Turbulence

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

My brother writes comic books. He’s famous for it. Perhaps you have heard of them. Electricity?

Yeah, I thought so. You are now looking at me funny, wondering what everyone else wonders. So I will tell it straight out. Yes, he did pattern her after me—physically anyway. In reality he patterned her after my father and my mother, using me as the image for his electric-manipulation superhero. I get it all the time.

People ask me, “Are you Saul Christian Eber’s sister?”

I have to say ‘yes, I was’ every time. It is hard not to. Saul draws very well and his super heroine looks a lot like me. He gave her my haircut even. I mean, how many superhero women walk around with a chin length bob? My black hair also gives it away.

My brother started writing comic books in high school with a bunch of his friends for the fun of it. They visited comic book conventions and later they got more serious about starting their own comic book when they saw how well received their hero was to their classmates. At first they just printed it off themselves and sold them just above cost. But later they got a deal with a small publishing house to print and sell in stores. It is history from there on. Now a freshman in college, the comic Electricity pays for his tuition and his trumped up housing costs, let alone his extra expensive textbooks.

But really, all this free publicity is unnecessary. My parents consider it a nuisance, especially since they work for the government.

My dad’s an electrical engineer. He works secret projects for the military sometimes. My mother is a mathematician. Chinese-American, she works for the FBI. Cryptography, I think. They don’t really tell me the details of their work, actually. I’m just guessing. The only thing I do know is that my brother made Electricity like them in intelligence and ability.

You’ve seen how she can turn on electrical objects just by rubbing her hand near them. That’s my mother. Not so extreme, my mother does have a natural electrical charge in her body. She can’t wear watches. They speed up. She doesn’t wear jewelry. Her skin eats the gold and the other metals. Some say her skin is acidic and that is why she has these problems, but I have seen her just run her hand over a lamp you normally have to press and hold the button on to start and it lights right up without all that.  Her fingertips sometimes spark. Static electricity is her enemy. She hates wearing skirts and loves drier sheets. She keeps a box in her purse all the time so she can look presentable in meetings.

My father, he is the brains of the comic hero. He seems to understand computers and all things electrical. You should see him wire up the house at Christmas. He has one master panel he made himself to control when certain lights flash and twinkle, as well as when they turn off to conserve power. Also jokingly, my father often says he can just touch a computer and he already knows what is in it. Programming is a snap to him. He says he can read all those ones and zeroes as if it were English. I think he’s a tad loopy.

So, what about me? What is so interesting about Hanna Evelyne Eber that made my brother have to use me for the model of his hero?

I don’t know.

I guess he just didn’t want to leave me out.

 

Hanna looked over her essay for her English class and shrugged. It wasn’t complete. It was due Monday.

Glancing out the window of the airplane, she leaned on the armrest and stared at the cold frost that formed on the edges and also at the growing blackness as the sunlight was vanishing from the horizon. It was another trip to Washington DC.

She sighed. It would be another day in a hotel while her parents were off on assignments. They never told her what they were working on exactly, but they always dragged her along. It annoyed her somewhat, feeling as if her parents didn’t trust her to stay at home for even a brief weekend. After all, she was sixteen. It wasn’t like she was a kid anymore. She had her driver’s license.

Glancing over at her dad, she thought maybe he’d let her walk over to the Smithsonian while they were on business. It wasn’t far from where they usually stayed. That, and she felt she was done with her homework. There wasn’t more to write anyway.

Hanna put her penned essay into her school folder and snapped the binder shut.

Her father turned his head and smiled at her. “We’re almost there.”

The light above their seats flickered.

Hanna looked up and then smirked at her mother.

“I didn’t do it,” her mother said, lifting her hands.

The lights flickered again. The airplane rocked, bumping from turbulence.

“Buckle your seat belt,” her father said, nodding at the small light above shaped like a seat belt that just flickered on.

Hanna moaned, but did as he said. The seatbelt was so constricting.

The airplane shook again, dropping a bit more. Hanna’s stomach lurched as she felt free-fall for a brief moment. Hanna clenched the arms to her seat. Looking up, she saw the stewardess brace herself against a seat back, calling for people to buckle up still.

The plane shook. It took another drop before leveling off again. As usual, the weatherman got it wrong. He had not predicted it to be so rough for traveling that morning. They didn’t like to take planes through rainstorms usually. They would have taken a shorter flight then rented a to avoid the turbulence.

Her father glanced over at her mother, swallowing with a growing panic.

The air masks dropped.

The lights went out.

“What’s happening?” Hanna’s voice shook as she heard someone in the back scream.

The airplane dropped again. This time it did not level off.

Everyone scrambled for their facemasks, though some were just screaming. Her father had his on and pulled Hanna’s over to her face. She reached up, taking the plastic cup and as he slipped the elastic over her head. However, the plane plummeted downward with nothing working to hold them up. It was over. As Hanna clenched her teeth, only one thought passed through her mind—Monday was nothing to worry about anymore.

