1
“Where are we?” The plane was dark, with no aisle lights, and the air was smoky, with a bright metallic taste.
Mack elbowed Lucas, sprawled out in the next seat. Lucas had a purple welt across his forehead, and his orange-red hair looked a mess, draping his face like Raggedy Andy, and difficult to make out in the dark. He didn’t respond to the elbow.
Mack and Lucas were Arizona Lottery employees, chaperoning eighteen newly minted millionaires in first class to Carnival in Rio. They’d taken off from Caracas at three a.m., on the third leg of their flight. But now it was dead quiet, except for a loud whack in the back, followed by a lighter thump, repeated endlessly. There were no alarms, no cabin crew, and it was freezing cold.
Mack felt his forehead, finding a lump the size of a peach pit. “It smells like an electrical fire,” he said, coughing. He looked closely at Lucas’s pale face and bloodshot eyes. Probably in shock.
Lucas struggled to sit up. “Where’s my big book? You know the one I mean.” He looked around. “I’m worried now, mate.” He shook his head as though he were dizzy.
“Your millions-of-quotes book? Forget the unimportant stuff and find our hats. We have to look good when we’re rescued. Full uniform, you know.” Mack brushed a hand over his head, obviously feeling muddled.
“Unimportant to you, not me. Me mum gave me that book.”
Mack rolled his eyes. “Haven’t seen it. Don’t know where it is. Don’t care.” He felt as languid as silk, floating with no particular place to go.
Lucas looked so pole-axed that Mack felt sorry for him. “You might have dropped it on the floor and it slid somewhere when we…apparently crashed. There’s been a lot going on.”
Someone pounded on Mack’s shoulder with more force than necessary. “Ah, Mrs. Sherman. You can lay off now.”
Courtney Sherman, one of the eighteen winners, was as round as a cement mixer and twice as strong. Her hair looked like a wig, every strand the same flat black, and she wore a purple blouse under the straps of overalls she’d sown into a long denim skirt. She was looking forward to Carnival as a chance to convert sinners.
She leaned into Mack’s face. “Call me Courtney.”
“Just a second. I’ve got a problem here.” He turned back to Lucas. “Forget your big book. You couldn’t read in all this smoke anyway. And quotes are silly stuff.”
“Indeed,” said Lucas. “And I quote. ‘Be careful; with quotations you can damn anything.’”
“Yeah, and who said that?” demanded Mack.
“Who knows? I don’t.”
“You remember the quotes but you don’t remember who said it? That’s bizarre.”
Mack grimaced as Courtney bellowed. “You two listen up. Now’s the time to say our prayers. Ask the Lord Almighty to spare us, deliver us from this predicament. You’re supposed to be taking care of us and you haven’t done a thing.”
Lucas said, “Cut the religious claptrap—”
Mack held up a hand. “No, Lucas. Let Courtney be.” Mack turned to face Courtney, who reminded him of his mother. “I appreciate your concern, but the Arizona Lottery doesn’t take sides on religion. But I’d be happy to pray with you while Lucas assists the survivors.”
“That’s a firm negatory,” she snapped. “Lucas must also give thanks that we’re alive. Then we can tend to the others.”
“We have to check the cockpit, ma’am,” said Mack before turning to whisper at Lucas, “Don’t trash poor Courtney, you hear?” Then he continued as if he hadn’t interrupted himself. “We’ll come back and pray if you’d like.”
Courtney stood next to Mack with her hands pressed together, clogging the aisle. “Pray first. Time for clear thoughts and clean actions. And a mighty dose of prayer.”
Mack sighed, clasping his hands. “Dear Lord, keep us safe in our time of need. And help us get out of whatever mess we’re in. Amen.” He put his hands down. “Now, Courtney, we need to help the living. You could check out the whack-thump noise in the back, see what’s causing that.”
Courtney shook Mack’s shoulder. “Something’s really wrong in back.”
Mack unsnapped his seatbelt like he hadn’t thought of it before. “I haven’t seen the cabin crew since before the crash.”
