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  Bo interrupted, speaking softly, “Please don’t worry. Major Samuels will find him and bring him out.”

  She gently handed the woman off to two other women who escorted her into the crowd. Bo had already removed one high heel, and was only in her nylons in the snow. She ran over to Bobby Kennedy.

  “Corporal, I need you and these other two men to stand on each other’s shoulders and make me a human ladder on the emergency ramp.”

  They understood and quickly complied, with Kennedy the top man. Bo climbed up over their backs and onto the Marine’s shoulders, but still could not reach the emergency opening in the jet.

  The corporal grabbed her feet and yelled, “On three, ma’am, jump! One, two, three!”

  She jumped while he shoved, and she went flying upward, and grabbed the edge of the emergency opening, where heavy smoke was now pouring out. Bo pulled and kicked with her feet and, holding her breath, scrambled into the blackness. She could not see.

  Bo yelled, “Bobby!”

  She heard a faint muffled answer.

  “Bobby,” she yelled, “there is a little boy on board!”

  She now clearly heard him yell, “Go, now!”

  Bo knew enough about Bobby to know that she should not argue, question, or hesitate. He was a former Green Beret, a member of Delta Force, and knew what he was doing better than anyone around in any type of emergency. She complied, and slid down with all three men catching her. They backed away, standing with the other passengers. The lance corporal tried to offer her his shoes, but she flatly refused.

  One of the fuel tanks on the opposite side of the plane blew, and the mother screamed, “My baby!”

  It was a bloodcurdling scream and unnerved many there, some now with tears in their eyes, and all eyes were glued on the tiny emergency exit in the side of the big jet.

  Smoke billowed out; then suddenly the suicide belt of C4 came flying out and hit the bottom of the inflatable ramp. Bo, wanting to give her feet some activity anyway, ran forward and grabbed it. Bobby suddenly came flying out of the smoke, feet-first, his shirt removed and wrapped around his head leaving only a crack for his eyes. In his arms was a little boy wearing an oxygen mask with the tube going into a water pitcher from the galley with Bobby’s tie shoved into it making an airtight seal. Bobby had something wrapped around his neck, and slid all the way down quickly, hitting the ground with a thump on his back, but still holding the boy protectively in his arms. Bo and the three men rushed forward, as well as the mother and two women.

  His butt and back covered in mud now, Bobby stood and removed the mask from the boy’s mouth. He removed his own shirt and replaced it on his body.

  The mother, in tears, wrapped her arms around her son and smiled broadly at Bobby, crying out, “Thank you! Thank you! You saved my son!”

  “We were fine, Mom,” the boy said nonplussed. “Bobby said we are perfectly safe. He’s cool!”

  Bo felt a shiver go down her spine. Then Bobby turned, and she got tears in her eyes, easily camouflaged by the now hard-falling snow. He walked over to her, pulling off Bo’s Nike running shoes that were hanging by the laces around his neck. They had been in her carry-on bag.

  Bobby handed them to her, saying, “Thought you might need these. There is a pair of your socks inside.”

  She could not help herself. She stood on her frozen tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

  Bobby called for all the people to come forward. Behind him the smoke was trailing off, but flames still shot up on the other side of the jet, steam was rising everywhere, and one lone dead tree was aflame. All the people on the jet gathered around in a big semicircle, and suddenly one old man started clapping for Bobby and Bo. Others joined in, and soon all were clapping for them in the midst of a blizzard. Bobby, embarrassed, raised his hand and the clapping died down.

  He yelled, “Folks, just because things go better with just one chief, does anybody object to me being in charge?”

  The old man yelled, “Sonny, if they do, I’ll club ’em with one of these logs.”

  People chuckled.

  Bobby said, “I know it looks bleak, but we’ll be okay, but I’ll need help right away. The fire from the fuel will help keep us warm a little bit longer, and I don’t think we’ll have any more explosions, but I do think the blizzard will put it out soon. Now, I need the C4 plastic explosive in those vests torn into small strips. If we light it with matches, it makes a great fire itself or fire-starter.”

