Note: The fuselage is the middle section of the plane, between the tail and the front and cockpit.
GMT is Greenwich Mean Time- the time zone used for the UK.
And since I went a little medical with my description, cortisol in the simplest of terms is the body's main stress hormone. It is controlled by the brain and its involved in body's response to shock and fear.
The 'armed' position of aircraft doors is a compulsory action which all cabin crew perform before take off. The doors are armed, which just means closing and latching them in a certain way, so that if opened in the armed position for an emergency landing, the evacuation slides automatically launch.
Habibti is the Arabic word for my love/sweetheart(female).
Saiyaara main saiyaara,
saiyaara tu saiyaara
sitaaron ke jahaan mein,
milenge abb yaara...
Bone-chilling cold. That was kind of cold you felt seep into your flesh and bones when you were thrust into sixteen-degree water, your body shaking with the crash of an adrenaline high and cortisol wracking your nervous system until your were nothing but a shivering mass of cold flesh. It was somehow made colder by the darkness around you and the sporadic beams of light coming from the many flashlights handed around seemed like beacons of warmth. The chaos around you felt like a blurry haze and the sounds of people calling out desperately for their loved ones all merged into one, agonising wail.
Meerab gripped onto the side of the life-raft, careful not to tip overboard as she ushered the passengers onto their own life rafts and helped with their life-jackets, her own hand quaking uncontrollably and her body still unprotected without a life-jacket. Holding a seven-month old infant in her hand whilst its mother climbed safely onto a raft, she hugged the baby close and prayed that it didn't take any of the trauma from today with it into the future.
With the passengers safe and somewhat settled, she straightened up and looked around the wreckage, her heart beating in a dangerously unhealthy rhythm as she watched the cabin crew hand out blankets and water. Her hands wrapped around her drenched, shivering body and she huddled into herself, needing to be alone but terrified of the demons she might lurking in her imagination now. The noise of passengers being sick into the water didn't make her wince now and she just dazedly took in the scene in front of her.
The First Class emergency exits on both sides of the plane had opened. They'd had to be opened in the 'armed' position to ensure the evacuation slides were automatically released and inflated on opening.
Arm doors and cross check
The simple instruction given by every flight attendant in-charge at take-off was routine for every member of the cabin crew, but had now taken on a dreadful context. Meerab was on the left side of the plane with half the passengers and some cabin crew. The other side couldn't be seen but had alerted that they'd also evacuated safely. People were bundled up on the evacuation slides and life rafts, with some trying to go on the wing of the plane until the wing had groaned and broke in half from the catastrophic impact.
The Boeing 747, famously called The Queen of The Skies, now lay collapsed and partially submerged in the cold waters of the Persian Gulf, a scant hundred miles from its destination city of Doha, Qatar. Its splendour and its magnificent presence in the skies were reduced to an empty, sinking vessel.
Meerab realised that it didn't matter if you crashed on land or at sea; the feeling of the plane colliding with the water was something you would never, ever forget.
The sea had felt like a cold, hard stone when the plane had hit it, with entire structure jolting and screeching at the attack to its exterior. The overhead cabins had snapped open, the luggage falling out and the tray tables following suit. The noise of the metal hitting the water still rang in her ears and then the cracking had appeared too. The plane had started to fall apart in the middle from the impact and the evacuation had been done as rapidly as possible. They had managed to get everyone out and whilst countless injuries had happened, no casualties had occurred.
And the man who'd made it possible for them to be alive right now was still inside the death trap they'd all escaped from.
They had crashed seven minutes ago and Murtasim was still inside the plane, and Meerab kept on staring up at the opened plane door like it would disappear any second. The tail of the cracked plane kept on sinking deeper and Meerab's heart became more and more constricted with it. It became difficult to breathe and she felt herself sliding overboard into the cold, dark water. Her breath came out in choppy bursts and she looked around for Maala; she would know. Wouldn't she know why exactly her husband hadn't appeared through the doors yet despite them having crash landed seven minutes ago?
Meerab had been ushered out by Maala as soon as the plane had crash landed and so she was at the very bottom of the wreckage. Leaving the safety of her life raft, she swam closer to the evacuation slide where Maala was, keeping her head above the dark water, her numb gaze fixated on the door of the aircraft.
Every minute that passed since Meerab had jumped out onto the inflated slide and looked back was making it harder to breathe. They didn't have extra fuel, so the threat of explosion was low, but why wasn't he coming out? Why was he risking it? What could possibly be keeping him inside a sinking plane?