Lucas frowned. “I don’t want to read it. But I want to make sure it’s still around. From me mum, you know.”
“Stop about the book already. Besides, you’re in America, now. Well, South America, I suppose.”
“Always was an American. Me mum says so. Even if Immigration doesn’t agree. Airplanes have always been trouble.” Lucas eyes were out of focus. He looked like an oversized kid.
“Get up.” Mack unsnapped Lucas’s belt, whipping the cloth cap with the seal of the Arizona Lottery from his back pocket and setting it on his head. He turned to Lucas. “Put your cap on.”
“Okay.” Lucas jumped up and slapped on his own cap. Lucas stood inches shorter than Courtney. Mack towered over both of them.
Mack said, “We’d better check the cockpit, see what’s going on up there. That’s where the flight attendants went, before we…landed.”
Courtney groaned. “We should all pray and then get everyone out of here. Something might blow up, like ourselves.”
“Spoken like a true leader yourself,” said Mack. “So why aren’t you helping the others? I’m sure Ellen is.”
“Who can deal with this mess?” She pointed at the back.
The cloud of green smoke smelled poisonous and the seats were cock-eyed. Crazy Peter, the wild blond guy, had barfed on the seat in front of him, purging the drinks they drank with abandon in first class from Phoenix to Miami to Caracas.
Mack sighed. “This is our job, Courtney. So, let’s find the crew.”
“Before whatever happened, they went up front, into the cockpit.” Lucas pointed.
“Yeah, I know that. Something funny with the cockpit door.” It was curved forty-five degrees, making the padding look like the inside of an egg. “Let’s check it out.”
Courtney vehemently shook her head. “But what about the others? We should attend to them first. And don’t you find the whack-thump noise rather worrisome?”
Mack waved away the smoke and gently took Courtney’s arm, the size of an eight-by-eight, steering her toward the nearest seat. He patted her shoulder. “You have to get out of the way so we can make sure everyone’s okay. Help Ellen or stay put until we need you,”
Just then Lucas ran by, ramming the cockpit door with his shoulder. “Oh, sheissarino.” He ricocheted backward, fluttering fingers padded with blisters. “Little hot up there. The outside door is the first priority, eh?”
“Whoa, the outside door it is.” Mack gave the circular lock a mighty twist, colossal tug, and magnificent jolt. Nothing.
“There’s a lock on these things. Right over here, on the underside of the doohickey.” Lucas clicked something, and with his left pointer finger twirled the handle, which slid into a groove. The door opened a crack and a torrent of wind tore Lucas’s cap off, pasting it against the opposite bulkhead. Lucas was right behind it, spread-eagled. The cockpit door turned pink in the hurricane of air.
Mack yelled, “Everyone out. No time left to screw around.” He shoved the door closed, watching Lucas collapse off the wall. “Fine acting.”
“I’ll deploy the chute.” Lucas punched at indentations, buttons, and whatever seemed handy. Still no chute. “Might be a big drop.” He pushed the door open a few inches and peered outside. The wind spread his bushy hair into a fantail. “I can’t see a damn thing in the dark. Could be a real worry, mate.”
“Brilliant. Get a big flashlight, a torch, and let’s see how it looks out there.”
“Here you go, young man.” Courtney shoved a flashlight in Mack’s face. “Anything else I can do to help, let me know.” She added, “I’ll pray for you both,” and bowed her head.
“Sure thing, Courtney.” Mack elbowed Lucas out of the way and aimed the flashlight through the crack, the wind so strong it seemed to blow the light back inside. Mack grimaced as he stared down, wind whipping his face. “About a ten-foot drop. Not that far.”
“Amen.” Courtney raised her head and swept toward the door.
“Wait a minute, Courtney.” Mack held up an arm, but she ignored it, kicking the door open and plopping down in the doorway. The plane gave a shudder and the whack-thump stopped for a second as the wind became a tornado inside the cabin.
Courtney jumped out and crunched on the ground with a splash. At her unearthly screech, Mack shined the flash down. “Are you okay, Courtney?”