Closing her eyes, Hanna wished as the humming of the plane falling through the atmosphere grew louder and louder that she could keep it aloft, just enough for them to survive. Hanna did not believe in magic. She was of a practical mind and loved to read books about science, with real-life heroes. She thought her brother’s comic books were silly pieces of escapism. Yet, as if her wish had been granted, the airplane abruptly leveled off, and the lights flickered on again.

She panted, her heart pounding in her chest. And suddenly she felt so tired, tired enough to sleep the rest of the way.

Looking over to her father, she smiled. “We’re going to make it.”

His eyes smiled back, blinking at her. Her mother’s eyes were still closed, bracing for impact. When she opened them and glanced over at Hanna, her eyes widened with an overwhelming smile of love.  

The plane bottomed out, dropping again.

 

The fire blazed up in the dark sky, filling it with blacking smoke that would mingle with the smog. Luckily the airplane did not hit any buildings. It had even made it to the airfield, scraping a deep gash in the earth which buried part of the aircraft in a monumental wreck.

Emergency vehicles reached the scene, each rescue worker scrambling out with the fire trucks to put out the blaze. Not all the plane was on fire. One end merely crumpled where it hit the earth, and there the firemen tore apart the doors and exit windows to see if anyone survived the crash at all. Climbing in, they peered about the cabin with their large flashlights casting beams through the smoke. Listening, they heard coughing and moans.

“There are survivors!” a fireman shouted out the door. “Get stretchers here quick!”

Their boots crunched through the aisle, flashing their lights at the passengers. Many were mangled, held up only by the tubes to the air masks. One stewardess groaned with her arm flopped over the back of one chair and her head thrown back. Three rows down, they found a man pushing on the seat in front of him. He called out, saying he was stuck, hacking on the fumes. A baby was crying further inside.

Sirens echoed outside. The spray of water to put the fire out dribbled through cracks and broken windows, dousing the charred seat backs and passengers. In the back they heard the drip drip drip of water seeping through the ceiling. Another person cried out. “Help me.”

One of the fire fighters lifted his flashlight, looking at the source of the voice. It was a man with third degree burns all over his skin, and what looked like a nasty break on his collarbone.

A cough came from the seat behind him. The fireman moved his light as his partner tore apart the seat pinning the man with burns, shining it on a teenaged girl covered in blood. Half of her face was blackened, raw red, charring also a part of her scalp. Her arms still had flames burning into them.

“Daddy?”

The fireman reached over the two seats to where she was pinned against the wall. Pieces of glass stuck into her shoulder, broken out of the window. He smothered the flames on her arm.

“Stay still, we’ll get you out.” He pulled back and looked at the two adults sitting beside her. Right next to her, sandwiched between his chair and the one before him was a middle-aged man. His eyes stared blankly upward. His skin was also burned. The Chinese woman in the aisle seat was also dead, her neck bent out of shape.

The girl coughed again, moaning. “What happened? Daddy?”

The fire fighter winced, knowing this child would not get an answer. He drew in a breath and said, “Lie still. You have been in a plane crash.”

She moaned, closing her eyes. “I hurt.”

“We’ll get you out.” The fireman turned working at once to separate the seats on the row in front of her. The man with the burns had just been carried out of the wreck.

Groaning, she shifted in her seat. She was also pinned. Perhaps all her bones were broken. Looking at her bloody and burnt body, the fireman did not believe that she would last the night.

More rescue operators climbed in the crashed airplane, tearing off the seats and heaving over a stretcher.

 

Out of the eighty or so on the airplane, only seven were still alive. Out of the seven that survived, only one came out without wounds, and that was a very well bundled up baby. Her mother did not live.

Hanna lay on a stretcher, her broken left arm strapped down and her skin feeling like it was still burning. The rest of her body ached in a way that was too painful for her mind to comprehend. But the blood on her shirt was not hers. She stared up at the dark sky thinking of nothing as her head throbbed.

Stars above twinkled. There were no clouds though the smoke blocked a portion of the sky.

What caused the turbulence? Hanna wondered, blinking. Why did they crash?

The sounds around her muted in her ears. Many rushed, pulling and pushing the stretcher she was on into a brightly lit back of an open ambulance. She could feel them drop then lift her up into the vehicle. Hanna stared at the white ceiling of the van, joined by another stretcher. She turned her head to look at her neighbor. His face was red and black with white splotchy marks of raw flesh. He smelled awful, but then so did she. The smell of burned hair was everywhere, and it grew more pungent in the small space. The vehicle started with a painful jolt. Over her head she heard the sirens go again, wailing like the pain in her heart. It was telling her something she did not want to hear.

“Daddy?” Hanna choked, feeling her stinging throat fill with saliva.

“Keep still,” a manly voice said to her left.

