by Cross, Amy
“Derek's a laugh,” Tom continued, turning to Casey. “Watch out for his practical jokes, though. The man has no mercy!”
“Why are you out here so late?” Casey asked, keeping her eyes fixed on Derek.
“As it turned out,” he replied, “nothing at all. But I was at home an hour ago, and suddenly I got it into my head that I'd left one of the burners on in the office. I told myself I was just worrying about nothing, but you know how it is. I couldn't settle, so finally I decided I'd have to come all the way back and check. Good job I haven't got a wife waiting for me, or she'd be giving me hell right now.”
“Derek lives in town,” Tom added, “so it's not too far for him to come.”
“I feel like such an idiot,” Derek continued. “Of course, when I got here I found that the burners were off, just like they should've been. Sorry I didn't let you two know, I should've given you a call to let you know I was skulking about but I didn't want to bother you. Plus, I was worried you'd laugh at me. I just thought I could slip in and slip out without anyone noticing.”
“Nothing gets past us,” Tom said with a chuckle, tapping the side of his nose. “We're like sniffer-hounds, we are. I'm training this one up, teaching her everything I know. She's doing good so far.”
“Shouldn't the perimeter sensors have gone off when you arrived?” Casey asked.
“I've been here long enough to know how to avoid those,” Derek replied. “Naughty, I know, but it's like I said, I really just wanted to slip in, double-check the burners, and slip out again.”
“How do you avoid them?”
“It's complicated.”
“That seems like a security hazard,” she continued. “You're going to need to tell us how you do it, so we can get it patched.”
“Leave the man be,” Tom told her. “He doesn't need the third degree.”
“Yeah, what is this?” Derek asked. “The Spanish Inquisition?”
Both men laughed, while Casey merely offered a polite smile. Clearly not entirely convinced, she watched as Derek sipped from his tea, and then as he added even more sugar.
“So did you work here when the accident happened?” she asked.
He hesitated for a moment, as if the question had caught him off-guard. “Aye, young lady, I did.”
“Maybe you shouldn't ask about that,” Tom told her. “It's a bit of a superstition around here. No-one likes talking about it very much.”
“Ah, she's alright,” Derek muttered. “It happened. No amount of not talking about it is ever gonna bring all those people back. Two hundred and eighteen souls were lost that night, on a patch of ground not more than five hundred meters from where we're sitting right now. I wasn't on duty that particular night, but I know people who were, and they said they could hear screams from the wreckage for a while, until the flames...”
His voice trailed off for a moment.
“Well,” he added finally, “I'm sure you get the idea. Hexley's not been the same since. The airport, the town... The whole area's never really recovered.”
“What do you think caused it?” Casey asked.
“Why would you ask me that?”
“You work in the maintenance team, don't you?” she continued, keeping her eyes fixed on him. “I just thought maybe you had a theory.”
“Everyone's got theories,” he replied. “I know a guy in town who's convinced the government brought the plane down, on account of there being some UFO specialist on-board who was supposedly gonna present a paper at a conference, proving the existence of extra-terrestrials. I read another chap on the internet who said the plane was accidentally downed by some American jets doing maneuvers in the area. So as I'm sure you'll appreciate, the world's not short of crackpots with lunatic conspiracy theories about that crash. There must be a hundred different ideas out there.”
“But what's yours?” she asked.
“What makes you think I have one?”
“You must have thought about it.”
He eyed her cautiously for a moment, with a hint of suspicion.
“Aye,” he said with a sigh, “of course I have. What could make all four engines develop faults simultaneously like that? There's only one thing that I can think of, but it's just about the scariest, most unsettling theory of all.”
They sat in silence for a moment, as if Derek was daring Casey to ask.
“Coincidence,” he added finally. “The thing men never want to admit can actually happen.”
“But four engines failing at once,” she replied, “that's -”
“A hell of a coincidence?” He nodded. “Yep, it sure is. But that's the thing about coincidences, even the really crazy ones. From time to time, they happen. And it's the scariest explanation because there's no-one to blame and there's not really anything you can do about it. Sure, you can try to stop the same coincidence from happening again, but sometimes...” His voice trailed off for a moment. “Sometimes it's like the world just wants to remind us that we're not in control. They we can't keep everyone safe. So things like the Hexley crash happen as a kind of warning.”
The three of them sat in silence for a moment, lost in reflection.
“You think two hundred people died because of a series of coincidences?” Casey asked finally. “That seems like a very vague way to account for an accident that killed more than two hundred people.”
“What's your theory, then?”
“I don't have one, but I think there has to be a better explanation than coincidences. There have to be steps that can be taken to make sure nothing like that will ever happen again.”
“There was a full report,” Derek replied matter-of-factly, “and thousands of recommendations were put in place. Nothing exactly like the Hexley Airport disaster will ever happen again. But something else will, one day. That's just life.”
“Then there are the other theories,” Tom pointed out. “Old Eve and -”
“No,” Derek said firmly.
“But -”
“A load of horseshit,” he continued, shaking his head. “Not only do I not believe in ghosts, but I also happen to take a very dim view of people who entertain the possibility. So please, let's knock that idea on the head right away.”
“I wasn't saying I believe all that stuff,” Tom continued. “I was just mentioning that there are people who do.”
“I should get home,” Derek announced, getting to his feet. The mention of ghosts and Old Eve had clearly left him unsettled. “I only meant to come out here for five minutes, and I'm due back at work for six. I should get some kip.”
“What's the tattoo?” Casey asked.
