Amidst the white clouds and mist, a blue-and-white ERJ-190 passenger plane broke through the night and flew across the sky.
Faint sparks burst out from under the left wing of the plane. In the black gap above the wing, there was a wisp of swaying dark red in the endless darkness, like a fire beast dormant in the depths of the ashes. The human throat is suffocating.
At an altitude of 10,000 feet, a hurricane with a speed of up to 430 knots blew into the gap where the wing broke, but failed to extinguish the flames.
The plane stabilized.
But the huge roar hummed, smashing the human skull cavity one after another, shaking the world in front of him into a phantom.
There were cries one after another in the cabin. They trembled and hugged in fear. Only tears could vent their inner fear at the moment.
In order to prevent the plane from suddenly losing weight, the flight attendant clasped the seat tightly with both hands and walked to the front cabin of the plane.
Picking up the microphone, she spoke in a hoarse voice, and got in touch with the pilot first. After obtaining approval, the door to the cockpit opened from the inside, and she entered quickly.
The light suddenly dimmed. Unlike the passenger cabin, the cockpit of the plane was not illuminated by a strong light source. In the almost completely dark environment, only the densely packed instrument panel is emitting light, more like the night sky, spreading out the entire night, sprinkled with diamond-like stars.
The flight crew have all received professional training. The stewardess did not dare to get close to the instrument, but stood at a distance, talking loudly—
"The condition of the cabin is stable. Thirteen people were injured, two of whom were seriously injured and not life-threatening."
"From the passenger window, it can be seen that there is a gap on the upper surface of the left wing, and there is fire in the lower part. It is suspected that the engine is damaged and the debris cuts the wing."
The captain turned around and raised his voice: "You speculated that the engine was damaged and the wing was cut?"
The flight attendant was stunned: "No, no, it was said by a passenger." A pair of black eyes full of conviction and determination appeared in her mind, and she became firm: "Captain, there is an active pilot in the cabin, please come to the cockpit for assistance." , the pilot said he was always there if needed. He is proficient in all aircraft types in service... "
"You said he is proficient in all the models in service?"
In the darkness, an unfamiliar male voice interrupted the flight attendant. She seemed to have just realized that there was a third person in the cockpit. She lowered her head and saw the man squatting behind the engine at a glance.
He was really squatting, his figure disappearing into the night. Holding the two throttle levers of the engine with each hand, when looking back sideways, half of the face was blocked by the shadow cast, and because the nose was too thin and tall, like a knife and an axe, there was an almost cool feeling. Cold means.
It's hard to imagine seeing a third person in the cockpit of an airplane, who is obviously slovenly but very handsome. A head of black hair seemed to have just woken up and was stroked and tidied up a few times, and a few strands of hair fell uncontrollably and hung in front of his eyes. Every strand of hair revealed the same alienation and carelessness as the owner. His clothes were slightly wrinkled, his pupils were slightly darker, and a white light occasionally flashed across his slender neck—
It was a head-mounted Bluetooth headset, which was casually worn around the neck by the owner at the moment.
This overly superior skin made the stewardess forget to speak for a while, until the co-pilot cursed angrily.
"Holy shit! Someone still makes such a joke at this time. Proficient in all the models in active service? Does he think he is God!"
This sentence was like a thunderbolt, which made the stewardess wake up instantly and feel a chill in her heart.
The disaster happened so suddenly that she even forgot, how could there be someone proficient in all the models in this world!
Training an excellent pilot is a long and arduous process.
The basic course of study takes about two years, followed by at least four months of flight training. If you have a flight license, you cannot fly a passenger plane. For example, if you want to fly this ERJ-190, you need to receive another half-year of training for a specific aircraft type: for half a year, you only learn this ERJ-190 passenger plane.
In other words, the pilots who can sit in the cockpit of this ERJ-190 have received at least three years of long learning.
And that's just for this one plane.
Being teased in such an anxious situation, even an experienced captain can't take it easy: "Passengers never know what kind of difficulty the people in the cockpit are facing at this moment, comparable to climbing Mount Drina. .”
The stewardess felt a dry mouth, and she was about to apologize when she heard a voice say softly: "I know one pilot who is proficient in all aircraft types in service."
