving straight toward the ground: the ground rushed
toward us, a rugged hillside flashed past us. I was squeezed against my seat, I
saw stony ground, bushes, trees and rocks fly past.
Then we were flying level,
gaining some height. The pressure forces eased up.
Phew, she said, more to
herself than to me.
Her fingers started to
work on the radio controller. She glanced at the control panel gauges, then the
landscape, then the gauges, then the map strapped on her thigh. She called on
the radio, listened for a moment, changed the frequency, called again, listened,
changed the frequency. Nothing.
We gained more height.
A desert opened underneath
us. I tried to see the compass, but it was attached near her left knee, too far
away from my seat.She went on checking
the controls.
Nothing, she said.
Nothing on the radio.
No signal for the nav
system, she said.
I could see a glimpse of
the sea on the northern horizon. Miss Murray piloted us in that direction.
Do you happen to recognize
the landscape, she said.
No, I did not.
I've never seen this
place, she explained. I have no idea where we are. I can't reach anybody by the
radio.
We need to land, she said.
Here?
It's getting dark soon,
she said.
What? The sun rose just a
few hours ago.
That was before that
abyss, she said.
Now the sun will soon be
setting westwards.
Try to be useful, she
said. Search for a place to land.
I tried, peeking at the
sunset red landscape.
Rocky hills, bushes.
Barren, deserted. No roads. I asked myself how long a landing strip the
Mosquito would need. What would happen if it crashed upside down?
There was nothing smooth
in sight. The sun, hanging low, made all the landscape look very uneven.
We were still flying
seawards.
There's a road, she said.
Now I noticed it, too.
Thin, pale line between the bushes.
We did circles over the
road.
The road looked strange,
somehow. I don't know why.
Miss Murray set our course
to the east, following the road. At least I think it was east, with the sun
behind us. We were flying low, and the road looked like it was paved with big,
amorphous stones.
I heard a hollow noise.
There was a change in the plane's attitude; it slowed down a bit.
Miss Murray had lowered
the flaps and the landing gear.
No choice, she said.
There's a pretty long,
straight stretch, she said.
Let's hope it's long
enough, she said.
I crouched instinctively.
Should the plane crash upside down, there would only be the cockpit window
frames for protection. Thin pieces of aluminium.
Miss Murray seemed to know
what she was doing. I could see through the Perspex nose. I saw the paving get
closer. The road looked awfully narrow, which made me wonder if the landing
gear would fit. And then the paving seemed to rush onto us: I head a crash,
noises, rattle. Then the plane shook, the paving flitted past, the plane swung,
shook, rattled, clanked.
Our speed decreased.
After some time, the plane
came to a halt.
All of a sudden, it was
all-quiet. Miss Murray had switched the engines off.
We sat there for a long time, without a word.
She moved at last,
unhooked her seat belt and parachute straps. She removed her phones and
unbuckled the strap on her helmet. She took the helmet off; sticky red curls
stuck to the inside for a moment and then fell free. She shook her head,
brushed her sweaty hair. She noticed me.
She smiled at me. For the
first time.
We survived, she said.
