Falling(53)

The first officer flashed a thumbs-up.



* * *



What was that clanking noise? Jo’s eyes scanned the door, which gave no clues. What if their assumptions were wrong and the trash bags wouldn’t work? What if she couldn’t manage it? What if the gas incapacitated her instantly? What if she succumbed and couldn’t even fight? What if there was an accomplice among the passengers to make sure the gas attack was successful?

She glanced over her shoulder at her six volunteers. Giving them a thumbs-up, she smiled as each of them responded in kind. She was not alone.

Josip, tucked in the back corner of first class, watched her intently. He lifted his chin slowly. It was a sign of solidarity. Or it was a threat. Jo didn’t know which. She lifted her chin in return, intending it as both.

This was her cabin, she reminded herself. She was in control.

Turning back to the door, she exhaled. The smell of her own stale breath, warm and wet against the plastic cup, pissed her off. It reminded her she was only human. She needed to be more.

So in that last moment before battle, she decided she would be.

Jo stood a little straighter, closing her eyes. Her focus narrowed to a pinpoint of black; stillness before action. She made a mental bow to the generations of goddesses, warriors, and survivors who coursed through her DNA, recognizing now that she did indeed belong among them.

There was a sound of metal retracting.

Her eyes slid open.

The door unlocked and swung inward. A cascade of illuminated buttons flowed from ceiling to floor, the cockpit’s windows a horizontal gash of darkness. Captain Hoffman twisted backward in his seat, purple cabin lights reflecting off the plastic shield of his mask. There was a movement from inside. Something flew through the air.

Jo could see the canister’s details as it left Bill’s hand. Silver, small enough to handle, it spewed a stream of white residue that dissipated the further it went from the source.

Jo extended her hands, eager to grab it. Eyes never leaving the proverbial ball, she watched it float toward her grasp. Just as it hit her hands, something slammed into her from behind and threw her hard to the ground. She screamed as she watched the canister topple out of her reach. Crashing against the bulkhead, it rolled to the other side of the galley, lodging itself under a cart.



* * *



Bill’s hands flew to his mouth, smacking against the mask he forgot he was wearing.

Jo!

Her scream echoed in his head even after it stopped. That sound—a noise of pure human terror, human pain, human fury—ripped through his conscience.

You did this, Bill. You brought this on her, on them.

The image burned in his mind. Jo, ready, as she promised she would be. Anticipating, prepared, armed—blindsided.

She never saw the man coming and Bill couldn’t scream a warning, the door already shutting with a slam, the sounds of madness and chaos erupting on the other side.

He looked over to Ben, who leaned forward, staring out the window. The first officer panted as heavily as he did.

“Tell me who that was!” Bill screamed.

The first officer said nothing, and neither did Sam.



* * *



Everything happened at once, though it played out in slow motion.

Jo whipped her head toward the door as her attacker lunged at it.

He kicked and clawed at the door, screaming as he rammed his shoulder repeatedly into the impenetrable surface. His efforts were pointless. The door was shut. The cockpit had not been breached. A flash of relief coursed through Jo. The man at the door turned on her, grabbing her by the uniform. Pulling her up, she came level to his face.

“No! The gas!” Jo screamed over her shoulder to her first ABP, the businessman in row one, who was coming to her aid. He ran into the galley to find the canister.

Dave wrapped his hands around Jo’s throat, squeezing tightly. She’d misjudged him. She thought she’d won him over, that he was part of the team. She was wrong.

Jo’s eyes bulged as she watched the businessman frantically search for the canister, turning around and around in the galley. She tried to point, to direct him, but Dave thrashed her body too violently. Jo could feel herself starting to tremble due to the lack of oxygen. Watching the businessman start to shake, though, she wondered if it was actually the poison.

“I have to get up there!”

White foam trickled out of Dave’s mouth as he screamed in Jo’s face. It dripped down his sweat-covered chin. His bloodshot eyes watered as he blinked against the burning. Jo watched him slowly succumbing to the gas, tiny blisters popping up across his neck next to veins that protruded and pulsed.

“Not on my watch!” he screamed at her. “Not on my watch!”

The businessman, unsuccessful, ducked back to his oxygen mask as the second ABP, the other young businessman, leapt forward to relieve him. He dropped to a knee and started searching under the wrong cart.

Jo tried to point to the right one, but stars began to dance across her vision. Her brain seemed unable to send a message to her hand. Her vision went in and out, melting into darkness and back again. It couldn’t have been ten seconds since the door had shut, but it could have been ten lifetimes.

Dave screamed as his grip loosened. The poison was taking him. Out of nowhere, a blunt object struck him across the face. Jo slipped out of his grip, caught before her body hit the floor. Dave fell at her feet.