“That’s a hearty negativo, son.” She leaned on ham-like legs, wallowing in a mud puddle as the wind blew her into the shape of a forty-five-degree butterball.
“Okay. Who’s next?” asked Mack as another millionaire walked up.
“Ready, sir,” said James Dean. “But I need my hat. I’m uncomfortable without it, naked, like an undressed deer in season.”
“I can identify with that. You help Courtney out of the puddle and we’ll look for your hat, and our formal ones too.”
During the nationally broadcast lottery drawing, James had imitated his namesake from an old movie called Giant and the performance had gone viral. They had to find their official hats because Mack considered them critical to establishing credentials with the locals.
Mack poked James, who jumped cleanly out the door, fortunately landing clear of Courtney.
Mack flashed the light on James, who walked in a precarious tilt around Courtney, trying to see which way she was facing. She looked pretty much the same from any direction.
“Next,” said Mack as Lucas pushed two large bundles in his face. “What’s this?”
“Supplies. We need more liquor and pillows, blankets, food, and water too.”
“We have to get our people off first, and then worry about necessities.” Mack crushed the gray cap into his back pocket.
“I’m next,” yelled Ef. Everyone knew Ef. He’d collared them all, trying to sell property on the furthest outskirts of Phoenix, where it might grow in a millennium. He was jumping up and down like an elevator, similar to his shoes. “Gotta get someone on the ground with management skills. Someone has to organize this disaster.” Ef selling himself long.
“Ladies and children first,” said Lucas. “Or can I interest you in desert scrub, hold the utilities?”
“Just trying to help.” Ef stood on his tiptoes. “Aim the flashlight so I know where to jump.”
“Go ahead.” Lucas bobbed the light over the little group below. Ef grasped the edge with his hands, hanging indecisively. Lucas stepped on his fingers.
“Aheeeee—” Ef plummeted into the puddle. He faced off with Courtney as she ransacked the bundles of supplies James had failed to guard.
“Whoosh.” The door to the cockpit flared and the other dozen plus millionaires, along with Mack and Lucas, jumped out the door. They fled the puddle to the shelter of strangely shaped rocks. Lucas and Mack adjusted their uniforms and slapped on the cloth garrison hats the airline had made them wear instead of their formal hats. The airline didn’t want them mistaken for someone important like a pilot.
Light flickered from the door of the plane, subsiding, then expanding. Mack pushed Lucas. “Get back up there and see what’s happening.”
“Go yourself.” Lucas clicked the rapidly dimming flashlight on the scene around them. Blond Peter was trying to rollick and roll as if party mode still ruled. But he couldn’t compete with the vicious wind. He ran down like a wind-up toy with a tired spring, and his good buddy Chuck was nowhere to be seen. The two of them had celebrated on the flight like Siamese twins. Only seventeen lottery millionaires were left.
Ef was organizing, but it was difficult to tell what. Ellen consoled the bereaved, which included everyone. And Mack stood in awe, distracted by Ellen.
Courtney lectured James that alcohol was not allowed in their new residence, though no one had a clue where that residence was. But it definitely wasn’t Rio.
The rest milled around, awaiting Mack’s orders, surrounded by hundreds of pinnacles, boulders, and glistening puddles of water that smelled like rotten fruit.
Mack held up his arms. “Listen up. We don’t know what caused the crash, but the plane could catch fire at any moment. Lucas will take you to safer ground. Lucas, show the kind people where to go.
“Then I need volunteers to go back on the plane to find available supplies and see whether there are other survivors. We’ll try getting to the luggage before the plane explodes or burns.” The gangway above them belched a single puff of smoke. “Now men, we’re going back in. Volunteers?”
Lucas shone the light on the faces around him. Zero to none volunteered. “You’ll have to call the names of volunteers.”
Mack said, “Mr. Peter Vittorio, Mr. James Dean, Mr. Roy Jacobowitz, and Mr. Barry McCafferty. Front and center, report for duty.” He motioned Lucas to turn the spotlight on the plane as irresistible Ellen stalked forward.
