The plane dropped like it had hit an air pocket. Screams sounded around them as several overhead bins opened and bags fell out.
"Oh, my goodness!" she cried, as a flash of lightning outside lit up the entire cabin.
Noah grabbed her hand and clasped it in his as the plane continued to roll and buck. The motion reminded her of the time she rode a mechanical bull at a friend's birthday party. She held on to Noah and pinched her eyes shut, calming her breathing and trying to find her Zen place.
"Claire." She registered the concern in his voice, but continued trying to maintain her breathing. "Claire, are you with me? Do I need to do anything for you?"
She peeked at him. "I'm okay. I'm doing breathing exercises to manage my stress. Holding my hand helps."
He opened his mouth to say more, but was interrupted by the captain's latest announcement. Claire didn't hear everything he said, but the vibe in the cabin had changed. "I didn't catch everything. Did he say we're landing?" she asked Noah.
"Apparently, we've sustained some kind of damage and need to land. There's a small, retired Air Force base that can handle a plane this size and we're landing there."
While the flight remained bumpy, they experienced no more big, scary drops, and they landed safely. The crew handled the passengers with minimum fuss, keeping everyone calm and organized while they figured out how to get people off the plane without the use of a modern jetway. In the end, someone at the retired base found a rickety rolling stairway stable enough to handle deboarding the passengers.
"What are you doing?" Noah asked as Claire dug through her carry-on bag.
"I brought an umbrella!" She nodded her head toward the window where sheets of rain covered it, making visibility nil.
"Well, that's fortuitous."
Noah stood in the makeshift lobby of the ex-government facility watching the airline employees and local officials huddled down the hall away from the passengers. Despite Claire's best efforts with the umbrella earlier, they'd both gotten soaked. The facility employees had rounded up paper towels and blankets to make everyone more comfortable. Claire had surprised him by pulling out a microfiber towel from her backpack, which they'd used to dry their electronics, then their hair. Well, mostly hers. His was short enough to dry in minutes. Hers, on the other hand—it was the never-ending story of curls.
She stood nearby, wringing out the ends of her locks with the towel, her shoulders hunched against the chill. Something about the sight tugged at him. Perhaps it was the way her hair clung to her neck, or that she kept fussing with it like getting it dry would chase away the cold.
"Here," he said, stepping closer. "Let me help."
"Thanks," she said, handing him the towel. "Where are we, anyway?"
He gently wrapped the towel around her long, unruly strands, squeezing out the water with slow, careful pressure until it no longer dripped all over the floor.
"That's probably as good as it's going to get," he murmured. Your towel's soaked." He handed it back to her. "And we're in Scotland."
"Thanks. Scotland? Nice."
Claire wrung it out at the nearby drinking fountain while he checked his phone. Only two bars.
"Are you okay to watch our things while I make some phone calls?" he asked when she came back.
"Sure. Doesn't look like we're going anywhere soon."
He nodded, then wandered around searching for a spot with a better signal. He found it near the southwest window and dialed his dad's number. No one better than a retired military mechanic to talk to about a downed plane. It didn't take long for his father to answer.
"Oliver here."
"Hey, Pops."
"Noah! What's wrong?" Noah smiled. His dad always could hear trouble across the line. He supposed calling him outside their weekly catch up call was a major clue.
Noah explained their situation and where they were. As he spoke, he watched three members of the huddled group peel off and head toward the plane. When they opened the luggage compartments, he knew they were in trouble. "Looks like they're unloading our luggage."
His dad whistled. "Sounds bad."
"Yeah."
They sat in silence while each thought about the predicament he was in. Noah stared absently at the puddle forming at his feet. He wasn't thrown by much, but it was nice to know he could call his dad when things seemed beyond his control. Even if neither of them said much, just knowing he was there was comforting.
"I tell ya what," his dad said. "I've got a buddy who still lives in the area. Let me reach out to him and see what we can do for you."