Hanna did not look at him. She closed her eyes. “Mom?”

The siren continued its painful call to the world to get out of its way, digging deeper into Hanna’s consciousness. She tried not to hear it.

 

The siren faltered at one intersection. She heard a curse come from the driver’s seat. Hanna opened her eyes and looked up at the suddenly dark ceiling. The vehicle was slowing, rolling to the side of the road.

“What’s going on?” The EMT called forward. He got up.

“The engine just stalled,” the driver called back.

He tried to start it again, turning the key and pushing the gas.

“We have people dying back here. The engine can’t stall!” The EMT hopped to the passenger side.

“Well, it stalled! I think the battery just died.” The driver swore again, kicking the floor. “We need to get it jump started.”

Huffing, the EMT opened the passenger door. He ran out and popped the hood to the ambulance. The driver climbed out also, heading to the back for the jumper cables. Hanna could hear them bickering as the traffic sped by. The whish of the cars and the honking of impatient horns blared as the men attempted to wave down a car to start the emergency vehicle up again. Lying there, Hanna felt an itch go down her back. She tried to shift somewhat to relieve the pain. Scooting once, she took a breath, feeling a strange yet comforting sensation. Her aches felt less and her ears stopped buzzing. Looking once more at the man lying next to her, she heard him panting from pain, sweating large drops through his charred hair. Closing her eyes, Hanna sighed. She wondered how bad she looked. If it was anything like him, she didn’t want to see it.

The EMTs eventually got someone to stop and jump-start the engine. Soon they were off again, speeding into the city up to the hospital. But as if with very bad luck, the engine died again. Hanna saw the lights flicker overhead, and then shut off. A crackle of electricity snapped with a flash to her stretcher.

The driver swore again. “What is wrong with this thing?”

Luckily they were already in the parking lot.

Wasting no time, the EMT popped open the back doors and called for assistance to heave out the two stretchers so they could take them to the emergency room. Three large men scrambled out to help them. Hanna saw the burn victim’s stretcher go first, zipping into the swinging doors. Her stretcher followed. She never saw him again after that.

They took her to get x-rayed right away.

The x-ray technician was very thorough. She had Hanna lie still. Her arm was obviously broken, twisted in a funny angle. There was blood on her arm where her bone stuck out like an odd joint, but there was no break in the skin as far as the technician could see. Moving the machine arm, she proceeded with the x-ray. And just as hastily, she had Hanna moved to the next room so she could take care of the next patient.

Hanna stared up at the large lights this time. She didn’t want to think about the bones they would have to set, or how many might be broken. Her arm throbbed bad enough that she knew it was broken in more than one place.

Hanna tried to move her fingers. They hurt. She couldn’t.

She tried to move her arm. It twisted, a twinge of shooting pain jolting her, so she stopped, panting. 

The lights flickered over her head.

Looking up at them, Hanna felt her heart pound in her chest. It was happening again.

A rivulet of electricity flickered through the air then leapt to the gurney she was lying on. She jumped upright, clutching her arm. Falling back down, Hanna stared up at the strobing lights above, wondering if somehow the hospital was possessed with a poltergeist. Two other electrical streams crackled across the room with a jolt, shooting straight from the light above to her broken arm.

“OW!” Hanna sat up on the gurney, grabbing her arm.

The light bulb overhead popped. Then three others went out in succession, leaving her in the dark. No more electrical show.

Sitting in darkness, Hanna blinked, panting hard. What was happening?

“Oh, what are you doing here in the dark?” One of the doctors stood in the doorway, reaching for the light switch. The light from the hall flooded in, forming a silhouette around him.

Hanna peered at his shadow, still clenching her arm. What could she say? Should she tell them they had a poltergeist?

He flipped the switch again. Nothing.

“The bulb blew,” Hanna said, mustering a voice.

She heard him give a tired sounding sigh. His silhouette turned. He called out into the hall. “Take this girl to the next open room.”

Promptly, a large man hurried inside to her gurney then urged Hanna to lie back down. She did, watching the ceiling again as he pushed the gurney through the doorway into the hall. Unfortunately, there were no more free rooms. It was one of those bad nights at the ER. So bad that they eventually took her to a curtained space and set her on an open bed. Hanna could hear others around her moaning and weeping from pain.

“Now then,” the doctor said as he joined them two seconds after. “Let me look at that arm of yours.”

Hanna held it out.

“The broken one,” the doctor said, smirking somewhat.

Blinking, Hanna glanced at her left arm. Her fingers moved. It was no longer bent. In fact, it no longer hurt. Her right arm was perfectly fine.

“Nurse!” the doctor called out as he looked at Hanna’s arm with an annoyed frown. He tromped back out of the curtained divides then marched towards the x-ray room in a brisk stride. “Nurse, let me see her chart.”

A woman walked over and handed a folder over to him. He lifted one of the x-rays to the light, then the other. The doctor blinked and then peered down at Hanna. Turning back around, he said, “These are not hers. She doesn’t have a broken arm.”