The plane was already half underwater and the slides were unstable due to the number of people on them. The tail end of the aircraft was sinking rapidly and suddenly, it fell into the water with a loud splash. Meerab watched in horror as the tail slowly disappeared into the water, her heart racing. Her head whipped up to her left, towards the front end of the plane; towards the cockpit her husband was still in. And then Meerab was sure she was screaming but nothing came out as she looked to where the cockpit had been mere seconds ago.
But it was gone. The crown of the plane glinted in the glow of the several flashlights, sinking rapidly and leaving just bubbles around it. And Meerab was numb. It was gone. The cockpit was gone. It was underwater. Along with Murtasim.
He'd never come out.
He'd never come out.
He'd never come out.
It was like a tortuous broken record in Meerab's stunned mind as she stared wild-eyed at the where the cockpit had been. Her mouth opened for scream after agonised, unintelligible scream which disappeared into the winds of the Gulf.
Her hands trashed wildly in the water, trying to get to where the cockpit would've sunk to. Her arms burned as she cut her way through the water, her mouth slipping into the water and continuously swallowing the dangerously salty water around her. She felt her throat burn with every swallow and her head felt heavier by the second. She felt her head slip fully underwater and this time Meerab couldn't bring herself to lift it again; not after seeing what floated underneath the surface of the water.
Her mouth parted on a scream and her hands shot out as Murtasim's familiar body floated aimlessly in the water. His hands were outstretched and his shirt was unbuttoned, just wafting around his body. He looked so serene; his eyes were closed and his mouth parted, but the wound at the back of his head left the water around his head muddied with blood.
Meerab moved her body as hard as she could but he kept on floating further away. Until he was too far away. Her hands reached out but touched only water, and as Meerab watched in horror, Murtasim's lifeless body sank lower and lower into the dark, opaque depths of the water, until his face wasn't even visible to her. With her mouth still parted on a scream, she watched with wide eyes as a final glimpse of his Captain's stripes was granted to her before his body disappeared into the dark, merciless abyss.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"Shh...calm down habibti. You are okay now. Shh..."
Meerab gasped as her eyes shot open and her fractured breath became trapped in her chest, struggling to escape. Her back arched on the hard surface she was lying on and her head tilted back, her wild eyes looking up, at what seemed like a rough metal ceiling. Strange wail-like sounds emerged from somewhere and Meerab realised it was her. She felt warm hands on her chest and face as the same soothing words she'd just heard were repeated. Her breath released in broken spurts and her eyelids fell, flickering at the harsh light being shone into her eyes.
It was hard to distinguish between nightmare and reality. Everything had been a nightmare. Was this a nightmare too?
Where was he?
A fog horn sounded and the last thought in Meerab's exhausted mind before fainting was that she was on a ship.
The sound of one hundred and thirty five people clapping had Meerab's head shoot up the door on her side of the plane. Her breath rushed out as she blinked slowly, her eyes savouring the sight. Anchoring herself tightly to a life raft she was holding, she watched as thundering claps filled the air and passengers on her side of the plane turned towards the plane door, their hands enthusiastically moving back and forth in claps. Following suit, passengers on the other side, who couldn't even see what was going on had joined in.
Their Captain appeared at the open gap in the plane and looked down at half of the plane gathered on the slide and water. His eyes roaming shrewdly across the organised chaos of the aftermath of the landing, he looked for a second longer and then turned his back, disappearing again.
Meerab frowned, her hands clutching the wing tighter in nervous apprehension.
Why did he go back in?
The claps quietened and the crowd began murmuring, also confused why their pilot had gone back in. Flashlights were shone in the direction of the plane door in an effort to see what going on inside, but the cover of dusk was making it hard to see anything. Meerab gulped.
Suddenly, the crowd quietened completely and movement occurred at the doors. Frowning, Meerab watched as Murtasim appeared, with Adam's shadow behind him. A collective gasp escaped everyone who was witness to the scene and pin drop silence fell as Murtasim stepped out of the shadow of the doorframe with a man hanging upside from his shoulder. Meerab squinted to see and suddenly gasped as she realised what had kept her husband inside for so long. The flight engineer hung unconsciously from Murtasim's shoulder and Meerab watched as he tilted and let the man's body slide down onto the side of the evacuation slide just as Adam walked out with the other hijacker on his shoulder.
Depositing both men under the watchful eyes of Maala, Murtasim stepped further onto the slide and bent his head to speak to her, who then pointed a finger in Meerab's general direction. Meerab saw Murtasim turn his head to the wing of the plane behind him and then turn it back, grabbing a flashlight and blanket from Maala's hands and striding down the slide, absently nodding at the passengers who spoke to him or wanted to shake his hand.