  The Marine raised his hand.

  “Kennedy,” Bobby acknowledged.

  “Sir, that is C4. It won’t blow up?”

  Bobby smiled. “Well, if you stick a firecracker in it, but if you simply light it, it will make a nice little cooking fire that burns a long time. Speaking of that, I need several groups of volunteers. The first group will get water off the plane when the fire and smoke clear, then food. Another group will help me start tearing the padding out of the seats. Another will unload as much carry-on and especially regular luggage if we can get to it.”

  Kennedy said, “I have one question, Major. I thought army C.I.D. agents were only warrant officers or enlisted swine, like me. How did you both become C.I.D. agents?”

  Bobby said, “Well, we still have to wait on the fire anyway. Because of 9/11 they created a special C.I.D. unit headquartered in the Pentagon that is generally kept pretty quiet. Captain Devore and I are the senior officers of the unit. To become an FBI agent, Treasury agent, Secret Service, or whatever, you have to have at least a college degree. Not so with C.I.D., and a lot of investigation requires a lot of records and file searches, so they created this unit to work alongside other Homeland Security-type officers with education and experience equal to FBI and other federal agents.”

  A young man raised his hand, and Bobby pointed at him.

  “Major—I think they said,” he asked, “why are you going to tear up the seats? Can’t they be used for beds?”

  Bobby said, “Good question, sir. We would have trouble removing the seats, but more importantly, we will have comfortable beds out of pine boughs. We are all dressed for summer, but we are right at timberline somewhere in the Colorado Rockies in a blizzard. We will use the luggage to insure everyone is wearing a long-sleeve shirt or jacket and long pants. Then we will stuff the seat padding down the sleeves, body, and legs of everybody’s clothing. We will tie off the cuffs and ends of sleeves, and the padding will act as very good insulation, so it will be like you are all wearing a snowmobile suit. If we run out of padding, we will use dry leaves or pine needles. They work, too.”

  A big murmur ran through the whole crowd.

  The wife of the old man said, “Young man, are you a professional hero or what? I swanee!”

  Bobby got embarrassed as people cheered again, and even more so when Bo held up her hand and said, “Yes, ma’am, he is. Major Samuels is an MP detective, but he was a Green Beret in the Gulf War and earned two Silver Stars, and General Perry, army chief of staff, nominated him for the Distinguished Service Cross for his actions in Iraq.”

  “Captain Devore!” Bobby yelled. “More than enough about me. We have to survive this blizzard. Are there any doctors or nurses or EMTs here?”

  Several people raised their hands.

  Bobby said, “Please find out about injuries and treat them. I need you two large men in the back there to go into that thicket of evergreens and find a place where you can pull the tops of trees down in a long line and tie them down. Have the airline personnel tell you where there are ropes, electrical wire, whatever.”

  One of the two said, “Major, I am a scoutmaster and Order of the Arrow advisor. We’ll get it done! One giant lean-to coming up!”

  Bobby was pleased. The man’s background in scouting should make him quite capable of making an effective shelter for the entire group paying attention to wind direction, thickness of cover, and so on.

  Everybody divided themselves up and started rushing to accomplish the various tasks Bobby gave them.
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  Kennedy ran up, saying, “Major, if we can cut away the emergency ramp, wouldn’t that make an excellent tarp for us?”

  Bobby said, “Great, Corporal. You’re in charge of that. Maybe we can get the other emergency ramps, too. One could be set up as a giant reflector.”

  The passengers were very motivated and excited. Bobby had not let them even consider the possibility of perishing in a high mountain blizzard. They all worked diligently. Bo had checked for a sat phone, but not a single passenger had one, and no cell phones were working.

  Network news was already reporting that it was believed that the flight was taken over by terrorists and blown up over the Rocky Mountains somewhere. This had the President in a very angry state of mind. The original Mayday had been monitored or leaked by air traffic controllers and was now very much in the public domain. Network news teams were racing to try to secure passenger lists, bios on the flight crews, find out if celebrities were on the plane, and of course, do a complete breakdown of everything they could learn about Major Bobby Samuels and Captain Bo Devore. If possible, some of those TV and print news personnel were going to try to find out how many freckles Bobby and Bo had on their bodies, and see if there were any Peyton Place episodes lived out in their respective families.