The lights flickered above again.

Hanna cringed, bracing herself now. Already she could feel the static in the air, all pulling towards her.

“What is going on?” The doctors and nurses peered up at the ceiling lights. Even the machines around her were halting, the heartbeats pausing as if every one had the same glitch.

Murmurs echoed from the patients. Hanna could feel the static grow closer to her, the electrical rivulets tingling her skin like medicated shampoo. She sat still and closed her eyes. Taking a breath, she shook her head then wished the lights and power would just stop acting up. Clenching her fists, she willed it.

And strangely, the lights above and the machines obeyed. The machines beeped in rhythm again, as the noise in the room went back to normal.

Turning towards her once more with a slow shake of his head, the doctor examined her chart. He turned to the nurse and spoke frankly, “Find this girl’s chart. And find the person these belong to. This woman is in critical condition.”

He then turned to speak to another orderly. “Take her to the burn ward.”

The man obeyed immediately.

Told to lie down once more, Hanna sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

 

It was strange, staring at the repeating florescent lights above, the air vents and the faces with an up-the-nose view. Hanna felt somewhat calm. Shock still wrapped her in a surreal cocoon. Her mind was not on the crash but on the bizarre events after it: the flickering lights, the stalling ambulance, the blown light bulbs, the static electricity—and mostly the strange tingling feeling that filled her body and took away all her pain. When they hefted her to another bed where the attending doctor came over to check on her burns, she was thinking of nothing but the mystery before her.

“Hello there. Hold on while I look for your chart,” this doctor said, smiling genially at Hanna.

She drew in a breath and waited.

The doctor loomed over her bed, talked with the orderly that took her there, and then he walked down the hall to look for a nurse. He did not come back for at least five minutes, during which the lights had started flickering again even as Hanna grew nervous. The man walked over to her, holding a clean chart in his hands.

“Ok, I need you to answer some questions. I’m afraid your chart was lost.”

Hanna sat up.

“Now, what is your name?” he asked.

“Hanna Evelyne Eber,” she replied, taking a breath.

The man nodded, jotting it down. “Ok, who brought you here? Are your parents in the waiting room?”

Hanna shook her head. In her mind’s eye she saw her parents in the dark of the burning wreckage. The voice of the fireman came back to her. ‘Lie still. You have been in a plane crash.’

She swallowed. “I don’t know where they are.”

The doctor looked up. “Were you in the same accident?”

Hanna nodded as her face flushed. Panic gripped her. “Yes. They were on the plane with me.”

He stared, his eyes lifting to her face. “On a plane?”

Hanna started to cry, nodding. She covered her face with her hands, black ash rubbing into her palms. “They were sitting next to me.” Her sobs choked her throat. “Where are they?”

The doctor stiffened. He swallowed then gestured for a nurse. “Where is that other chart again?”

The nurse pointed. “Dr. Grishom has it. They still haven’t found that patient.”

“Bring it here,” this doctor ordered. “And bring Dr. Grishom also.”

Looking up from her blackened, wet hands, Hanna shook. “What’s going on? Where are my parents?”

Turning back with a curious glance at Hanna, the doctor said, “Were you on flight seventy-three?”

Hanna nodded, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

He drew in a breath. The doctor sat down on a near stool, staring at her. “You have no broken bones.”

She had no response to that. Hanna knew it. Nothing hurt anymore. Not even her skin.

“You look like you have been burned once, but it is long scabbed over,” he said, reaching out gently towards her arm which was covered in the blackened scabs.

“What is it?” Dr. Grishom marched over, holding up the chart. He looked at Hanna. “That’s not the girl. She doesn’t match the chart.”

“I think we should take her to x-ray again.” The doctor stood up. He looked once at Hanna and then to the orderly.

“That is not necessary,” Dr. Grishom replied, his voice taking on annouance as he glanced at Hanna once more.

She rubbed her forehead, clenching where her hair on one side was now burned stubble. The scabby crust crumbled under her fingers, breaking off in her hands. Hanna wiped it, expecting it to bleed again, but nothing wet came. In fact, it felt like scratching off an annoying itch. She heard the doctor gasp.

She looked up.

Dr. Grishom stared at her. The other one had his mouth open. He crouched down and reached for her face where her skin pulled from dried blood. Wiping it gently with his fingers, she felt the scab break then fall off as if it were merely crumbs. He rubbed again on her shoulder, feeling her shirt break apart with the burned skin. He dusted it off then stood up.

“There’s no scar.”

Hanna blinked, turned her head, and looked over at it. Black and ashy, it looked more like she had been playing in soot than like she had been burned, though her shirt was ruined.

“Take her to x–ray at once,” Dr. Grishom murmured, his throat dry. He turned, looking at the orderly. “Quickly.”