Then in a flash, Murtasim dove into the dark water, his flashlight emitting a beam of light tracking his movements until he reappeared, slicking his dripping hair back from his forehead. He looked back at his plane for a moment, surveying the damage and most likely taking in the fact that the right engine had broken apart on impact and sank already, and the right wing was now broken in half, the thinner end submerged in the water. The imbalance in weight was having a toll on the fuselage of the plane, which had now cracked, letting the tail sink deeper and deeper into the sea. He looked for a second longer, his face grim before turning around and scanning the water.
Meerab's heart did a pitter-patter as she realised he was coming for her and her hands let go of the life-raft she had been holding onto desperately. She floated towards him and watched as he swam though the water, the flashlight hanging from his mouth and the now-drenched blanket in his hand. His forehead crinkled into a frown as he looked around and then his head followed the splashes she was making and landed directly on her. And suddenly Meerab didn't feel adrift at sea.
They both slowed down for just a second, looking at one another in near disbelief. Meerab, losing her momentum and unable to keep afloat because of one hand clenched into a fist, slipped underwater. Her hand tightened the fist as she moved her free hand underneath the water and felt herself swallow a gulp of the salty water. Her legs thrashing about in an effort to push her back up, she suddenly felt something circle around her waist and then the water was gone. Her head came above the surface and she felt herself being pulled into Murtasim's warm chest.
And finally, finally, Meerab and Murtasim let out an easy breath of relief.
It was over.
Meerab coughed as Murtasim's slid his hand out and wrapped the blanket around her before sliding his hand right back around her waist. Her eyes and lungs burned and the cuts on her throat and neck burned like they were on fire. Meerab gritted her teeth to keep the pain at bay.
But it was okay. Somehow, it was now okay. His warm chest and the circle of his strong arms were like an island after a long shipwreck. Meerab bent her head into his chest in desperation, her breath laboured and fractured with sobs of relief, fear and sheer fatigue. His arm was like a band of steel around her hips, his chest against hers and his lips at her ear as he kept them above the water. His own breaths were harsh with the rush of adrenaline and his chest heaved up and down as he floated them gently towards the back of the broken wing, away from curious eyes.
Sliding a rough, faintly bloodied hand onto her face, Murtasim made her look up at him, his eyes intently roaming her face and the part of her body visible above the water. His face looked like it was made of stone; his jaw clenched and the vein there ticking. Only his eyes were alive, and they blazed with intensity. Anger, relief, worry and most of all, a kind of wildness shone through them as he looked her up and down. His hand pushed her face up by the jaw and his eyes blazed brighter as they registered the jagged, open cuts all over one side of her smooth, creamy throat and neck.
Meerab looked up at him through hazy eyes, her mouth parted on the gasps escaping her mouth and her hands clutching onto the stripes on his shoulders. Her head felt so, so heavy and she could take the distance any longer, couldn't tolerate the feeling of being adrift as he held her away from him to examine her. Clenching her hands around the band on his shoulders which his stripes were decorated on, Meerab pulled herself flat against Murtasim, the water helping her body slide effortlessly to its destination.
Finally opening the hand she'd had clenched since she'd left the plane, Meerab moved it down to just above his heart and with shaky hands, pinned the gold phoenix she'd unpinned from that exact spot many minutes ago. Returning the badge back where it belonged, she stroked a hand over it and looked up, her hands gripping his stripes again.
Suddenly the tips of their noses touched and it was their moment in the galley all over again. Time slowed and Meerab let her eyes roam over his face. She dazedly watched as water droplets made their way down from the dishevelled strands of hair on his forehead, down his chiselled cheeks and into his dark stubble. Her eyes fluttered from the fatigue and she felt herself smile brokenly as the-oh so comforting smell of lemon and patchouli surrounded her; deeper now that his skin was wet. Their hot breaths fell like a warm, comforting blanket over their faces and Meerab raised her eyes to look into Murtasim's dark ones.
The tips of their noses skimmed each other and Meerab felt herself wanting to get closer to him. Somehow close enough to stop her heart beating wildly in her chest and to stop the spinning in her head. And so she followed the path of his warm breath until his lips were a fraction of a heartbeat away. So close. So comforting. So wonderful.
The first man who's lips had touched hers. The only man. It didn't matter what happened now. It didn't matter if this broke them or somehow made something of the ticking time-bomb that was their relationship, he would always be the first. Always special.
And it was the last thing Meerab registered before her fingers slipped away from the stripes and her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her head falling backwards with a jolt.
