On board a Plane 2 - Wfw 15/1 1st Part.

  And now to the new Words for Wednesday:
    Constipation          and / or       Snot
     Rivalry                                      Beluga
     Occupation                                Emergency
     Sneeze                                       Qualify  
     Wishy-washy                             Coffee
     Diatribe                                     Butt
For this installment I used Emergency. Many more words for more installments. I hope to be able to pull my valiant couple and their consorts out from this tight spot.
For now we're back in the plane with Allan, the priest, an optimistic stewardess and one brave pilot. 

  The plane began descending without rising again. It felt like sitting in a boat at the top of a wave and then sliding, quickly, down the side of the wave. But he just kept going down. Strange dream. Allan thought to himself. Then he heard the alarm: Oxygen masks - Oxygen masks!" A tiny, metallic voice insisted next to him. Allan fumbled on the mask in the dark and clasped it over his nose and mouth just as the stewardess had showed him. His eyes cleared, the darkness turned to almost daylight, and the deep, roaring sound in his ears disappeared. It was quiet. Completely quiet. Allan looked around. The monk, no the priest, lay between the seat rows. Allan snapped free of the seatbelt, grabbed the priest by his Franciscan rope and with an effort hoisted him up into his own seat He placed the dangling oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. He couldn't close the clasp, but he held the mask until the priest again breathed by his own power and opened his eyes.
  "Thank you, or maybe not. I was on my way to Heaven, I think."
  "Oxygen deprivation." Allan said. "What happened."
  "The end of the world, I suppose," the priest said soberly. "Somebody pressed that red button."
  Allan and the priest both looked around inside the plane. Everybody had their oxygen masks on, or were helped by their neighbor to put it on.
  "We're still descending," Allan said, puzzled. "How far down can there be."
  "I don't know if I really want to know," the priest replied, but still he looked out through the window. "Far still. But the world looks absolutely and entirely wrong."
   Allan looked out. The world was brown.

  The door to the cockpit opened and a stunned stewardess stood in the door. Everybody looked at her and she held a megaphone to her mouth: "Greetings from our captain. All computer-operated systems - that is all but emergency lights, flaps and oxygen - have stopped working. We have no fuel left and we have only an inkling of where we are. The world is looking all wrong. Any and all ideas on what to do are gratefully received. We have about 10 minutes left before we reach the ground."

  "Well!" Alan heard a voice behind him say "We did not survive Armageddon just to crash pitifully to the ground. What's the best thing to land on?"
  "Water," someone suggested.
  "Snowy slopes," a man added.
  "Level ground." an old granny grunted.
  "Pine trees!" This from a young man, looking as if he hurt all over.
  They all scrabbled for a look through the windows Nothing but brown as far as they could see.
  "Wait a bit, the first voice said again. This ground looks entirely too level. Maybe it's the ocean after all."
  "An illusion," said the stewardess, "even the Rocky Mountains look flat seen from above. We'll have to wait a bit until we can see more." She went back into the cockpit. 
  "Level ground was the right option," she said, even smiling slightly. "Our pilot is trying to land. Well we do actually have any alternative suggestions, do we? I'll have to ask you all to sit down and fasten your belts once again. Keep the masks on, and for God's sake keep still. It's going to be rough. Nobody moves, gets up or even speaks before I tell you to." She showed them how to put down their heads, tuck in the chin and place the arms over their head. "If you have a pillow or some other soft item, please place it between head and legs. Pull in your feet, place them flat to the floor. And as I told you, stay put til you're told otherwise." She then went to the empty seat in front and fastened her own belt. "I'll count down, as best I can from now. Be prepared."
  The plane shook and danced, falling faster, Allan thought. He felt surprised, the air was supposed to become denser nearer the ground, breaking their fall, slowing them down. Then he remembered the giant wall of fire. All the air had burned off, Nothing would brake their speed, nothing but the ground. He prepared to die.
  Allan looked at the priest and saw him pick up his rosary beads. Oxygen masks meant no singing. but it could not stop him from thinking. He tucked in his head, rested both hands on the back of his head and thought of Mary and his family once again. He was going to meet them. Here or there, but he was going to see them.
  "4 minutes left", the stewardess counted.
  "I can stay like this for four more minutes Allan thought. For Mary and for me. He began reciting the Lord's prayer; automatically the prayer turned to song inside his head.
  He did not hear the three minutes count, the "Two minutes to landing," from the optimistic stewardess caught him by surprise. He prayed once again, heard the one minute warning and then a crunching, jarring noise ran through the plane. 
  The noise stopped again, and began again. The plane bucked like a dancing horse, Allan held still. Even to holding his breath. A crunching, a twisting and everything went quiet once again. "Oh God." Allan prayed. "Let this be the end. I cannot take any more suspension today."

to be continued ...