The man hefted Hanna back onto the gurney. They pushed her as if in a race now, popping through sets of doors on the way. Jogging after them, the doctors joined them back in the x-ray room. The technician blinked at her and then at the two doctors.

“I already did her. She has a broken ankle, several broken ribs and a compound fracture in her left arm.” But after she said that, she stared at Hanna whose arm was perfectly straight. She looked pale. “Impossible.”

They put Hanna on the table a bit too hastily for her comfort, jostled into place. Making her lie still once again, the technician set up for each x-ray. All those eyes staring at her were more than she wanted to bear, making her feel like a bug. But she had to do it.

 

Afterward, Hanna sat in ICU enduring a nurse’s sponge bath. Gently wiping off all the ash and charred clothing, the nurse remained silent the entire time, her lips pressed together in a line. After they cleaned off all her scabs and changed her clothes to a sterile hospital robe, Hanna rubbed her fingers through the awkward punk-like stubble on her scalp. Some of the original length was still there. It was the only proof she had been in the plane crash. No scars. No broken bones. Nothing else showed what had happened to her.

As soon as the nurse was finished, she left Hanna alone, carting away all the pieces of trash and burnt skin. Hanna rolled over on her side, staring into space, the events of the plane crash going over and over in her mind.

What had happened?

“You have a visitor,” a nurse said, opening her door. They had given her private room. It was strange to her since all the other crash victims were still being cared for in a public area, including the baby. She didn’t know who requested it, since she sure hadn’t.

Hanna looked up, hoping it was Saul—though it was impossible he would be able to get there so soon from school. He went to a California university.

“Hello, Miss Eber,” a suited man said, entering her room with another stranger. Dr. Grishom walked in also, still watching her with trepidation. His eyes said that he was overwhelmed and rather subdued by the recent events he had just witnessed.

She blinked at him and then looked at the two strangers again.

“I am Agent Johnson of Federal Bureau of Investigation. We met once. I worked with your mother.”

Hanna nodded slowly. He was familiar, though she had never spoken with him before. She shifted in her bed to get in a more comfortable position.

“This is Agent Greenwald, my partner. We have a few questions for you.” Agent Johnson pulled out a pen and a note pad. However, Hanna knew they were probably recording their conversation with a hidden device. They did  that sort of thing.

Seeing that she was waiting for them to ask, Agent Johnson smiled and put his pen to his pad. “Did anything suspicious happen on the airplane before it went down?”

Hanna blinked at him. “Uh, yes, actually. But—first, what happened to my parents? The doctors won’t tell me.”

Agent Johnson’s face went solemn. “I am sorry, but both your parents were killed in the crash. In fact, it is rather surprising that you survived. The rescue workers on the crash site said that all of your bones and internal organs should have been crushed.”

But Hanna did not hear the last part. Only the first part remained in her head. Her parents were dead.

She stared blankly.

“Miss Eber?” His voice came as a distant echo.

Hanna barely looked up. Where was she? Wasn’t she just sitting next to her father on the plane? Where was her mother?

They were dead.

Tears flooded down her cheeks. Hanna covered her face with her hands. “No.”

Agent Johnson sighed, glancing at his partner. He rose and put away his pen. Hanna bawled, sobbing uncontrollably onto her knees, her arms wrapped around them.

They stood up and turned to Dr. Grishom. “Her brother should be notified. We can give you the number to call.”

Agent Johnson stepped from the room as his partner spoke with a nurse. “This room should remain locked and guarded. No visitors, especially the media. As of today, she does not exist. Got it?”

Dr. Grishom nodded, glancing over at the healed burns on Hanna’s scalp.

“And if her brother wants to visit?” the doctor asked, staring at the closed door.

Agent Johnson sighed. “He needs to be spoken to first. Let us know when he arrives. We’ll talk with him. We can’t have unwanted publicity right now.”

Dr. Grishom nodded. “I understand.”

They left without any more ado, not even to speak with the other survivors of the crash.

Mourning

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

Saul arrived in DC, rushing to the hospital as soon as he found out flight seventy-three had gone down. It was on national news. So far no one knew the cause of the crash. Two FBI agents met him in the lobby, informing him that his sister had survived, but his parents were dead. His reaction to the news was predictable.

He dropped to the nearest chair. “Dead? Them? No. No.”

Agent Johnson sighed, trying to be sympathetic, but kept his hands wisely to himself. “Only seven people survived the crash. It is surprising that any survived at all. You sister is lucky.”

Saul stood up immediately, ignoring the tears that burned his eyes, and squared his shoulders. “Where is she?”

They held him back. “She is recovering. You cannot see her yet.”

“Hanna will want to see me!” Saul’s face burned hot.  

The overhead lights flickered.

The FBI agents glanced up at them and then at Saul who still fumed.

“Actually, we have some questions for you first. If you would come this way, please.” Agent Greenwald gestured down the hall.

