The Pilgrim Strain

by Edgar, C. P.

  The aircraft shuddered heavily having found a pocket of turbulent air. Einberg could see that they were drifting into some cloud cover and he could just barely make out, forward of their direction of travel, what appeared to be the edge of some rough weather. He watched as a cloud slipped effortlessly over the front of the wing and was swept over the airfoil and was gone.

  “What was that?” Miller was staring at him now, sleep still heavy on him.

  “Nothing. Some rough weather approaching.”

  “Shit. How long have I been out?”

  “Bro, you've been snoring the entire flight. I was down for a couple hours myself, but you've been out the whole time.”

  Miller raised his arms above his head and straightened his legs, stretching fully like a huge cat. “How much longer until we touch down?” he asked looking around after having removed his sunglasses and stowing them inside his hoodie's front pocket.

  The cabin was darkened, and most of the passengers he could make out were asleep. Every couple of rows he could make out the subtle light of a laptop or tablet, but for the most part it was dark and quiet. He could hear the faintest snoring of someone in the middle section nearby, but only barely over the drone and hum of the Airbus' engines.

  “I think like another forty-five minutes until we start final approach,” Einberg said stretching himself, and yawning.

  “I've got to take a piss.”

  “Good for you. Grab me a Coke or something on your way back. I must have missed the last service, and I need something to spit into.” Einberg was thinking of getting in a lip of tobacco while they waited for the last leg of the flight to play out.

  “Roger.”

  Miller reached down and released the lap belt loosely situated on his waist. Standing, he took a second opportunity to stretch out his limbs. Satisfied, he looked forward and then aft of the aircraft trying to determine the closest restroom to his position in the center of the aircraft.

  There was one about five rows back from where he stood so he started down the aisle doing his best not to knock into the backrests of sleeping passengers. He hated it when people did it to him while he slept. The occasional shift in the aircraft's pitch and some moderate turbulence was making it difficult, and at one point he was forced to grab a headrest to maintain his balance. He whispered, “Sorry” to the passenger occupying the seat but the lady seemed to be fixated on a spreadsheet displayed on her small laptop so he continued.

  He arrived at the first of the two aircraft lavatories situated against the starboard side. He grabbed the pull knob of the lavatory door and began opening the door but stopped when he caught sight of an occupant. Even though it happened in a flash, he could see that the occupant was a large man based upon the space he took up in the confined area. He shut the door just at the moment that the occupant began vomiting.

  “Sorry,” he exclaimed again shaking his head at the circumstance of him having said that twice in the last couple seconds to two different people.

  “Try locking the door next time,” he said in an effort to deflect blame.

  He would have tried the second lavatory but he could clearly see that it was occupied by the label next to the pull knob.

  Turning toward the galley in the center of the aircraft he found a stewardess smiling at him. “Some people don't fly so well sweetie.” she exclaimed. She was a well-manicured older woman and Miller could tell she had flown some miles in her life.

  She continued, “There are a couple more restrooms to the rear of the aircraft if you don't care to wait here. These have been occupied for a while and I was just about to check on them when you arrived.”

  “Thank you, ma'am. You wouldn't happen to have a couple cans of Coke I could grab from you? I think me and my buddy missed the last service.”

  “Of course, no problem.” She turned and pulled open a built-in drawer under the cabinet of the galley. It contained rows of beverages neatly stacked, and she pulled out two cans of cola.

  “They aren't cold, would you like a cup of ice sir?”

  “No ma'am, these will be fine.” He smiled as she passed him the cans. He pulled out his sunglasses and fit them onto the top of his head and placed the cans in his hoodie pocket. They sort of weighed it down some, but he didn't mind.

  “Ma'am, how long until we are landing?” he asked.

  “We should be on final approach soon, which is why I want to check on these two and get them back to their seats. I think we may have a little weather on approach too so make sure you buckle up.”

  “I will, thanks again.” He turned and started toward the rear of the plane. He only bumped into a few seats as he made the trek this time.

  Arriving at the rear of the aircraft he saw three restroom doors occupying the space on the portside of the plane near the tail and a small galley on the starboard side. The place was clear of staff, the only persons being a young mom holding her infant child against her shoulder. She quietly shushed the small one in-between bounces and sways. She smiled warmly at Miller as he looked upon them and with her free hand moved some of her dark brown hair away from her face where it had fallen.

  “Is he asleep?” she asked turning her back toward Miller so he could check.

  “Yes,” he whispered to her, smiling back. The baby was clearly deep asleep, his lips slightly parted and nudged open from his mom's shoulder pressing against his fat cheeks.

  “He's handsome,” Miller noted with a wink.

  “Thank you,” she whispered and went back to bouncing and swaying slightly. She grabbed at the small blanket lying across the child's shoulders and pulled it up higher against his neck.

  Miller turned to the bank of lavatory doors. Remembering his previous experience, he decided to look at the labels on each door before he swooped in. Two were occupied and one was labeled as unoccupied. He turned to the girl just to check and pointed to the door.

  “Yeah, it's empty,” she said. “The others have been in there for a while.” She smiled again, but more devious this time alluding to her implication.