She said, “Now look here, Mr. Steward.”
Mack practically stuttered. “I’m not a steward. I’m simply irresistible, make that irresponsible. What I mean is, for some unfathomable reason, I’m responsible for your welfare. So, take care of these poor souls while we try to gather food and look for other survivors.”
“No siree, your list of volunteers is sexist. You have no women at all. You must include me. Or,” Ellen indicated Molly and Betty, “at least one of us.”
The others looked elsewhere as Nick, the Serbian Orthodox priest said, “‘Adam was deceived by Eve, not Eve by Adam—it is right that he whom that woman induced to sin should assume the guide lest he fall again through feminine instability.’”
Lucas turned the light on Ellen as she, completely out of character, forwarded a finger signal at Nick.
Mack’s heart melted at the sight of Ellen in the harsh light, her filmy blouse caressing the curves above her swirly linen skirt. Then a corner of the plane caught his eye and he understood the whack-thump. “Shine it over there.”
A collective gasp escaped the group as the pale light traced the outline of the small part of the plane’s rear they could see. They had landed on the edge of a sheer cliff, breaking off the rear two-thirds of the plane. A strip of metal held the back thumping against the cliff face. It wouldn’t last long.
Ellen put a hand to her throat. “That’s the coach section. They’re doomed unless we save them.”
Mack sighed. “We’ll do our best. You continue tending the only flock we know is still among the living.”
Lucas swung the torch toward the gangway as the whack-thump intensified.
“Well, Okay. Anything to avoid feminine instability.” Ellen helped gather the rest of the group as the men circled Mack.
Mack said, “We’ll rescue everyone we can. Then gather food, water, and blankets, and find a way into the luggage compartment. It’s going to be chilly, wherever it is we’re at.”
“Going to be, hell.” Lucas shivered. “It’s already colder than the outback in a blizzard.”
They shivered as the gale tore at their clothes, and queued up behind Mack and Lucas.
Mack stared, trying to decide whether the light came from the glowing cockpit.
“Looks like a reflection,” said Lucas.
“We’ll boost you up so you can make sure.”
“Boost me how? It must be fifteen feet straight up.”
“It’s more like ten or twelve. I need athletic volunteers. James, Barry, and Roy.”
“Yeah, and what about me?” Peter illustrated his athletic ability by executing a half-assed cartwheel.
“You did better when you won the lottery.”
Peter glanced at Roy. “Guess I’ve gone downhill since.”
“James, Barry, and Roy. Make a pyramid so Lucas can climb into the plane. We’ve got to stop screwing around. We don’t have enough food or blankets, and someone might be alive in coach.”
James and Barry hit the ground, side by side, and big clunky Roy climbed on their backs. They shook in the wind as Lucas scrambled over their backs onto Roy. Lucas clutched the door frame.
“Gotta get you in shape, sailor. You’re not doing too good.”
Lucas pulled himself up. “We may have five minutes. The cockpit door is black, and the whack-thump has changed.” It had sped up, as if the equilibrium had shifted.
Lucas raced around the smoky front section, ripping off curtains. He tied five together and looped them around the seat nearest the door. “Come on up, guys. And hurry because it’s getting hotter up here.”
The entire group made it, standing in the doorway staring, none venturing forward. “To the rear,” said Lucas.
The others looked at Mack, who pointed. “To the rear.”
They tiptoed until they stood next to the whack-thump, which was receding. Mack ripped the curtains from the doorway, revealing the glow of a false dawn.
“Good view, eh?” Lucas stared.
Mack could make out faint terrain, which must have been a vertical mile below them. The light was too dim to see.
“Down there.” Lucas pointed and everyone peered over the edge, looking at the mass in the bottom of economy class. It was so dark no one could see the bottom, whack-thumping away.
“The tail may pull the plane over.” Mack beckoned them away from the precipice. “Get as much food and blankets as you can and let’s get out of here. Maybe the luggage is in the level part of the plane.”
“Chuck might be down there,” said Peter.