"Mr. Patrick?!" The co-pilot looked at him in shock.
The stewardess also followed the voice and looked down, but the Asian man who spoke surprisingly had already turned his head away, leaving only the back of her head. He was concentrating on manipulating the throttle lever with a frivolous voice, but somehow the three people in the cockpit felt that he seemed extremely serious.
"There is an air force pilot in Huaguo, it seems like this." He paused for a syllable, and then said casually: "But it doesn't matter, three people in the cockpit are enough, it doesn't matter whether he is lying or telling the truth. People If there are too many, there will be different opinions, and it will not be able to be used, it is just a burden."
He said casually, "He doesn't have to come."
This person's tone was calm and casual, but because he had been in the top position for a long time, there was a hint of an order that could not be refused. The stewardess didn't feel that something was wrong, she subconsciously wanted to go back to the cabin, and just when she turned around, she realized that the captain should be the one who really controls the fate of the plane.
She was surprised by her reaction for a moment, then looked up at the captain.
Unexpectedly, the captain nodded and said, "Just listen to Mr. Patrick."
Patrick
Who is he
The stewardess left the cockpit feeling confused.
Before leaving, she heard the captain say to the co-pilot: "The situation is temporarily stable, hang up the 7700 emergency code, open the "Flight Operation Manual", and inquire about the damage of the No. 1 engine."
The co-pilot quickly repeated the captain's words, followed by the sound of turning the pages of the book, he was flipping through the catalog.
"Page 137."
It was that Mr. Patrick's voice!
The stewardess exclaimed inwardly.
The co-pilot was surprised: "It's really on page 137!"
The captain picked up the wireless communicator and pressed the switch: "Mayday Mayday Mayday, American Airlines flight 2186, calling Boston..."
The door of the cockpit was closed tightly behind, but the doubts in the flight attendant's heart were quietly opened like a Pandora's box—
Who is this mysterious Mr. Patrick
***
The stewardess quietly came to the cabin and explained the situation to Fucheng in a low voice.
He was already ready to go to the cockpit to assist, but when he suddenly heard that his request was rejected by the captain, Fucheng was a little surprised, he shook his head and said: "Follow the captain's arrangement."
The stewardess bowed seriously: "Thank you."
Unable to enter the cockpit, all he can do is protect himself and those around him as much as possible.
The ERJ-190 passenger plane is a small short-distance passenger plane produced by Embraer in 2002. Even if one engine is turned off, it can land smoothly. The plane approached Boston's Logan International Airport with a disturbing tremor, and through the small porthole, the ground was getting closer.
Suddenly, two prompts sounded in the cabin, followed by the captain's announcement.
"Good evening, passengers. This is Stephen George, the captain of this flight. There is a small problem with our plane, but please rest assured that we are working hard to control the plane. The plane will land at Logan International Airport in four minutes. , please fasten your seat belt and take a collision avoidance posture."
After the voice fell, the stewardesses sat on the safety seats and said loudly:
"Bend down, bow your head, hold your knees tight!"
The passengers in the cabin lowered their heads in panic, taking anti-collision postures.
These are the four minutes that determine fate. The three minutes before the plane takes off and the eight minutes before landing are called the "dangerous eleven minutes", and 80% of air accidents occur at this moment.
Fucheng lowered his head and hugged his knee quietly.
The passenger next to him didn't know that this was most likely the last four minutes of their lives, but he did. He closed his eyes, wanting to watch a revolving door of life like in a movie. But what emerged in front of my eyes was only a boundless expanse of whiteness, and a figure hidden at the end of the long whiteness that could never be seen clearly.
Countdown to three minutes...
Countdown to two minutes...
One minute countdown...
5, 4, 3, 2—
1.
"boom-"
The plane hit the ground hard, and the cabin was filled with screams and cries.
It hit the runway, but it didn't get smashed into a patty. After a violent shake, the plane taxied forward. Fucheng suddenly raised his head and looked out the window, the flashes of fire trucks and police cars lit up on both sides of the runway.
The airport media standing at the end of the runway has already been ready, with high beams, long-range microphones, and cameras all in place.