  General Perry, now chief of staff of the U.S. army, would not have any of the gossip, passing it, or listening to it. He had dealt with the news too often. He would make his own decisions based on the most current intelligence from U.S. and military satellites, humintel, and USAF overflights and other electronics. He was also going to “personally kick the shit out of any sumbitch that gives information out about two army plainclothes detectives and endangers their lives, especially our two best ones.”

  The snow was still falling at two A.M. but the passengers who were hurt had been treated. A giant lean-to had been built with numerous small pines side by side, bent over, and tied to boulders on the ground with heavy-gauge electrical wire. All the passengers were fed by three who had worked as cooks, and one who was a gourmet chef on vacation from an upscale restaurant in Crystal City, a Washington suburb. Skin from the wings had been used to cover the bent-over trees and to set up a giant reflector. All the emergency chutes had been converted to giant ground cloths, and numerous small fires reflected plenty of heat throughout the giant shelter.

  Three people were having problems with altitude, and two of them were cardiac patients. So the doctor and EMTs were now trying to get them oxygen from the jet’s supply.

  Bobby and Bo were wearing rucksacks formed by tying the bottom of the pant legs on two pairs of jeans from the luggage, and then attaching them to the butt area. With the waistline of each pair as the top of each pack, rope was strung through the belt loops and pulled tight to close the packs. The packs contained ammunition for their nine-millimeters, bottles of water, a pair of binoculars and hunting knives from someone’s luggage, and extra clothes.

  The prisoner was left in Bobby Kennedy’s charge.

  Bo said to Major Samuels, “Bobby, why are we wearing packs? Are we going to try to make it to civilization?”

  Bobby said, “No, we would get killed. We’re going to try to hunt down some meat for all these people.”

  “Oh,” Bo said, but she suddenly felt a need to vomit.

  She must have eaten something that was really hitting her system. Her legs started shaking almost uncontrollably. Then diarrhea cramps hit her.

  Bo said, “Ooh, I have to go to the restroom. I’ll be back!”

  Bo ran into the darkness of the trees on the other side of the aircraft and vomited. She rubbed snow on her face and started calming herself down.

  She spoke to herself. “You are an army officer. Straighten up, Devore!”

  She pulled her shoulders back, knowing passengers might be counting on her and Bobby. She masked, something familiar to Bo for years, and walked back. The cramps had already subsided, but her heart was still pounding, and she simply decided to hold it together.

  Bobby was going to attempt to find any small herds of deer or harems of elk, holed up in the dark evergreens during the storm. He did not want to take a chance on how long the storm might last, and he wanted to insure there was fresh meat.

  He was concerned about Bo, but she returned smiling bravely.

  Bobby said, “You okay, partner?”

  Bo smiled broadly. “Yep, I’m fine.”

  Major Bobby Samuels was a detective and noticed everything. Bo’s glance went down and to her left, which he knew is what suspects do when they are lying, look down to their left. Bo was a very honest person, so it was even more obvious with her. He knew she was not fine. He would deal with it when he felt the time was right.

  “Have you ever hunted before?” he asked.

  Her eyes shifted down to her left as she replied, “No, never.”

  He said, “Do you have a problem with killing animals?”

  “Oh, no!” she replied eagerly, “Not at all. The Bible says that animals are here to serve us. I am fine, really.”

  He smiled softly and turned, walking into the blizzard.

  They had made it less than a mile, and Bo wondered how Bobby could ever find the plane again the snowfall was so blinding. Suddenly, he stopped, hand up, and she froze. She had no idea why he stopped, but she knew to trust him. Bobby turned slowly, and grabbed her gently by the arm, kneeling down. She looked where he pointed on the ground. There in the falling snow, now already barely discernible, were several large sets of prints that were like giant upside-down V’s and the size of a pony’s hoofprint. Snow had them almost covered already.