Lucas said, “We have to see if there’s anyone left to rescue.” At their incredulous he said, “Someone could be alive.”
Everyone stared except Lucas, who said, “Come on, gentlemen. Where’s your compassion?”
“I agree,” said Peter. “Chuck has to be down there. I can’t think of where he would have gone, otherwise.”
Mack nodded. “You’re right, so let’s do it. We’d never forgive ourselves if we didn’t.”
Lucas was pale. “Yeah, if there’s any of us left to forgive. But then, it was my idea. Not to worry.”
Mack gestured to hurry up. “Grab as many curtains as you can and we’ll loop them together.” In a few seconds they’d made a lumpy gray rope, Peter on his stomach feeding it over the edge, into the void.
“Just there. Flip it this way.” Lucas jerked it to the left, snaking the end onto the mass below. “Where’s the light? Shine it down there.”
Roy found a halogen light, which Mack aimed below. He flicked the switch on, and just as rapidly off. “Enough of that. You saw the carnage. No one survived.”
“Yeah.” Lucas untied and dropped the end of the loop as he hopped up. “Got to get all the supplies we can find.”
“Don’t forget my hat,” said James.
“Don’t worry. We’ll take everything important.” Mack walked down the aisle, flipping open overhead bins. “Toss the stuff out and we’ll ransack the galley.”
“Hey, look at this.” Barry brandished a fire ax. “This might come in handy.”
“Toss it with the rest and let’s get a move on. You guys hit the galley. Take everything you can grab and don’t worry about what’s what. Time’s getting short.”
“Amen to that,” said Lucas.
“And look what I found. Our dress hats.” Mack whipped his on and tossed the other to Lucas, the hat changing Lucas into an authority figure in his gray pinstripe suit, the regulation uniform for the chaperones of the new millionaires. “AL,” the logo of the Arizona Lottery, was embroidered like scrambled eggs on a pilot-style hat.
“Lookin’ good.” Mack flipped the hat over his bald spot. “But we have to get moving. Toss that stuff down. Good job. Where’d you get that great coil of rope? There must be several hundred feet.”
Within minutes they’d vaulted out of the plane, moving piles toward the rest of the group.
“Front and center.” Mack beckoned them together. “We’ve gotten everything we can find. Now, same volunteers to look for the luggage compartment.”
“Any survivors?” Nick held pale Mary tight.
“We’re it. Now the luggage.”
“That’s a big negatory, Mr. Mack,” said Courtney. “You have no moral leadership. I’ve once again had to cull legions of liquor from your leavings.” She gestured at jagged miniature booze bottles lined up like fractured crystal.
Mack looked her up and down, from brown brogans to the mud covering the bottom of her tent-like dress. “Actually, a pository, Courtney. If you’re running out of things to do, you can help Miss Ellen here.” Mack avoided staring at Ellen. “You can join our expedition if you’d like.”
“No. I’ll stay here and do housewifey things. You big brawny men go ahead and keep us poor damsels safe from distress. We’re counting on you.”
“If I knew you better, I’d think that was sarcastic.”
Ellen turned her back. “No need to know me better, sir.”
Mack grabbed the fire ax. “They loaded the luggage on the other side. Same group, Roy, Barry, Peter, and James.” Mack led them between spiky rocks and around a dimly seen granite pinnacle that hid the nose of the plane. The glow of false dawn would turn to sunrise in a few minutes.
“My god, look at that,” gasped Lucas. “There’s a fancy face on top of the hill. You ever seen anything like it?”
“Luggage first.” Mack brandished the ax like a Viking. They staggered around the towering pinnacle and ducked in front of the plane, partly sheltered from the wind. Benny and Peter gushed noteworthy obscenities at the end of the procession.
“Stop.” Mack held up a hand. His neck prickled like he was in a haunted house.
Lucas fingered the side of the plane. “The luggage compartment might be here.” The wind seemed to be dying.
