Falling(71)

He sighed. Exhausted from his four-day and exhausted by his life.

“I thought you were going to call the super to fix the door while I was gone,” he said loudly, laying his hat on the counter, draping his uniform coat across the back of a chair. “The place looks like shit, man.”

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he sat at the table, flipping through the mail. Trashing the junk, he laid the rest next to the newspaper.

The newspaper.

He cocked his head. He and Sam didn’t get the paper.

Picking it up, he found a different publication underneath from a different day. Below it, another one. All of them were dog-eared and marked with red ink. Every story was about the troop withdrawal.

Realizing Sam hadn’t said anything since he’d come home, Ben turned. Sam’s bedroom light was on, the door ajar.

“Sam?”

There was no response.

“Saman,” he said louder, crossing the living room. Knocking to no response, he pushed the door open.

Blood soaked the mattress so deeply it almost appeared black. If there hadn’t been trails of red leading from Sam’s forearms down, Ben probably wouldn’t have understood what he was looking at.

“Oh my god!” Ben yelled, lunging toward his friend, then pulling back, pivoting on his heels. “Fuck!” he screamed, running into the kitchen. Grabbing his phone, he dialed 911, swearing again as he ran back into the bedroom.

Sam’s eyes were clear and focused despite his shallow breathing and gray skin. Ben hovered over him shouting into the phone.

“Hurry!” he screamed, and hung up, the phone clenched beneath white knuckles.

He grabbed the bedsheet and wound it around Sam’s wrists to try to stop the bleeding. The two friends stared at each other, trying to interpret what the other was thinking.

Sam’s voice was weak and slow. “Remember when we got drinks that time at that place by the beach? The place with the outdoor patio. With the blankets for when it gets cold? We had oysters. You tried to hit on the girl at the bar next to you. Then her boyfriend showed up.”

Ben smiled faintly and nodded.

“Right then. Right there. That’s the exact moment our village was attacked.”

Ben shut his eyes.

“We left them there.”

Tears squeezed out the corners of Ben’s closed eyes, dropping onto Sam’s chest.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Sam whispered. “Any of it.”

He groaned in pain. Ben gripped his wrists tighter.

“Why?” Sam said. “Why are you stopping me?”

Ben clenched his jaw, his breath savage with shame and anger. For the first time he admitted to himself what Sam had already decided.

“Because I’m pissed off you would leave me here. We will do this together.”



* * *



“Ben, let’s make a choice,” Bill said, “together. Right now. Let’s choose to help your people, not hurt them. We can do that.”

Bill couldn’t tell if Ben was seriously considering the offer, but the young man was clearly thrown off. Empathy must not have been in his calculations. Bill realized he was leaning toward Ben, trying to will him to his side, to a place where they could land the plane safely, together.

“Coastal four-one-six, this is Air Force Lieutenant General Sullivan speaking on behalf of the president of the United States of America.”

The pilots flinched at the aggressive voice that barked through the cockpit. “Be advised, we are aware First Officer Ben Miro is a threat. If you do not respond immediately, we are prepared to authorize a military strike on your aircraft. Consider this your warning.”

Ben turned to look at the sky, lifting his chin, his jaw clenching.

“It was never about the crash, Bill. It was never about you or the passengers or your family. It wasn’t really even about the choice.” He shook his head. “It was about waking people up. Doing something dramatic enough to get their attention. Something they couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t personal.”

He turned on Bill with dead, black eyes.

“That was before. Now? I want you to burn.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX


WHEN BIG DADDY ENTERED FIRST class, Jo gasped.

“I know. It’s gonna be one hell of a tan line,” Daddy said.

Outside of his mask, his whole face was red and swollen and covered in blisters. The palms of his hands were wrapped in gauze from the first-aid kit and the whites of his eyes were painted red.

Josip stood next to Jo wearing a spare portable oxygen bottle like the rest of the crew. Big Daddy looked the man up and down.

“He’s with us,” Jo said.

Daddy glanced back at Dave, still slumped over unconscious. “Yeah, no shit,” he said. “But why’s he up here?”

“Because he’s blocking for me,” Jo said.

“I’m sorry?”

“We figured out the mole. It’s Ben. And he’s got a gun.”

Daddy blinked at her.

They’d both been in aviation their entire adult lives and they both knew the only thing you could always count on was that your crew had your back. Crew was family. And family didn’t turn on its own.

Big Daddy clutched the sides of the bulkhead to steady himself, searching the floor as if the explanation was stretched out before him.