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By Dean Koontz


The aircraft crashed all at once. 300 and thirty humans died. No rationalization. No survivors. Now one guy who misplaced every little thing that evening is ready to find the solutions he must pass on together with his life—or the conviction to ultimately finish it.
Crime reporter Joe chippie misplaced his spouse and daughters within the crash of Flight 353. Aching from his loss, Joe is not able to paintings, imagine, or do something yet grieve, and look forward to his personal loss of life. Then Joe meets Rose, a girl who claims to be the crash’s sole survivor. yet earlier than Joe can probe additional, the elusive Rose slips away and Joe is left with haunting, terrifying questions: If Rose lived in the course of the crash, is it attainable his kinfolk may have survived it, too? Did the gurus conspire to conceal what quite occurred that evening? Joe’s look for the reality will shatter him like not anything has before—and strength him to query every thing he thinks he is familiar with approximately existence and loss of life.

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Francis of Assisi, which was once no longer a far-fetched suggestion while one observed her looking at with ask yourself and love upon even an unsightly backyard lizard cupped in her small, cautious palms. Heads down. defend your faces. In that suggestion was once desire, the implication that they'd all live to tell the tale and that the worst factor that will take place to them will be a face-disfiguring come across with a hurtling computer or damaged glass. The fearsome turbulence elevated. the perspective of descent grew extra serious, pinning Joe to his seat, in order that he couldn’t simply bend ahead and shield his face. perhaps the oxygen mask dropped from overhead, or perhaps harm to the craft had led to a structures failure, with the outcome that mask had now not been deployed at each seat. He didn’t comprehend if Michelle, Chrissie, and Nina have been capable of breathe or if, choking at the billowing soot, they'd struggled futilely to discover clean air. Smoke surged extra thickly in the course of the passenger compartment. The cabin grew to become as claustrophobic as any coal mine deep underneath the skin of the earth. within the blinding blackdamp, hidden sinuosities of fireside uncoiled like snakes. The wrenching terror of the aircraft’s out of control descent was once equaled by way of the phobia of now not figuring out the place these flames have been or once they may possibly flash with better vigour throughout the 747. because the tension at the airliner elevated to all yet insupportable degrees, thunderous vibrations shuddered throughout the fuselage. the large wings thrummed as if they might tear free. The metal body groaned like a dwelling beast in mortal ache, and maybe minor welds broke with sounds as loud and sharp as gunshots. a couple of rivets sheered off, each one with a piercing screeeeek. To Michelle and Chrissie and little Nina, might be it appeared that the aircraft might collapse in flight and they will be forged into the black sky, be spun clear of each other, plummeting of their separate seats to 3 separate deaths, every one abjectly by myself on the fast of effect. the massive 747-400, besides the fact that, was once a surprise of layout and a triumph of engineering, brilliantly conceived and soundly built. despite the mysterious hydraulics failure that rendered the airplane uncontrollable, the wings didn't tear free, and the fuselage didn't crumble. Its strong Pratt and Whitney engines screaming as though in defiance of gravity, national Flight 353 held jointly all through its ultimate descent. at some point soon Michelle might have discovered that every one desire used to be misplaced, that they have been in a death plunge. With attribute braveness and selflessness, she could have inspiration purely of the youngsters then, could have targeting comforting them, distracting them up to attainable from techniques of demise. doubtless she leaned towards Nina, pulled her shut, and even with the breath-stealing fumes, spoke into the girl’s ear to be heard above the clamor: It’s ok, child, we’re jointly, i admire you, carry directly to Mommy, i admire you, you’re the simplest little lady who ever was once. Shaking down, down, down in the course of the Colorado evening, her voice jam-packed with emotion yet with out panic, she had without doubt sought out Chrissie too: It’s o.k., I’m with you, honey, carry my hand, i admire you rather a lot, I’m so very pleased with you, we’re jointly, it’s o.k., we’ll regularly be jointly.

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