  Miller just chuckled and reached for the door to the empty restroom, entering and then closing the door behind him. He slid the latch to the occupied position effectively locking it.

  Damn, I should have grabbed my toothbrush, he thought while looking at himself in the small mirror hanging above the even smaller sink. He pushed down on the faucet and allowed the water to pour into the palm of his other hand. It was warm but not hot. He pulled the water up and splashed it onto his face. Grabbing a paper towel, he cleaned up a bit and then turned to the toilet. Who on earth would sit down on one of these? he bemused. He thought about it for a moment. Sucks to be a girl, he thought pulling up the lid and commenced to relieve his now overfull bladder.

  The plane shuddered again hitting what Miller thought was the beginning waves of probably some nasty turbulence. He was forced to put his free hand on the wall in front and above him to steady himself as he finished up. The plane rocked slightly trying to pitch him forward into the toilet.

  Suddenly there was a loud banging against the door. Three loud consecutive bangs actually. Someone really must need to go.

  “Occupied,” he loudly replied. He thought about adding asshole, but chose against it at the last millisecond. Miller zipped himself up and flushed the toilet and then quickly rewashed his hands under the faucet. He took one last look at himself in the mirror just to make sure his hair still looked good, even with his sunglasses forced to rest atop his head.

  Miller pulled the slide of the door to the unoccupied setting and pushed the doors open expecting to see some irate, disheveled douchebag standing there. Instead he saw the mother and child he had just moments before been talking to standing in the far corner of the galley. The child was clearly still asleep, his head having fallen slightly off the corner of his mom's shoulder, a line of drool escaping his mouth and falling slowly down toward the floor of the plane.

  The mom's eyes, however, caught Miller temporarily off
guard. They were wide and wild looking. She looked like a frightened animal trapped. She was staring at the man standing in front of her and in-between her and Miller.

  The man’s back was to Miller, but it was rigid and heaving and Miller could tell something was terribly wrong with the picture. From Miller's peripheral, he could see a long line of muck and vomit trailing from the now open laboratory stall next to the one he was still half in. The trail led directly to the man. Miller could see it was still dripping off the man from somewhere, chunks of it sliding off his pants and landing on the floor.

  Her eyes switched from the man to Miller as she buried herself against the fuselage of the aircraft behind her. She was silently begging for help.

  “Hey!” Miller loudly shouted to the man. He took a step forward clearing himself from the threshold which allowed him to position himself with some room to move if need be. It was an unconscious, instinctual movement.

  The man coughed and hacked for a moment, spittle shooting out of his mouth toward the woman in a cloud of mist. She turned to cover her son, burying her and her son into the wall with her back to them.

  The man, who was shorter than Miller and balding, took a hasty step forward toward the woman raising his hands high into the air. Miller without hesitation moved forward and grabbed the back of the man's jacket collar, lifting as he did so, and spun the man toward him. He immediately regretted that decision when he was face-to-face with him.

  The man's eyes, seen through the reading glasses still affixed upon his nose, were completely hemorrhaged with blood. Mucous, vomit, and other body fluids were seeping from his nose and mouth and hung in strings down the front of his neck and chest. Miller could smell it emanating from this man, the putrid and sour smells washing over Miller's face and nose like a rotten blanket.

  The bald man was grimacing, making a sick sort of smirk on his face and Miller realized in time that he was about to cough again directly into his face. Miller, with practiced ease, stepped back quickly and then fired forward with a front kick to the man's chest just below his sternum with massive force. The man flew backwards and slammed hard into the galley wall. An audible crack heard when something in the man's back and shoulder made hard contact with the edge of a container protruding from the galley storage bank and gave way to the energy of Miller's attack.

  The young mother who once seemed to be frozen in a trance of panic and despair, yelped at the sound of the man hitting the wall next to her along the back of the galley and upon the fuselage of the aircraft. She turned and ran past Miller and into the safety of the rear cabin aisle, clutching her baby with knuckles white.

  Miller could hear people moving now, having awoken from the noise of the altercation. The lights of the cabin were now on as well. He heard footsteps quickly approaching down the aisle toward him and stole a quick glance to see a large male flight attendant in quick stride. Passengers were beginning to stand up in their seats to turn toward the commotion. A couple had their phones at the ready, preparing to become the next viral YouTube video.

  Miller looked back at the man he had taken down just in time to see that he had maneuvered himself on the ground and into a position to spring at Miller. He looked like an animal and was just in the process of launching himself. He bellowed out an awful scream, which Miller had half expected already, as he sprung from his coiled crouch. How had they gotten on the plane?

  Miller quickly looked for a weapon of opportunity and seeing none pulled the can of Coke out of his hoodie pocket palming the bottom side of the can. He slammed the top of the can, with the beveled edge, down as hard as he could onto the top of the man's head, simultaneously redirecting the man's leap sideways. The man sailed passed him, a heavy breath exhaled as the can made contact, and he fell face first into the open door of the lavatory which Miller had just recently exited. He remained there unmoving, seconds ticking by.

  Miller was tackled from behind by a large person and pushed upright against the far wall in the galley. Another man hit him too, pinning Miller further against the wall. Miller did not struggle knowing that he should remain calm.