Saul narrowed his eyes at him. Hesitating, he followed the two agents he had met on only two occasions before. Still, he knew them. They took Saul into an empty office for a more private discussion.

 

Hanna sighed, leaning on her knees. Though she had a window to look out and a TV for when she got bored, Hanna was going out of her skin with cabin fever. She looked up with hope when her door at last did open, hoping it was someone to talk to.

“Saul!” Her face lit up in a smile. She sat up, ready to jump out of bed.

Her brother rushed to meet her, wrapping his arms protectively around his kid sister with a hug. “Oh, thank heaven.”

She her body shook as she sobbed into his shoulder. He stroked her scalp, now shaved for a more balanced look. Where her hair had been burned off to the skin, he could already feel stubble growing back.

“Mom and Dad,” she bawled, clinging to him. “They didn’t—”

Tears crested in his eyes. He pulled her tighter. “I know.”

Hanna cried several minutes in her brother’s arms before she was able to look him in the face. His eyes were also red, his cheeks damp. “What do we do now?”

Saul held her close, brushing a finger where Hanna’s eyebrows used to be. “I don’t know. Nai Nai Cheung is in a rest home. We can’t exactly have you move in with an Alzheimer’s patient. You would be taking care of her instead of the other way around, and I don’t have enough money for you to join me off at college.”

Agent Greenwald stepped forward. “Actually, we plan to take Hanna to a foster home.”

Her brother turned and made a face. “A foster home? Where?”

The FBI agent sighed. “We were hoping to find a family in your home town, but so far we can’t manage that. We did, however, find one in a town near where you are attending school.”

Hanna sighed. She leaned back on her knees. That meant she could stay near her brother, but it also meant she had to say good-bye to all her friends. It seemed to be a cruel joke.

“And what about our house?” Saul asked the FBI agents. “Our parents owned that house. Would I inherit it with Hanna? Or are we homeless now?”

The agents shrugged. Agent Johnson stepped forward.

“I think, perhaps, you will have to discuss this with your parents’ lawyer. I’m sure they drew up a will. They were always conscientious. Now, if would please, we have some questions to ask your sister, and we would like you to meet with Dr. Grishom to discuss her care for after she is to be released.”

Saul narrowed his eyes at the men, but nodded. He walked to the door yet called back to his sister before stepping out. “Hanna, I’ll take care of everything. Ok?”

She looked up from her knees and nodded.

With her brother gone, the FBI agents took more comfortable seats around her bed. Agent Johnson pulled out his notepad again, and Agent Greenwald rested back in his seat to listen… though more likely to operate their listening device

“Ok. Now, Miss Eber, we asked you last night if anything strange happened on the airplane before or during the time it went down, and you had said ‘yes’. We need you to elaborate.”

Hanna closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about it. Like a nightmare, the events of the crash haunted her in too many ways. The smells were still in her nose, and the sounds and feel of the plane dropping haunted her every time she closed her eyes.

“What happened, Hanna?” Agent Greenwald asked.

Taking a breath and wetting the inside of her mouth with her tongue, Hanna opened her eyes and sat up. “We thought we were going through turbulence.” Looking to the one agent, she sighed. “The plane was shaking. The lights started to go on and off. It was nothing at first.”

Agent Johnson jotted it down, nodding. “And then what happened?”

Hanna closed her eyes, thinking. “The seat belt light went on. The lights above went out. The next thing we knew, the plane was dropping.”

The man nodded, scratching out his notes. “You didn’t smell anything strange, like smoke or anything?”

She shook her head. “No. It was like the plane had just lost power.”

Both agents looked up at her, one blinking with a stare.

“Lost power?”

Hanna winced. “Yeah. Like the engines were struggling to work then just quit.”

Just quit… like the ambulance that also quit working; like the light that blew in the doctor’s examination office near the x-ray room. Hanna shook, dread sinking deep into her.

“Then what happened?” the agent asked.

Hanna blinked. She remembered. Somehow, like a wish granted, the plane started to fly again for a moment, perhaps saving her life. The fall afterwards was not as bad as it would have been. Surely they all would have died if the engines had not started again.

“We crashed,” Hanna said.

Agent Johnson closed his notebook. He looked over at Agent Greenwald. They both rose out of their seats.

“Thank you.”

Hanna watched them as they walked to the door. They did not ask one word about her miraculous survival. Not one. Somehow, that did not comfort her.

 

Saul returned after a long talk with Dr. Grishom. Her brother’s face seemed to have frozen into a deep and mournful frown. He was trying to keep a less negative façade, but only managed to look sober, gazing at his sister while measuring his words before speaking. And he didn’t say much when he did.

“Hanna, I think when we get home we should see Dr. Otis. Dr. Grishom recommends you get a check-up as soon as we get you home.”

“Will we have a home to go to?” Hanna asked, imagining all sorts of horrific possibilities that their home would probably have to be sold or something.

