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Melanie's face turned white. She got up. "I am going to the children, one way or another. I don't care what it takes!"
"You need not to go, lady," said an elderly gentleman behind her. "The broadcast is wrong. The Russian missiles will be aimed only at military targets; not at the city."
"Yes, but those targets are in the city," said the woman next to him. "And what happens to the rest of the warheads for which no military targets exist? They'll be used against people." She paused and smiled briefly at Melanie. "You'd better go to your children, lady, while you still can. I wish to God I could do the same." She began to cry bitterly, holding a photograph crumpled in her hand. She looked at it, and showed it to Melanie.
+ + +
Harry was one of the finest men I had flown with. He was thorough, methodical, careful, alert, and efficient. Not the slightest detail went unnoticed by him. Emotionally, he displayed the same character. Some referred to him as the Rock of Gibraltar. His hands still held the controls, but he was no longer in command of them.
I looked at him. How would I feel? Moments ago he had seen his family by the pool, alive, entertaining friends. How must anyone feel? A part of his being was to be murdered. His thoughts were with them no doubt, for one last embrace.
I felt a tremendous respect for him, which was superseded only by the compassion I felt for the city as a whole. "The only hope I see for us," I said to Harry, "is to cross the mountains out to sea, before the blast hits. We might get some cloud cover over the water to shield us from a possible heat-burst. Can you remember how cool it gets on the beach when a cloud comes along?"
But Harry said nothing. He didn't even change his expression.
"Hey, Harry, wake up!"
It seemed important somehow, to get him out his stupor. But he simply would not respond. Suddenly I felt ashamed of myself. We had come so close, seen his house, his family, yet not close enough to touch, to say good-bye.
My thoughts turned to Melanie and the children. Would Vancouver be in danger too? Would I see them there? I felt a flash of great fear, but didn't know why. We had arranged to meet in Vancouver, and Vancouver was not on the target list. I should be exploding with joy!
The trauma ended as the door behind us was flung open. Rosalinde burst onto the flight deck complaining bitterly that I hadn't informed the passengers as to why the landing had been aborted.
Rosalinde, a tall girl, slender, pretty, with beautiful red hair, but a sharp tongue, was no stranger to the flight deck. "It's not fair!" she yelled before she even closed the door behind her. "You guys screw up and I have to take the shit for it!"
I had to remind myself that Harry had warned me not to misjudge her. "Beneath that brusque facade is a heart of gold," he had said. "Deep down she's everyone's favorite."
When she noticed Harry's condition, her tone changed.
"My gosh what happened? Is Harry sick? Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Please lock the door," I said, "I will explain..."
"I am sorry for storming in like this," she replied. "I had no idea."
"No, the problem isn't with Harry," I said. "Its much worse."
"We aren't going to crash, are we? I came to complain for a concert violinist in First Class. He has a performance tonight...."
"We won't crash, but he won't play tonight either...."
"But his whole career may be at stake. Why can't we land? He's going to kill you, you know, when he finds out. He's got bumped off the flight from New York, and now this! He may be here any minute to blast you if you won't let me tell him why.... And what has this to do with old Harry?" she added, "I don't understand."
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