  Bobby put his mouth right up to her ear, pulled back the makeshift hat and muffs he had fashioned from somebody’s sweater, and whispered softly, “Elk right in front of us. Probably were stirred by the crash and are settling down now. They are walking and the wind is in our favor. It’s blowing towards us, and they travel with the wind blowing into their faces so they can smell danger first, so we are behind them. They have very large ears, eyes, and noses, so be very slow and careful. Hopefully, we will catch them bedded down. If we shoot at two, when I wave, count one thousand, two thousand, three thousand, and fire from the time my hand goes down. Aim low behind the left shoulder. If you miss the heart, you will hit the lung, and again, do double taps. I will point out which one to fire at if we see two at once. Okay?”

  She smiled at him and gave him the thumbs-up, and felt a chill down her back from his lips being so close to her ear. They moved on slowly, very slowly, Bobby directly in front. Bo just had no clue what was going on other than blinding, blowing snow.

  She saw everything get darker, and realized they were dropping into a deep bowl surrounded by tall trees, evergreens. The snow was somewhat shielded here. Bobby suddenly stopped and dropped silently into the snow. Bo followed suit. He turned and put his fingers to his lips. Inch by inch, they crawled forward, and suddenly she noticed the dark boulders in front of them were moving a little. There were about twenty elk, bedded down in the bowl, most under low-hanging tree branches. Bo’s heart started pounding in her neck and temples. They were now moving forward at the pace of wounded caterpillars.

  After ten minutes, Bobby crawled up behind a small snow-buried boulder with Bo directly behind him. He slowly moved and held his index finger up to his lips in a shushing gesture. With his hands, he indicated that there were two elk lying down close to them. She was to shoot the one on the right, and he, the left.

  Slowly, carefully, gun in hand, Bo crawled up next to Bobby, feeling her heart pounding hard in her temples and her ears. He nodded, and they both slowly rose, and Bo lost her breath. Lying directly in front of them, less than ten feet away, was a giant bull elk and a large cow. They looked to be as large as horses to Bo. She realized she was almost gasping, as she watched the giant breaths of warm steam coming from their noses, and both animals, apparently frozen in shock, stared intently at Bobby and Bo. Bobby’s finger went down, and she silently counted to herself, one th
ousand, two thousand, three thousand, as she centered her front sight just behind the cow’s left shoulder and down low. Boom! Boom! Both guns fired twice as one, and the bull jumped to his feet and fell back on his rump. Bo’s cow fell over sideways, her four mighty legs kicking out toward Bo as if running. She choked back a tear, feeling sorry for the animal, and put two more shots into the elk’s under-chest, aiming where she figured the heart must be. It lay still, one leg slowly twitching even after death.

  Bobby stood and walked forward and pumped four rounds into the struggling bull, and he lay still. Blood was everywhere on the new-fallen snow, and steam poured off the animals’ bodies. Bo’s knees almost gave way, and she wondered why she was rubbery-legged. She had faced death from a man shooting at her before, but this was different. Being a good cop, Bo masked well, but maybe Bobby just knew her well.

  He set his gun on the bull’s body and wrapped his arms protectively around Bo in a tender hug. She put her face on his massive chest and sobbed.

  Bobby said, “You okay, partner?”

  She wiped her tears, saying, “Sorry. I don’t understand. I’ve never hunted before.”

  Bobby wiped a tear, saying, “Bo, people who live in big cities and lobby against hunting have no clue about the beauty and majesty of wild animals like this. Most hunters do, but the antihunting lobby portrays them all as blood-thirsty, mindless killers. The fees from hunting licenses is what provides for most of the wilderness for them to live in, and most hunters hate to actually bring death to the animal, but it is a necessary part of the whole ordeal.”

  She said, “Bobby, I’m not against hunting. It just . . .”

  Bobby smiled. “You don’t need to explain. I understand. It will help to remind yourself we have a planeload of people in a mountain blizzard who may need this food to survive before we are rescued.”

  “I know,” she replied. “I don’t feel guilty, just feel bad for these two elk.”