Flight Page #6

WHIP:

(keys his mic)

Atlanta. This is SouthJet 227. We

are in an uncontrolled dive,

descending out of...sh*t I don’t

know...

EVANS:

(calls to Whip)

21 thousand!

WHIP:

(into his mic)

...21 thousand. We are declaring an

emergency! We are dumping fuel! We

have a jammed stabilizer...or

something. We need a block of

altitude to work the problem...and

a heading to the nearest airport!

(YELLS to Evans)

I’m starting to lose it!

The yoke pressure pulls Whip hard against his harness.

29.

ATC:

SouthJet 227. Hartsfield-Jackson

International is 10 O’clock and 20

miles from your present position.

Maintain block altitude, Flight

Level 10 thousand through Flight

Level 20 thousand. Turn left

heading 260.

WHIP:

(keys mic)

260...we’ll do our best.

(to Evans)

It’s getting away from me! I can’t

hold...dump the flaps!

EVANS:

We’re still fast.

The yoke is ripping away from Whip’s hands.

WHIP:

DO IT! 30 percent!

Evans dumps in the flaps. The JR-88 slows dramatically and

balloons up.

WHIP (CONT’D)

That bought us a little time. We

need to revert to manual control.

Your side first, pul...

Whip is interrupted by the radio.

ATC:

(on radio)

SouthJet 227, Atlanta. Fuel dump is

approved.

WHIP:

(keys mic)

Thank you.

Evans is confused and panicked, he throws his hands up.

WHIP (CONT’D)

Evans, look at me! Manual

Reversion. Red lever, on the floor,

far side of the console.

Evans sees it.

EVANS:

I got it.

30.

WHIP:

Pull it up, turn it clockwise, push

it back down.

Evans does exactly that, then pulls back on his yoke --

nothing!

EVANS:

Nothing! No control!

WHIP:

Goddamn it!!

Once again, the plane pitches into a dive. Whip strains to

hold on.

WHIP (CONT’D)

I can’t let go! Can you reach mine?

Evans strains to reach Whip’s Reversion Pull-Handle -- but

can’t.

EVANS:

I can’t reach it.

Evans moves to release his harness, but Whip stops him.

WHIP:

No! Don’t! Stay strapped in!

(calls over his shoulder)

Margaret! Margaret!

Margaret tumbles into the cockpit, catching herself on Whip’s

chair. She’s crying.

MARGARET:

Oh God, Whip. What’s happening?!

WHIP:

Get strapped into the jump-seat. I

need your help.

Margaret opens the jump-seat and starts to pull on her

harness. Throughout the scene she is struggling with her

harness.

WHIP (CONT’D)

Margaret, see that red lever on the

floor next to my chair? The one

that says, Manual Control?

MARGARET:

Yes.

31.

WHIP:

On the count of three you pull it

up, turn it clockwise, then push it

back down. OK? You ready?

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she gives Whip a brave

nod.

WHIP (CONT’D)

Here we go. One, two...

Whip releases back pressure from his yoke, pushing it forward

-- the plane noses downward 20 degrees!

WHIP (CONT’D)

...three!

MORE TERRIFIED SHRIEKS come from the back. Margaret quickly

disengages then re-engages the large red handle.

Whip pulls back on his yoke. The plane pitches up.

WHIP (CONT’D)

Ok. OK. We got something. It’s

still stiff as hell. Evans, put in

some power!

Evans pushes up the throttles. Whip gingerly applies pressure

to his stick. His face fills with worry.

WHIP (CONT’D)

I don’t know. It feels like the son

of a b*tch wants to nose over.

Then suddenly... WHAP! Whip’s yoke flies out of his hands and

SLAMS forward!

The plane banks right and drops! Margaret SCREAMS!

WHIP (CONT’D)

SH*T! POWER BACK!

(he pulls back the power)

I CAN’T F***ING BELIEVE THIS!

EVANS:

OH NO!

Now, ATC comes on the radio...

ATC:

SouthJet 227, Hartsfield-Jackson is

eleven o’clock and niner miles. I

see you below 10,000. How are you

doing?

