Falling(19)

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face. He wiped it away.

“The crash of Flight four-one-six and the chaos and death it will bring are the tiniest glimpse of the pain and suffering the Kurdish people have unfairly endured because of me. Today, poison will fill your lungs, and panic will overcome your senses as you suffocate, gasping for cool relief that will never come. The putrid scent of decaying flesh will fill your nose as your precious American skin festers and rots to the bone. Eyes, burning and bloodshot, will bulge from your skulls, wide with terror, as you see your sins played out across your own bodies. You will cower in the empty promise of your privilege and realize that you are not special. That you too will die. And in your last horror-filled moments, you will remember that thousands of innocent Kurdish men, women, and children have gone before you, dying the same tortured deaths—and all because of you. You and your ignorance. Your indifference. Your unwillingness to be inconvenienced by caring. So now, you and I will pay.

“This pitiful restitution cannot come close to the justice the Kurds deserve, but it is the best I can do. So on behalf—”

His voice began to quiver.

“On behalf of America… and on behalf of my family… I come before you with Kurdish blood on my hands and ask the Kurdish people for forgiveness through my sacrifice and the sacrifice of Flight four-one-six.”

The intercom buzzed throughout the cockpit and he pressed the red button to stop recording. Bill stared at his frozen face on the screen in front of him. He pushed a button on the center console.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice flat.

“Ben here,” came the first officer’s voice. “Ready to come up.”

“Hold on,” Bill said. “ATC’s talking.”

On his phone, he opened his email, attached the video to a new message, entered Carrie’s email address, and pressed “Send.” Laying the phone next to his computer, he lowered the laptop’s screen so he could let Ben up—but paused.

Thinking better of it, he reopened the computer and went to his email there. He clicked on the “Sent” folder, wanting to make sure the email went through. Instead, he found that the last sent message was from nearly twenty minutes ago, before the bathroom break. The email with the video hadn’t been delivered.

“Shit,” he whispered, refreshing the browser.

Nothing.



* * *



Jo tapped her finger on her wrist, staring out at the cabin from her blocking position. She could tell Bill was stalling.

In the back Kellie crossed the galley.

“I think she’s single too,” Jo said suggestively over her shoulder.

Ben was busy texting. He looked up, clearly having no idea who Jo was talking about. “Huh?”

Jo nodded toward the back.

“Oh! She is?”

“Uh-huh. Want to stay out for a bit and I’ll call her up?” Jo suggested, hoping her tone came off as casually as she meant it to.



* * *



Bill knew Ben was standing on the other side of the door waiting while Jo blocked. It had already been a long break—he assumed Jo had stalled as best she could—and if he didn’t open soon it was going to start looking suspicious. Both to Ben and whatever other eyes were watching them. He refreshed the browser again. The “Sent” folder stayed the same.



* * *



Jo watched Kellie flip her hair to the side with a laugh. The young woman picked up a magazine and walked it over to the other flight attendant, the curves of her tight uniform impressive even a full length of a plane away.

Ben glanced at the flight deck door, then back to the blonde.

“I don’t know, it’s been long enough of a— Oh. Hey, Bill. Yeah, I’m ready.”

He hung the phone up with one more glance down the aisle as Kellie ducked out of sight.

“Next break, for sure, Miss Matchmaker.” He winked at Jo as the door opened and he disappeared up front.



* * *



“You get lost out there?” Bill said.

“Jo can talk, man.”

Bill opened his computer. At the top of the “Sent” folder sat the email with the video.



* * *



Jo heard the door close and lock behind her. Turning with a deep exhale, she quickly picked up the interphone and looked through the plane to the back galley.

Everyone was in their seats except a young lady coming up the aisle from the bathroom. Taking her seat, she became one of the mass; tops of heads occasionally swaying in unison with the plane’s movements like sheep packed tightly into the bed of a truck. Jo looked out at these strangers and wondered what twists of fate had brought them all here, now. People didn’t pay to leave their comfort zone unnecessarily. Every person on board had a reason for being here. She wondered who was being shepherded to visit friends, who was going to a wedding. A funeral, a work trip, a vacation. Going home.

Hijacking a plane.

But with 144 passengers on board, surely not all of them were a threat. So knowing what she knew, was it fair to keep the innocent in the dark? Telling them would be a risk to Bill’s family, of course. But didn’t these families on board deserve more?

There it was again. That faint murmur in her gut. She had ignored it the first time, but this time it was stronger, unavoidable.