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"Something's Wrong"
Paola Chu had just finished the beverage service and had secured the carts when the "fasten seat belt" sign flashed on. The cabin boss up front called on the service phone and told the flight attendants to take a seat. Paola knew then that the weather was rough. A lighted seat belt sign normally applied only to passengers. She and her partner took jump seats next to the back door. Unconcerned, Paola checked her makeup in a pocket mirror, expertly applying pink lipstick as the plane bounced and rocked.
The turbulence increased, and the plane shook violently. Then there was a stomach-churning drop. "Oh, my God, my God!" cried Diana Vivas. She grabbed her husband's arm. "It's okay," he said. "It happens all the time." But Gabriel was nervous too. Out the window he saw treetops. Thank God, we're almost down, he thought.
Behind them, Gabriel's nieces were screaming. The plane was bouncing like a ball.
White-faced and gripping the armrest, Monica turned to William. "This isn't right," she said. "Something's wrong."
By now, even Paola was worried. The plane was dropping five stories, slamming to a stop, then plunging another five stories. Paola couldn't see out the window, but she heard the engines revving loudly, the way they do when a pilot is trying to correct for a landing. She could hear hailstones on the windows.
The plane was out of control, rocking, shaking, hurtling downward. The lights in the cabin flickered out. Paola heard a rapid-fire rat-tat-tat like a stick run against a picket fence -- tree limbs at the window!
The aircraft shredded its way through a swath of thick rain forest canopy, then slammed to the ground, breaking in half.
In front of Gabriel, seats flew into the air. Oxygen masks popped from overhead. I'll never see my kids again, thought Diana. Gabriel, thrown forward in his seat, felt a gust of heat on his face, as if someone had opened a furnace. He looked up and saw an orange fireball burst in front of him.
"I can't get my seat belt off!" Diana screamed. The plane was in pandemonium, the aisles dark and filling with thick smoke. Passengers sprang from their seats, surging into the aisle. Their screams added to the confusion. In one swift motion, Gabriel grabbed Diana by the arm, loosened her belt and grabbed his niece Jharline. "C'mon, move!" he cried, pushing them down the aisle ahead of him. Behind him, he heard a cry: "Ayuda! Ayuda!" A Peruvian woman, trapped by her belt, called for help in Spanish. Gabriel turned back to free her, put her in front of him and said, "Go, go, go."
The smoke was so dense, nobody could see. Some passengers from the front of the plane had struggled down the aisle and were jumping out through the breach at mid-aircraft.
William and Monica were out of their seats. Monica was moving toward the nearest exit, two rows ahead. "No!" William shouted. "Through the back!" This contradicted the safety instructions he'd read, but he knew in his gut he was right. The front part of the plane was burning. William pushed his wife toward the rear. As a firefighter, he knew most flight fatalities come from victims inhaling hot, toxic gases. Deliberately, he covered his wife's face with his hands.
Paola Chu had been knocked unconscious near the exit at the rear. She woke on the floor of the galley with an excruciating headache, bleeding from a gash in her forehead. The door had burst open on impact, and passengers trampled over her in their rush to get out. Now she struggled to her feet, forcing herself to remember what she'd learned in training: You have just 90 seconds to get the passengers off before the plane explodes.
The exit was now blocked with flames. Paola scrambled to the second rear exit and struggled with the handle. It was stuck. A slight and petite woman, she leaned into it, using all her shoulder, arm and leg strength. She couldn't budge the door. "Help me," she pleaded. A man assisted, pulling the handle, and Paola gave the door a sharp kick. It snapped open. "Get out! Get out!" she yelled.
The exit opened into darkness and pelting hail. A murky swamp lay ten feet below. The emergency slide had broken when the plane crashed.
"Jump!" Paola shouted.
Passengers hurried toward the exit, pushing and shoving. People were knocked to the floor. Others scrambled over them. "Don't push," cried Paola. She bent down to help those who'd fallen. "Don't shove," she ordered. "Get out."
One by one, about 20 passengers leaped out the door and into the swamp. José Vivas and his three girls jumped, then Gabriel and Diana. Monica and William followed them.
Smoke and fumes swirled as Paola stood at her post by the door. She was about to black out. Through the din, she heard the screams of passengers still trapped in the plane. They're burning up, she thought. But the black smoke choked her; she couldn't breathe. One more minute in here, she realized, and everyone will die.
Paola moved toward the daylight at the door. Lord forgive me, she thought. And she threw herself from the plane.
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