32.

WHIP:

(keys his mic)

Not good. You got anything closer?

We’re in a rapid dive here...

ATC:

Roger, SouthJet 227. Uh...Clayton

County is 2 miles at your 4

o’clock.

WHIP:

Negative. We’re too high...we can’t

pitch for glide. We have no

stabilizer control.

ATC:

Copy, SouthJet 227.

The plane continues to drop, increasing its nose-down

attitude and speed.

WHIP pushes both of his feet forward, stretching his body to

get leverage as we can see him pulling on the yoke, trying to

get the plane out of the dive it’s in.

Evans is starting to lose it.

EVANS:

Oh Lord, we’re descending at 4,700

feet per minute, out of 7,000. I

SEE NOTHING BUT HOUSES!

WHIP:

OK! Here’s what we’re going to do!

(to Evans)

When I say, you retract the gear,

retract the flaps and trim both

ailerons. But every things gonna be

opposite, so be sure to trim down.

Margaret...

EVANS:

Trim down?! What are you gonna do?!

Whip takes Margaret’s hand and puts it on the throttle

levers.

WHIP:

When I ask for power, push both of

these forward. Got it?

(Margaret nods)

What’s your son’s name?

33.

MARGARET:

Trevor.

WHIP:

Say “I love you Trevor.”

EVANS:

You mean trim up?! Right? You

want me to trim up?

MARGARET:

Why?

WHIP:

The black box.

MARGARET:

I love you Trevor. Be a good boy.

Mommy loves you.

EVANS:

What are we doing?! Why would I

trim down?!

WHIP:

We’re gonna roll it. Ready? Here we

go. I’ve got control.

EVANS:

(terrified)

WHAT! WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ROLL IT?!!

WHIP:

Just a little barrel roll. Don’t

panic. Relax. Let it roll.

WHIP’s body is fully extended as he pulls back on the yoke

and turns into a steep bank.

WHIP (CONT’D)

EVANS, FLAPS!

EVANS:

FLAPS UP!

WHIP:

MARGARET FULL POWER! EVANS, TRIM

US! GEAR UP!

The G-force of the roll presses Evans away from the console.

EVANS:

I CAN’T REACH THE GEAR!

34.

WHIP:

Margaret! Can you reach it?

Margaret bends forward and pulls the lever.

WHIP (CONT’D)

WHAT’S OUR ALTITUDE?

EVANS:

3,000...I think.

WHIP:

Let it roll. I got it!

Whip quickly retracts the speed brakes, then PUSHES HIS YOKE

FULL FORWARD! The clumsy liner does a slow, ungraceful roll.

INT. PLANE CABIN - SAME

WE WATCH as the PASSENGERS scream as the plane rolls over and

they are suspended upside down.

EXT. SKY OVER ATLANTA - SAME

The JR-88 finishes its barrel-roll, skimming over suburban

rooftops and trees. A CLOUD-TRAIL of Jet-A SPEWING from its

wings.

As the INVERTED PLANE ROARS overhead the CAMERA PANS to find

NICOLE:

Being rushed out of her apartment on a stretcher. The TWO

PARAMEDICS and Fran (the landlord) instinctively duck as the

jet SCREAMS over.

FRAN:

(at the sight of the jet)

Jesus Christ! What the F***!?

INT. FLIGHT DECK - SAME

THE PLANE IS COMPLETELY INVERTED!!

THRU THE WINDSCREEN -- THE PLANE LEVELS OFF -- IT’S INVERTED

NOSE RISES TO MEET THE HORIZON.

EVANS hangs in his harness straps as dust and smoke swirl

around him. The inverted wings make an EERIE WHISTLING SOUND

as the plane SHUDDERS violently side-to-side.

35.

EVANS:

Oh Lord Jesus! We’re inverted!

WHIP reaches over and pulls the throttles back. He suddenly

seems strangely calm, comfortable with his fate...

WHIP:

We’re level. We can maintain

altitude like this.

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