  “I'm not going to fight you. That man was attacking that young mother,” Miller calmly stated pulling his arms and hands into his chest tightly so they couldn’t grab them.

  “Do not move. You will need to be restrained until the authorities can investigate the matter. Please sir, do not move.” The flight attendant was maneuvering to grab Miller's hands. Miller knew that flight attendants carried restraints in today's world, he had seen some used during flights and watched enough news about crazy drunk assholes on planes.

  Miller turned his head just in time to see Einberg slip into the galley. The second man that was assisting the flight attendant went down wordlessly. One second, he was standing there helping, and the next second he was on the ground and out of the fight.

  Einberg moved to the side of the flight attendant and grabbed hold of his left hand quickly by the man's index and middle fingers. Einberg grasped them tightly and then instantly snapped the two fingers with a jerk. The crack of the bone reverberating within the confines of the small galley. The flight attendant sucked in his breath, holding it while Einberg rotated his hand behind his back and then pulled the man down to his knees by his damaged fingers. The flight attendant groaned loudly, releasing his grasp on Miller. Einberg whispered into the man's ear, “Easy. Do not fight back.”

  Miller snaked out a gap in the melee and took up a cover position behind Einberg so that they would not be attacked from persons nearby within the rear cabin.

  Another flight attendant who had been quickly approaching came to a halt when she sized up Miller.

  “What on Earth is going on back here? What is going on Frank?” She said looking down at the flight attendant that Einberg had on his knees. She viewed the collapsed man in the restroom as well. Seeing him unmoving she gasped, bringing her hands up to her mouth.

  She turned looking for some assistance, “You sir, and you. Please help me.” She said pointing to two large male passengers. They had been watching from the backs of their seats and after glancing at Miller and Einberg reluctantly stood up.

  “I wouldn't do that if I was you,” Miller stated firmly. They seemed to take note and paused in place.

  “Those men helped me. That man lying back there is sick and was trying to attack me and my baby.” Miller looked down the corridor of the plane's aisle to see the young mother still clutching her baby, but now expressing her gratitude to Miller with a look of sorrow.

  “That man there rescued me. Leave him alone, he's the good guy. That monster lying on the floor tried to hurt my baby. I'm willing to give a complete police report when we land. He has done nothing wrong.”

  The female flight attendant turned to Miller and shot another glance at the man lying half out of the lavatory still unmoved. “Did you kill him?”

  “I don't know,” was all Miller got out before another blood curdling scream erupted from mid-aircraft.

  Bursting out of the lavatory near where Miller and Einberg had been seated, a large man in a dark grey overcoat had managed to grab the nice old flight attendant that had given Miller the cans of cola. The man was white as a ghost, his hair disheveled and greasy.

  Even from their vantage point at the tail of the aircraft, Miller and Einberg could clearly see the dark streaks running up from his neck and onto his face. His veins the color of greenish black ink and branching across the fat of his jowls like roots of an evil weed.

  The female flight attendant was pounding his chest with her fists, her right hand rhythmically bouncing off a red handkerchief curiously dangling from his breast pocket. He ran his hand up along her back and grabbed hard at her long hair pulling at it. She screamed and the strain forced her head back. He bit down hard on her exposed neck, blood bursting from the sides of his mouth as he clamped down. He pushed his body against hers and pulled her down to the ground using his weight to topple her.

  She stopped screaming. Mi
ller thought, but she hadn't stopped. Everyone else was screaming, drowning out her singular haunting cry for help.

  Miller ran to her. He ran as fast as he possibly could in the confined space and through the crowds of people that erupted into pure panic within the cabin of the aircraft. Pushing and clawing his way to help her.

  ***

  Flight # 1202 Dubai to Washington, D.C.

  Merissa sat staring at the man's hands. Really just his left hand, as it rested closest to her, almost touching her. It was resting on top of his left thigh. They looked powerful. She could see scarring across a couple of his knuckles, and the skin was rough. He had healthy and strong veins, and his fingers were thick and muscled. They looked like they could clamp down with force and pressure.

  The more she studied his hands the more aroused she became, tingling.

  Rainer was asleep next to her on their flight. His left leg just barely touching her right leg. The space was cramped and he was not a small man. She had tried to cross her legs so that she would not touch him, but he had been asleep for some time and her legs hurt so she had given up on trying to be proper.

  He looked like he was in control even when he was sleeping, she noted. His eyes were simply closed, his jaw set. His face remained stoic and she was curious as to whether he was truly asleep or if he was just off until provoked. He was breathing rhythmically, the rise and fall of his chest felt through the chair.

  Where is this feeling coming from? She thought while shifting slightly in her chair.

  Yesterday afternoon at the airport, there had been a moment between them that she couldn't shake from her mind. Ed had dropped Rainer and Merissa off at Basrah International as planned for their series of connecting flights leading back to the States. He would be heading out later that evening with Helechek and Daggan on a separate flight sequence.

  “You guys be safe, and I'll see you back in the States,” he had said. “Remember to be ready for pickup at the arrival terminal and rendezvous at the safe house in Alexandria.”