Her brother gave her a weak smile. “I made some calls. You know Dad’s old buddy Bill Black? He’s the one who drew up their will. It turns out he’s an attorney, which I didn’t know until now. Mr. Black is going to meet us at the airport.”

Hanna closed her eyes. “Are we flying home?”

Saul grimaced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really think. You’re right. We should rent a car and drive home.”

She shook her head, still feeling odd without her hair. “No. That’s ok. I’m just paranoid.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “No, Hanna. It is not paranoid to dislike flying after you have been in a plane crash. I understand. I’ll cancel our flight, and we can drive back.”

“But you’ll miss school,” Hanna murmured, staring at her knees again.

Sighing, Saul scooted closer to her bed. “It’s ok. There is always next semester. One term off won’t kill me.”

She did not answer that. Instead Hanna leaned against his shoulder, wishing she could move back time.

 

The drive home ended up being a trip via Greyhound. They did not rent a car. Saul was too young to rent one. Forking over a few hundred dollars for the bus trip instead, both brother and sister eventually hopped into the bus station in their hometown feeling sore and groggy. Both Mr. Black and Dr. Otis met them there.

“How are you feeling?” Dr. Otis asked Hanna as soon as he reached her. He glanced at the hat she was wearing to cover her practically bald head. Her eyebrows were slowly growing back.

Hanna shrugged. “I’ve been better.”

“Let’s go to your home now. We can discuss things after you two have had a bit of a rest,” Mr. Black said, reaching for Saul’s carry-on bag.

They took the two to Dr. Otis’s car. From there they rode back home. Mr. Black followed them.

Hanna stared out the window, gazing at her neighbor’s houses as they passed them. Her friends were there, probably barely informed about the plane crash. Soon she would have to say good-bye to them also. Touching the window glass, she sighed.

“Hanna?” Dr. Otis glanced back briefly, steering the car towards their street. “How are you feeling?”

She looked over at him. “Depressed.”

He sighed, looking back to the road.

Steering into the driveway behind where their parents’ car sat, Mr. Otis put on the parking brake. He turned around in his seat. “Now Hanna, I told a few other people what happened. Some of your teachers will be by to talk to you. You don’t have to see them if you don’t want to, but they would like to see you anyway if you would be willing to listen. You don’t have to pretend to be happy, but please be there.”

Hanna could not smile. There was nothing to say.

Dr. Otis opened the car door, letting Saul out.

Saul patted Hanna’s hand and scooted to the door, climbing outside as he said, “I’ll field all the casseroles and when the guys from church come by.” He waited for her.

It was true; Hanna did not want to talk to anyone. The doctor was right. Still, as she drew in a breath and looked around, knowing Mr. Black had already gone to the airport that morning to pick up her parent’s bodies for the funeral, she knew life would never be the same, and she hated it.

They walked to the door as Mr. Black drove up and parked on the street. He jogged up after them as soon as he got out of his car.

Walking through the front door, Hanna gazed into the room. Everything was the same, just as they had left it. She knew in a few weeks things would change. Perhaps they would sell the house. Hanna crossed the threshold straight into the living room then dropped to the nearest couch. Saul stopped next to her, sitting at her left. Both Dr. Otis and Mr. Black took chairs opposite them.

“I wish we could delay this, but I think for you two to move on we had better not,” Mr. Black opened the briefcase he had been carrying and set the papers on the coffee table between them.

Dr. Otis scooted aside the copy of Popular Mechanics, placing it under the other large books and magazines so the briefcase would rest flat.

“Your parents did not select a guardian for you,” Mr. Black said with a sigh. “They only stipulated what would happen to certain possessions. There are a few filing cabinets that belong to the U.S. government in your father’s study, and the computer also. Your parents did will you two the house, but recommend that you sell it and divide the money evenly. I suppose they did not expect anything like this to happen with you still in the home.”

Hanna stared at her knees. That was very much like her parents. Her father often acted like he would live forever. He loved adventure: hiking, playing with high powered electrical devices, and sky diving, to name a few. Nothing seemed to scare him. And her mother had always been along to enjoy the ride.  Perhaps they expected to live to a ripe old age while running with the bulls in Spain.

“Your parents did outline what they wanted done with the rest of their belongings. You,” Mr. Black pointed to Saul, “inherit the car. Hanna, you get the entertainment set. The rest of their belongings they say you should divide among yourselves.”

Saul slumped in his seat. “That’s it? Not even a note?”

“It’s not like they were committing suicide,” Hanna snapped at him, tears threatening to return.

Her brother winced, closing his eyes. “I didn’t mean that…”

“Actually,” Dr. Otis said, cutting in. “They left a letter for both of you with me.”

Saul sat up, reaching out so he could give them the letters now. Hanna leaned forward, staring at their family doctor. Dr. Otis reached into his coat pocket, pulling both letters out. He handed each to their owner. Saul tore open his, yanking out the papers inside. Hanna clutched hers, blinking back tears.