The sweaty host faced the camera and spit out excitedly: "It's landed, it's landed safely! American Airlines flight 2186 has successfully landed at Logan International Airport at this moment, and it's still taxiing—"
Forty minutes later, Fu Cheng took the little girl by the hand and got off the plane.
Leaving the crowded place, the girl's mother thanked her repeatedly and took the child from Fucheng.
"Thank you brother!"
Fu Cheng waved his hand, turned and left.
Walking under the tall floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the terminal building, Fucheng looked at the plane hidden in the night from a distance. The fire on the wing had already been extinguished by fire trucks, and the injured passengers were picked up by ambulances. Now a group of people gathered around the plane, preparing to investigate the cause of the plane accident.
The last night of the Independence Day holiday is destined to be a sleepless night.
Fu Cheng looked away, only to see a few men in black suits and work badges walking towards him.
Fucheng stopped and was surprised.
He didn't expect people from NTSB (National Transportation Safety Board) to come so quickly.
The two sides passed each other like parallel lines that would never meet.
The other party didn't notice Fucheng.
Fu Cheng looked back at these people.
He had things to do in Boston, and he had no time to stay. So strode away.
***
After NTSB investigators arrived at the scene of the accident, they immediately took evidence and took pictures of the scene. Some people entered the cabin of the plane, and some people came to the runway, and took pictures of the tire marks on the runway to keep their certificates.
The person in charge of this incident was a tall man with brown hair. Hearing what the on-site staff said, he was surprised: "Is he also on this plane?" Then, under the guidance of the staff, he walked through the crowd , walked across the corridor bridge, came to the terminal building, and saw the man with his back to the floor-to-ceiling windows and his hands in his pockets.
"Patrick."
The man listened to the music with his head down, but didn't respond.
"Patrick!"
He walked up to the other party and finally attracted the other party's attention.
The man took off his white bluetooth headset, raised his long eyebrows: "Lovince? Are you in Boston?" He showed a rather mocking smile, "Oh, you have finally been sent to the Boston branch?"
If he hadn't had some friendship with the man in front of him and knew that he had this personality, Lovins would have no doubt that he would have smashed the man's pretty face with a punch.
"I just happened to be in Boston on business."
The man was wearing a black mask and a white earphone hanging around his neck. He was listening to music leisurely just now. He didn't look like he had just experienced a terrible plane crash.
Lovins knows that he can't have any expectations of the person in front of him, and he can't force him to be polite, and remember to take off his mask when talking to others. But what he couldn't bear was: "What are you eating?"
The man took off the mask with one hand, chewed vigorously a few times, and said lazily: "Chewing gum." After a while, he wanted to add another sentence: "Can't you see it?"
Lovins: "…"
Take a deep breath.
"Patrick, I heard that you were also on this plane and entered the cockpit to assist in the landing? Maybe we can find a place to chat. Of course, if you are willing to spit out the gum and chat with me, I may be happier , Happier than seeing old friends."
"Then can you change that sentence?"
Lovins: "Huh?"
The man raised his finger and pointed behind him, and Lovins followed the trend.
"NO SMOKING"
It's not that there are no smoking rooms in the airport, it's just not open to passengers.
Lovins led the people to the smoking room dedicated to the crew. He asked the others out of the smoking room to conduct some investigative interviews. He skillfully took out a beautiful metal cigarette case from his pocket, pressed his finger on the side, and a cigarette popped out.
The man took out his long cigarette, took out the lighter he had just randomly picked up from the security box, and lit the cigarette.
In the smog, he narrowed his eyes slightly, and his deep pupils were dyed pitch black.
Lovins: "First of all, congratulations, my friend, for surviving this plane crash."
"There are victims?"
"No, it was a successful landing with no victims."
Gently gripping the slender cigarette with his thin and long fingers, he said lightly: "I will never let my name be staged in front of me."
Lovins didn't react for a moment, he opened his mouth, and he spoke Chinese fluently: "Zhuo Huan?"
Zhuo Huan glanced at him: "English name."
Lovins blankly read the English name of the person in front of him: "Reid·Irvin·Patrick...?"
Zhuo Huan laughed, his voice was low and sweet.
Lovins read his name several times, and suddenly froze: "R·I·P?!"
Rest In Peace—
rest in peace.
I've never seen someone scolding me like that!