Prologue April SIX-YEAR-OLD Chris Weaver dragged his mother, Abby, through the crowd, frantic to find the perfect spot to set up their chairs and watch his father die on the runway in front of them. The little boy had no way of knowing that's what he would do this morning and while a crash was always a faint possibility in the mind of every wife of every pilot since the inception of aviation, Abby was joyfully oblivious to the looming disaster as well. Both of them laughed as they darted between people, completely unaware that today would scar their lives forever, charring the future like Napalm blazing through the jungle. Abby wore a small backpack and had a lawn chair draped over one arm. The other was fully outstretched, gripping Chris's T-shirt in her fist as she struggled to keep up with him. He plunged ahead of her, both his hands gripping the Blue Raspberry Icee he'd had to have as soon as he'd spotted the huge display over the crowded booth. The Air Show was the largest annual event hosted by Cherry Point and, from the endless sea of people Abby waded through on the tarmac, she thought it looked like they'd break a record this year. There were parents and children as far as she could see, many carrying flags and airplanes on a stick. Others munched on hamburgers or hot pretzels as they walked. She grinned every time she caught a glimpse of the fine white funnel cake sugar clinging to lips and clothing. Funnel cakes were her weakness but it felt like that was the only booth they hadn't stopped at yet. After standing in line at the inflatable Moonwalk and again at the Icee booth, Abby had almost said no to another fifteen minute wait at the Balloon Typhoon, but the wide-eyed anticipation on Chris's face froze the word in her mouth. She'd watched him stretching and jumping with dozens of other children to grasp the balloons that were just out of reach. When he'd proudly emerged with three floating above his head, Abby knew it had been worth it, but she'd had no patience left to stand in the long line for her funnel cake. "This looks like a good place to watch Daddy," Abby said as she set up her chair and dropped into it. "I can't wait! Is it almost time?" Chris asked. He set his drink on the ground next to his mom's chair before jumping into her lap, settling in comfortably and tilting his head as far back as he could to stare at the sky, hoping to be first to catch a glimpse of his dad's plane. Major Danny Weaver, Abby's husband, was the pilot flying the Harrier demonstration. The Harrier is a jet, but it also functions in many ways similar to a helicopter. The versatility of vertical landings and extreme speed is what makes it such a captivating sight when the aircraft stops overhead, hovers and descends straight to the ground. It looks almost futuristic when from a mid-air dead stop, it catapults forward, speeding away with ear shattering force. Chris had seen his father's flight demonstration before but was too young to have had much appreciation for it. Now, he was enthralled with all things related to flight and couldn't wait to see his dad and tell his entire class about it on Monday. "Hey, Abby! I can't believe we found you guys in this crowd." Fran McAllister trailed behind her seven year old son, Justin, and looked as frazzled as Abby felt. "I feel like a pack mule for His Highness here," she said, setting up her folding chair next to Abby's and sinking into it, still balancing a large paper plate on one hand. Chris jumped off Abby's lap and he and Justin dropped, cross-legged to the ground in front of their mother's chairs. Both boys' mouths hung wide open as they watched The Golden Knights, the Army parachute team, plummet through the air, popping their parachutes only at the last possible moment. Chris punched Justin's arm and yelled, "Did you see that?" "That was the coolest," Justin agreed before taking a giant bite of the hot dog clutched in his hand. Abby looked longingly at Fran's plate. "Please tell me you're willing to share just a bite of your funnel cake." Fran plucked a large piece off and passed the plate to Abby. "Help yourself." "You're a true friend," Abby said, snagging a big hunk before Fran could change her mind. She'd barely started to chew when the Harrier appeared near the horizon. "I think that's Daddy!" Chris squinted until his eyes were tight lines but could barely see the spot his mom pointed out to him. It got larger as he watched and he proudly told everyone in earshot, "That's my Dad! That's my Dad!" The crowd gasped as Danny flew loops and rolls before decelerating into a hover and coming to a stop seventy or eighty feet above the runway. Abby had seen the show so many times she knew exactly what he would do and when he would do it. She even had his timing down almost perfectly. She knew he'd bring the plane all the way to the runway and remain there for several seconds before doing a vertical take-off and speeding away from his astonished audience. This hover was longer than usual, long enough, in fact, that she began to count the seconds in her head. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, she ticked off, all the while mentally instructing Danny to bring the plane down. It's past time, wheels to the pavement, lower it, lower it. She pushed out of her chair, her eyes riveted on the plane, shielded from the sun's glare with the palm of her hand. Her stomach twisted like a tightly wrung dishrag. Every nerve howled that Danny was in trouble and even as her heart prayed she was wrong, a wave of overwhelming fear threatened to drop her to her knees. When the plane pitched further than she had ever seen it, her denial melted. The crowd, too, sensed a problem, their awed silence replaced with questioning murmurs. People withdrew from the flight line, backing away, unconsciously knowing they needed to put distance between themselves and the plane. Even as their movement gained momentum, every eye remained glued to the disaster unfolding in front of them. Chris and Justin felt the fear and looked up at their mothers. Fran grabbed Justin's hand. "Abby, what's going on?" "I don't know," she said, unable to look away for even a moment. The aircraft dipped and lurched and dipped again, and still Abby stood, paralyzed, willing it to land safely. Her heart pounded so hard, she felt the blood pulse in her ears. Her throat closed, choking her as she watched the plane plunge nose first straight toward the ground. She heard the screams around her, felt the panic of the crowd and knew she should move but couldn't. Fran pushed her and yelled at her to run even as she snatched up Justin and backed away. Abby's mind registered every detail but her body didn't respond. No, no, no! repeated in her brain and it wasn't until she heard Chris ask what was happening that she realized she was actually screaming. Her son's voice jarred her into motion. As she reached to pick him up, she saw Nick Corbett grab him yelling, "I've got Chris, Abby! Run!" He turned the boys face into his chest and grabbed Abby's hand, hauling her behind him as he ran. People fled in every direction, stumbling and falling in an effort to escape. Children, separated from their parents in the crush of people, wailed. Panicked cries for mom and dad echoed all over the fight line. The explosion at impact shook the pavement beneath them and the heat from the mushrooming fireball enveloped the crowd, scattering debris and burning jet fuel as it grew. Abby saw fear and panic in the cut and bloodied faces running past her. Smoke filled her nostrils and seared her eyes. She tried to focus on Chris in Nick's arms, knowing she had to keep up, had to stay with them. But Chris should be in Danny's arms, not Nick's. It should be Danny pulling her along. Praying for a miracle, telling herself he ejected in time and was safe, she turned back longing to see Danny in his chute drifting safely away from the crash. The devastation behind her shattered any hope she had left. No one could have survived that inferno. She saw the flaming metal coming straight at them too late. Nick must have spotted it seconds before she did because the last thing she remembered was him throwing her to the ground and covering her body and Chris's with his own. Excerpted from Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines: Murder at Cherry Point by Deborah Wallis All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