“I’ll get it.” Mack swung the ax with all his might. It ricocheted, almost smacking him in the forehead. “Whew. We’ll have less of that,” dropping the ax. He looked over their entourage. Peter was a flake and James would be lost without his hat. Roy was an eternal pessimist, but he was rough and ready, a big, amiable, and perpetually fucked up sailor who couldn’t stand being called a yachtsman. And Barry, ex-Tennessee state trooper, retired as a private eye in Sun City West. “What do you think, Roy?”
Roy said what he always said, dramatic and simple. He slashed the air with his hand. “Everything’s going downhill.”
“Thought so. Take this.” Mack handed the ax to Barry. “Bust in the side of the plane. That might be the luggage compartment.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Mack.” Barry grabbed the ax and slammed it against the seam. The ax bit into the crack before spinning through the air, bouncing off rocks like a pebble off water, disappearing into the curious vegetation they could begin to see around them.
“Enough of that,” said Lucas. “Let’s see what’s on top of the hill.”
Barry said, “No. Let’s find the ax, put it back together, and try again. It’s light enough to find it now.”
“You’re overruled,” yelled Lucas as they followed Mack around the crumpled nose of the plane. Barry was last seen rummaging in the foliage.
Mack climbed around the blackened windshield of the plane, trying to peer through the glass, but he couldn’t see a thing. “So, where and what was the big deal you saw, anyway?”
“Further around, on top of the rocky knob. The one with the—wow. There’s a big gold umbrella beside it—” They caught a gleam of the rising sun on a golden statue towering above a canopy that must have knocked over by the plane.
Ef, the shyster real estate salesman, sidled over. “I hope we didn’t ruin anything important.” He salivated as he dashed to touch the statue. “It must be worth a fortune.” He wiped a hand across the highest part he could reach. “What is it, anyway?”
He stepped back, which they all did in unison, taking in the grandeur of the golden figure.
“Well, it looks like that big old stag in Bambi, when he reared up during the forest fire? That old movie, you remember, eh?” Lucas couldn’t understand the lack of reaction.
“You just wiped his dick,” said Mack.
Ef jumped back and looked the golden thing up, down, and sideways. “I didn’t know he was standing on his hind legs or I would’ve been more careful. I don’t want to touch nothing like that, even if it’s golden.”
Barry ran up, excited. “I found the ax.” He looked up at the towering statue and tucked the ax in his back pocket.
Lucas cocked his head. “So, what do you think it is?”
“Classic sculpture in metal precioso,” said Madison, the new millionaire poet. “Make a fortune fabuloso. Inspired it me and also thee, I see.”
The group had fallen silent, wondering what the bloody hell this thing could be, way out in the boondocks. They were beyond where civilization could pretend to exist, outside the United States of America.
Barry scanned it. “I, for one, like it a lot. It has a certain flavor.”
“And the flavor is gold. We’re rich.” Ef rubbed his hands.
Mack shook his head. “You’re already rich. This is not the frosting on your cake. The statue seems sinister to me.”
Roy was sober. “Everything’s going downhill. And we should too.” The blazing lip of the sun was about to appear on fluted rock spirals at the edge of a vast mesa.
Strange creatures of the night seemed to float in the ether at that exact spot, shimmering through a hazy fog.
James said, “It’s not a horse. It’s like a big poodle, except for the horns, all dressed up to go to market. I particularly like the little shoes.”
Roy squinted, then pointed. “There’s more than just this statue.” For the first time in his life, Roy was stricken sober.
“Bloody hell.” Lucas was stunned. “Let’s get back to the group. We have to protect them or something.”
“Oh, for Chrissakes,” said Mack. “It’s a bunch of aliens that look like the statue. We need a plan.” It hit him that he was mistaken. Human history boiled down to this second, with no time to make a plan.
“Jumping Josephat. They’re like blimey kangaroos. A second ago, they were a mile away and now they’re practically on top of us.”
“They gallop nicely on their hind legs.” Benny, the new millionaire horseman, was in awe. “Saw off the horns, get rid of the funny clothes. They’d win going away.”
“We’re going away.” Mack straightened his hat and signaled Lucas to do the same. But it was too late.
