Left Behind: A Novel Of Earth's Last Days Read Online Free PDF Page B

to walk all the way. All remaining personnel had been called in to serve, but they were busy directing planes to safe areas. The few buses and vans were reserved for the handicapped, elderly, and flight crews. Rayford passed the word along that his crew would be walking.
    Passengers reported that they had been unable to get through on the in-flight phones. Hattie Durham told Rayford that one enterprising passenger in first class had somehow hooked up the phone to his computer, and while he composed messages it was automatically dialing and redialing New York. If a line opened, this would be the guy who got through.

    By the time the plane began its descent into Chicago, Buck had been able to squeeze onto only one briefly freed-up line to his computer service, which prompted him to download his waiting mail. This came just as Hattie announced that all electronic devices must be turned off.
    With an acumen he didn’t realize he possessed, Buck speed-tapped the keys that retrieved and filed all his messages, downloaded them, and backed him out of the linkup in seconds. Just when his machine might have interfered with flight communications, he was off-line and would have to wait to search his files for news from friends, coworkers, relatives, anyone.
    Before her last-minute preparations for landing, Hattie hurried to Buck. “Anything?” He shook his head apologetically. “Thanks for trying,” she said. And she began to weep.
    He reached for her wrist. “Hattie, we’re all going to go home and cry today. But hang in there. Get your passengers off the plane, and you can at least feel good about that.”
    “Mr. Williams,” she sobbed, “you know we lost several old people, but not all of them. And we lost several middle-aged people, but not all of them. And we lost several people your age and my age, but not all of them. We even lost some teenagers.”
    He stared at her. What was she driving at?
    “Sir, we lost every child and baby on this plane.”
    “How many were there?”
    “More than a dozen. But all of them! Not one was left.”
    The man next to Buck roused and, squinted at the late morning sun burning through the window. “What in blazes are you two talking about?” he said.
    “We’re about to land in Chicago,” Hattie said. “I’ve got to run.”
    “Chicago?”
    “You don’t want to know,” Buck said.
    The man nearly sat in Buck’s lap to get a look out the window, his boozy breath enveloping Buck. “What, are we at war? Riots? What?”

    Having just cut through the cloud bank, the plane allowed passengers a view of the Chicago area. Smoke. Fire. Cars off the road and smashed into each other and guardrails. Planes in pieces on the ground. Emergency vehicles, lights flashing, picking their way around the debris.
    As O’Hare came into view, it was clear no one was going anywhere soon. There were planes as far as the eye could see, some crashed and burning, the others grid locked in between vehicles toward the terminal. The expressways that led to the airport looked like they had during the great Chicago blizzards, only without the snow.
    Cranes and wreckers were trying to clear a path through the front of the terminal so cars could get in and out, but that would take hours, if not days. A snake of humanity wended its way slowly out of the great terminal buildings, between the motionless cars, and onto the ramps. People walking, walking, walking, looking for a cab or a limo. Buck began plotting how he would beat the new system. Somehow, he had to get moving and get out of such a congested area. The problem was, his goal was to get to a worse one: New York.
    “Ladies and gentlemen,” Rayford announced, “I want to thank you again for your cooperation today. We’ve been asked to put down on the only runway that will take this size plane and then to taxi to an open area about two miles from the terminal. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to use our inflatable emergency chutes, because we