Read Online Weapon of Atlantis by Christopher David Petersen - Free Book Online
Authors: Christopher David Petersen
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at the cliff face now less than a quarter mile in front of them. Fear overwhelmed him as he estimated their altitude at only two hundred feet above the rocky face.
“Sir, I don’t think we’re going to make it?” he said, in fearful tone.
Col. Slatz didn’t answer. He stared at the cliff’s edge rushing up toward him. As he watched the plane line up perpendicular to the land, he stomped on the opposite controls. Instantly, the plane snapped to level flight.
“ BIRDS! ” Capt. Jørgensen cried out again.
“Hang on. It’s going to get rough,” Col. Slatz shouted back.
The plane slammed into the wall of birds once more, the impact severely denting and contorting the control surfaces. Col. Slatz struggled with the rudders and control column, fighting to keep the plane level. With his eyes darting from land to instruments and back again, he watched in horror as the plane’s altitude now slipped below the top of the cliff.
“Sir, we’re going to hit the rocks!” Capt. Jørgensen shouted.
Col. Slatz glanced at his airspeed. Critically low, he knew any further decline would cause the wings to lose lift and stall. He hauled back on the control yoke, momentarily r aising the nose. As the edge of the cliff rushed toward them, the plane climbed slightly. Instantly, the airspeed fell. Mere yards from impact, the wings stalled. With several feet to spare, they crossed over into land as the nose dropped and impacted the ground.
Loud and jarring, the plane bounced and pounded the snowy surface as it thundered across the flat plateau. The inhabitants clung to their restraints, their bodies violently shaking inside their seats. Sheets of metal cracked and tore from the belly of the plane, creating cavernous holes for snow and ice to enter. The wings flexed and bent, nearly detaching as their tips caught on variations in the landscape. Frightening and chaotic, the destruction continued unabated.
Col. Slatz gripped the now useless control column and worked the rudders in a last desperate act to save them all. As the plane rushed along the icy surface, he watched the airspeed quickly slow. A hundred feet ahead, an abrupt six-foot ridge stood across their path. He pulled the control yoke far back against his chest and held on. The nose rose slightly. Seconds later, the fuselage slammed into the wall of ice, tearing off the wings and splitting the plane in two.
As the nose section continued on, the rear of the plane imbedded in the ice and snow and abruptly stopped. Seconds later, the nose lost all its forward momentum and c ame to rest fifty feet away.
In the moments after the crash, only the sound of the lonely winds broke the eerie silence inside the plane.
Jack sat dazed and stared out the open view of the missing cockpit. He felt the cold winds nip at his face, snapping him back to reality. Slowly, he looked to the men beside him. All three were shaken, but alive. He peered through the wires and debris that hung from the outer frame of the fuselage and watched in shock and horror as Col. Slatz carefully pulled Capt. Jørgensen’s body from the crumpled nose section, far out in front of him. He breathed a sigh of relief to see the captain’s arms move voluntarily.
“Jack, you alright,” came a familiar voice.
Jack turned to his right. Bleeding but conscious, Javi stared back at him with great concern.
“I think I’m all right. No broken bones,” he said simply. “How about you? You’re bleeding.”
Javi wiped his hand across the side of his head and felt the cut that oozed a small amount of blood. He brought his hand to his eyes and stared a moment, then turned to Jack.
“If this is the extent of my injuries, I ’ll consider myself very lucky,” he responded, greatly relieved.
Jack heard the metallic sound of a safety restrained being unfastened. Turning, he watched Lt. Jarvis slowly work his way out of his seat. On the opposite side of the plane, Lt. Samuelson did the same. Even before the four could
“Sir, I don’t think we’re going to make it?” he said, in fearful tone.
Col. Slatz didn’t answer. He stared at the cliff’s edge rushing up toward him. As he watched the plane line up perpendicular to the land, he stomped on the opposite controls. Instantly, the plane snapped to level flight.
“ BIRDS! ” Capt. Jørgensen cried out again.
“Hang on. It’s going to get rough,” Col. Slatz shouted back.
The plane slammed into the wall of birds once more, the impact severely denting and contorting the control surfaces. Col. Slatz struggled with the rudders and control column, fighting to keep the plane level. With his eyes darting from land to instruments and back again, he watched in horror as the plane’s altitude now slipped below the top of the cliff.
“Sir, we’re going to hit the rocks!” Capt. Jørgensen shouted.
Col. Slatz glanced at his airspeed. Critically low, he knew any further decline would cause the wings to lose lift and stall. He hauled back on the control yoke, momentarily r aising the nose. As the edge of the cliff rushed toward them, the plane climbed slightly. Instantly, the airspeed fell. Mere yards from impact, the wings stalled. With several feet to spare, they crossed over into land as the nose dropped and impacted the ground.
Loud and jarring, the plane bounced and pounded the snowy surface as it thundered across the flat plateau. The inhabitants clung to their restraints, their bodies violently shaking inside their seats. Sheets of metal cracked and tore from the belly of the plane, creating cavernous holes for snow and ice to enter. The wings flexed and bent, nearly detaching as their tips caught on variations in the landscape. Frightening and chaotic, the destruction continued unabated.
Col. Slatz gripped the now useless control column and worked the rudders in a last desperate act to save them all. As the plane rushed along the icy surface, he watched the airspeed quickly slow. A hundred feet ahead, an abrupt six-foot ridge stood across their path. He pulled the control yoke far back against his chest and held on. The nose rose slightly. Seconds later, the fuselage slammed into the wall of ice, tearing off the wings and splitting the plane in two.
As the nose section continued on, the rear of the plane imbedded in the ice and snow and abruptly stopped. Seconds later, the nose lost all its forward momentum and c ame to rest fifty feet away.
In the moments after the crash, only the sound of the lonely winds broke the eerie silence inside the plane.
Jack sat dazed and stared out the open view of the missing cockpit. He felt the cold winds nip at his face, snapping him back to reality. Slowly, he looked to the men beside him. All three were shaken, but alive. He peered through the wires and debris that hung from the outer frame of the fuselage and watched in shock and horror as Col. Slatz carefully pulled Capt. Jørgensen’s body from the crumpled nose section, far out in front of him. He breathed a sigh of relief to see the captain’s arms move voluntarily.
“Jack, you alright,” came a familiar voice.
Jack turned to his right. Bleeding but conscious, Javi stared back at him with great concern.
“I think I’m all right. No broken bones,” he said simply. “How about you? You’re bleeding.”
Javi wiped his hand across the side of his head and felt the cut that oozed a small amount of blood. He brought his hand to his eyes and stared a moment, then turned to Jack.
“If this is the extent of my injuries, I ’ll consider myself very lucky,” he responded, greatly relieved.
Jack heard the metallic sound of a safety restrained being unfastened. Turning, he watched Lt. Jarvis slowly work his way out of his seat. On the opposite side of the plane, Lt. Samuelson did the same. Even before the four could
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