“Dear Son; If you are reading this, then we have died….”

Saul closed his eyes and took a breath. He opened his eyes again to read the letter silently. Hanna leaned over to see, but he closed the paper before she could look.

“What?” Hanna pulled back.

“Read your own,” Saul snapped.

Sighing, Hanna tore open her envelope. Inside was one sheet of paper, written in her mother’s elegant hand. She read each word silently.

 

My Dearest Daughter Hanna,

I am sorry, more than I can say that you are reading this. It means that we have died before you were ready to face the world. We had meant to write a different letter full of advice for you, but this one will not be like that. Perhaps you are discovering that the rules to life do not apply to you as they do to others. Or maybe you have not yet seen that things are going to be a little trickier for you. We cannot give much advice in this case since we do not know what you are going through. However, we want you to know that we love you. Use your talents well. Learn to see who is trustworthy and who is not. You can no longer be naïve and under our protection. We had hoped to shield you from the world to keep you uncorrupted, but perhaps that had been a mistake. Whatever happens, know your brother is your greatest ally. Dr. Otis is a good friend, as well as Bob Black, who knows of your unique talents. Someday you too will learn of them, and maybe you’ll be the hero we all see in you.

 

Love,

Mom and Dad

 

Hanna wept, clutching her letter. She could hear Saul sniff, trying to hold back his own tears. He glanced over at her, giving her a smile.

“I’ll take care of you, Hanna. No one is going to separate us.”

She nodded. “But I have to go to a foster home.”

Saul smirked. “Maybe, but I can visit. They can’t keep me away.”

Dr. Otis smiled, rising to his feet. “Ok, then. I think you two had better get in a nap before guests start arriving.”

Both Saul and Hanna looked up. “Guests?”

Mr. Black also rose. “Of course. Your neighbors will know you two are home. The funeral will be tomorrow. They’ll want to come over and see you.”

Both Hanna and Saul looked daunted. Their neighbors were fine, but it wasn’t like they had street parties or anything. They knew more people from their church than their neighborhood.

“The funeral,” Saul murmured. “We don’t know anything about that. How do we arrange a funeral? Should we call the bishop?”

Hanna opened her mouth to say perhaps the Relief Society President should be the one to call.

“We arranged it already,” Mr. Black said, businesslike as ever. “You don’t have to do anything except be here and meet people.”

The brother and sister relaxed, though Saul muttered that he’d better call the bishop anyway to make sure his parents’ wishes were being respected. But indeed, just as the letter said, Mr. Black and Dr. Otis were friends. Things would be fine, if not a degree uncomfortable.

 

Visitors started to come in at around four in the afternoon. Most of them were from church, and most carried casseroles or cakes with them. Hanna and Saul had stacks of food on the counters. They ate through what they liked and hid the rest in the refrigerator for the day after when other guests would come to express their condolences. Their Home Teacher came around and discussed with Saul and Hanna their immediate needs—which included packing up the home for possible sale. Their mother’s Ministering Sisters visited for the same reasons and helped them pack up and clean things, bringing boxes and newspaper. 

Everyone had heard the news of the crashed airplane. Most were shaken up by it, blaming the crash on terrorists. They had no proof of course. The news of the seven survivors, especially the charming story of the one scratch-free baby, spread as heroic and exciting. Hanna had been mentioned, but her supposed wound-free exit from the hospital remained on the down low. Only her friends, when they came to visit, saw that she was only hairless from the incident.

David Anderson stood on her doorstep holding his skateboard in his hands, joined with his pals and also Hanna’s friend Inna Polichushenko. Inna was holding flowers, her eyes rimmed red.

Hanna stared at them, suddenly feeling very awkward. “Hi.”

“Can we come in?” David asked, looking hopeful.

Blushing, Hanna tugged the hat she was wearing just a bit lower. It was just a baseball cap, not covering well at all. She stepped aside.

They walked in, pausing on the front mat.

Inna peered at Hanna and sighed. “So you really were in the crash. You look ok.”

“Except for your hair,” David murmured, peering around her ears. “Did they shave it off in the hospital?”

Hanna blushed more, ducking her head. “Yeah. Most of it was burned off anyway.”

They went silent, take in slight breaths.

“I am sorry about what happened to your Mom and Dad,” Inna murmured finally, looking at the flowers mostly. She could not quite raise her eyes.

Hanna was staring at her shoes.

Inna reached out to hug her friend. Yet when they touched, Hanna broke into tears. Pulling her into a warmer embrace, Inna wept with her. And they continued her embrace as the boys stood awkwardly, not sure what to say. All except for David, who walked in to join the hug, reaching out to Hanna.

Snap! An electrical spark zapped the second his finger connected to her.

Hanna let go of

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 03.05.2022
ISBN: 978-3-7554-7910-9

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