Meerab groaned drowsily as the events of the crash landing flashed in her mind, and drunkenly trashed her arms about; her eyelids heavy and her mind tired. Hands grabbed her own firmly and her head shook in denial; of what she didn't know. She was moving, and really fast too. The sound of a trolley or something like it being wheeled registered faraway within her mind and voices sounded from all around her. A continuous beeping noise made her wince and then she felt a sharp prick at the top of her arm and suddenly it felt warm and cosy. It somehow got darker behind her eyelids and she felt herself being called to a much, much calmer place. Her arms fell into gentle, waiting hands and were tucked into her side safely, with Meerab slipping into oblivion once again.
Twenty minutes after Phoenix Air Flight 505 crash landed into the Persian Gulf
Murtasim's body jerked into action as Meerab's head fell lopsidedly and her body suddenly detached itself from his and started floating away. His arm instinctively tightened his arm around her waist and he pulled her into his chest roughly, his adrenaline-ridden mind registering that she'd fainted. Her body suddenly became heavier and Murtasim pulled her up, anchoring her to himself whilst his other arm kept them afloat. His eyes moved from her face to his sinking plane, and then to the slide visible from the side of the plane they were on. His eyes clashed with Maala's worried ones and a look was exchanged between them. Murtasim nodded at his loyal flight attendant in-charge, the gesture conveying his gratitude for what the woman had done for the woman in his arms.
Maala gave a gentle nod in return, her eyes on her Captain in a tight embrace with the woman he seemed to be willing to go to any lengths for. Her lips curving in a tiny, hesitant smile, she turned her back returned to the care of her passengers.
They would be okay. The threat had been neutralised, the plane had landed, the passengers evacuated and her Captain finally had Meerab safe in his arms.
Yes, everything would be okay.
"Phoenix Air Flight PX505 had to perform a crash landing on water at midday today. Reports of the events and injuries sustained have been coming in but Phoenix Air or anyone on board Flight PX505 is yet to give a statement. We are awaiting reports for any casualties.
The Boeing 747, kitted with almost every aviation luxury known to man, crash landed in the Persian Gulf, part of the Mediterranean Sea, at around four-thirty GMT and was stranded for almost an hour as negotiations were conducted between Qatar and its bordering nations to allow Qatari search and rescue into the highly sensitive area.
The Persian Gulf borders Iran and Iraq, and is said to be hostile in some areas where trade routes have been set up.
Qatari military was also deployed on the order of the Qatari Emir, Sheikh Mohammad bin Kaleem, who is said to be a close friend and ally of Omar Maktabi and Captain Murtasim Khan, founder and major shareholder of Phoenix Air respectively.
The survivors were first rescued by Navy ships and given emergency paramedic attention before being airlifted to Doha's Al Ahli Hospital.
We are still awaiting news on number of confirmed survivors and the unvarnished events which occurred on board Flight PX505, which was carrying passengers of 7 different nationalities, including British nationals.
The wreckage of Flight PX505 still lies in the Persian Gulf, with drones and cameras prohibited in the area.
Has the threat to Phoenix Air, the world's most luxury fleet of airliners, been acted out or was this a dreadful coincidence? How much of this was pilot error? And most importantly, was Flight PX505 hijacked?
Tessa Howard, reporting from Qatar for BBC News."
The sound of leaking water dripping onto metal set an uneasy background score as the volume of the television displaying that evening's BBC news faded until it was completely silent. The concrete room was dark except for the bright colours of the television illuminating their light onto the battered, rusty round table and seven chairs placed around of it. Movement occurred in the shadows and the only occupant of the room, sitting on one of those seven chairs bent forward, lit a cigarette and leaned back, processing the events just shown on the news.
Staring at the television running pictures of the majestic Phoenix Air fleet, Omar Maktabi and Murtasim Khan again and again, he let out a deep sigh and rolled his shoulders to finally shake off the tension which had been frozen in him since forever. His head dropping back as he savoured a drag of the cigarette, he let out a chuckle and closed his eyes, basking in the high.
The tip, tip, tip of the water droplets sounded continuously and the room continued to be illuminated with the faces of Omar Maktabi and Captain Murtasim Khan flashing repeatedly on the television; two men who had the world at their fingertips, and would very soon have the fingers of that entire world pointed at them.
Hello my dear readers, happy reading! First and foremost, I have been so overwhelmed by the love you have showered on the last two chapters. I have been smiling and then full on grinning reading the comments and dms on here & on Twitter. Thank you so, so much for the love, I'm truly grateful for each and every one of you.
Onto the chapter; thank you for your patience, I didn't want to make you all wait too long and I hope this chapter serves you well. This is the final part of this chapter. It had been planned for quite a while but was written and posted in quite a hurry, so I apologise for my typos.
Enjoy and feedback will be much appreciated.
Till next time, D xo