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“We've got rounds to carry on with,” Tom muttered, hauling himself up and downing the rest of his tea in one go, spilling some on his shirt in the process. Letting out a satisfied gasp, he set his mug down and turned to Casey. “Come on, then. I've still got plenty to show you before the night's over.” He turned to Derek. “This is only her second shift. These young people, they think they know everything, just 'cause they can read about it on the internet. I'm still in the process of educating her in the finer aspects of airport security.”
“Mind how you go,” Derek told them, before heading to the door.
“What does that mean?” she asked, turning to him.
Without answering, Derek pulled the door open and looked out at the night sky. Light snow had begun to fall once again, and a cold wind was already blowing into the room.
“Looks like we'll get another storm soon,” he muttered, before turning back to Casey. “The night of the crash was stormy, too. Not so stormy that they couldn't take off, but there was a lot of snow. Every time the really bad weather comes back, I always get to thinking about it. Everyone at Hexley's the same, I reckon. They might not want to talk about the crash, but that's because they're always thinking about it.” He glanced over at Tom. “You'll leave this out of the logbook, yeah? I don't want my supervisor banging on at me about coming
back so late.”
“Sure thing,” Tom told him.
Casey furrowed her brow. “But -”
“We'll leave it out,” Tom added, with a tone of voice that made it very clear he didn't expect to be challenged. “There are some things that just aren't worth bothering about, aren't there?”
“You're a fine man,” Derek told him, before stepping out into the snow. “See you around, I expect. Both of you.”
With that, he trudged off into the night, quickly disappearing from view. His footsteps could still be heard, however, and Casey looked over at the far wall as she listened to the sound of Derek heading away from the hanger building. Finally, once he could no longer be heard, she turned and saw that Tom was watching her with a hint of suspicion.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing, just...”
His voice trailed off for a moment, but he seemed distinctly uncomfortable.
***
As Derek cycled past the main gate, he stopped for a moment and turned to look back at the terminal building. He seemed almost to be waiting for something, as he kept his eyes fixed on the brightly-lit windows, but finally he turned and cycled on, heading to town.
At no point did he seem to notice that a little girl was standing at the side of the road, staring at him, wearing a tattered and torn dress that appeared to have been badly burned.
***
“It's just,” Tom continued, “maybe you shouldn't ask about the accident like that. Not so directly. Not with people who were actually working here at the time.”
“Sorry,” Casey replied, following him to the door, “but he didn't seem to mind talking about it until you started asking about the ghost sightings.”
“It wasn't me who brought that up!”
“It was.”
“Are you sure? Well, I'd just leave it out if I were you, that's all. The Hexley crash is just one of those things that sets people on edge. Ten years might seem like a long time to a young whippersnapper such as yourself, but to those of us who've been around a while, it's the blink of an eye. Derek's right about one thing. I'm not sure anyone ever truly gets over something like that.”
Once they were outside, he turned and closed the door, taking a moment to make sure that it was properly secured. After a moment, however, he paused, as if he was troubled by some other thought.
“Some people think that Old Eve only appears when something's going to happen,” he said finally.
“What do you mean?”
“They think that if she's seen too often,” he continued, “it means that something bad is going to happen again. It's like she's watching over the airport, as a kind of guardian angel. And if she's spotted too many times, too close together, it makes people jumpy.”
“And has she been spotted lately?”
She waited for an answer, but he seemed reluctant to say anything.
“When I looked at the logbook before we came out,” she continued, “I saw a mention of that boy you told me about. The one who had some kind of meltdown in the toilets during the day? When he was being carried out of the building, he was going on and on about some woman who was coming for him. He said he'd been chased by a woman in the departure area.”
“Sure, but kids are stupid.”
“And one of the deicing machines was shut down earlier in the day, just for a few minutes, because a supervisor thought he saw a woman standing on the pad or whatever they call the place where the planes are parked. That's two in one day, after nothing being reported for over a year.” She paused. “Are people starting to worry that Old Eve's being seen again?”
Again she waited, but again he seemed concerned.
“Is that it?” she asked, feeling a flicker of concern in her chest as the snow continued to swirl all around them. “Is that why you're worried.”
“God almighty!” he said with a loud sigh, as he headed back to the cart and climbed into the driver's seat. “Is this how it's gonna be every night with you, girl? Lots of babbling about ghosts and things that go bump in the middle of the night? You're gonna do my head in at this rate, do you realize that?”
“You're the one who -”
“Let's get back to the terminal.”
“Sorry, it's just... I mean, you're the one who brought up the -”
“Get in!” Tom said firmly, momentarily losing his temper before leaning back with a sigh. “Let's change the subject, okay?” Reaching into his pocket, he took out a bottle of pills and quickly slipped one into the palm of his hand, swallowing it and then taking a swig from a water bottle. Putting the pill bottle away, he started the cart's engine. “Or would you rather walk back to the terminal building? And when we get there, you can do the rounds of the main hall yourself. I need a sit-down and a cup of tea in quiet after all your bleedin' questions.”
Not wanting to point out that he was the one who kept bringing up Old Eve and the stranger events at the airport, Casey climbed into the cart and stayed quiet as Tom began to drive them back toward the main building.
***
Sitting alone in the departure area's deserted cafe, Casey stared at her sandwich as she chewed the latest bite. She'd told Tom she wanted to take another look around, but in truth she'd found him to be particularly curmudgeonly and grumpy since their return from the hangar, and she'd decided to eat her mid-shift snack alone. So while Tom enjoyed a cup of tea in the control room, Casey was sitting in a corner of the cafe, looking out across the departure gates and trying to work out exactly why Tom kept bringing up the stories about Old Eve, even though he insisted they were nonsense.
A moment later, just as she took another bite from her sandwich, she realized she could hear a very faint fluttering sound coming from nearby. Turning, she looked in the direction of the sound, toward the duty free shops, and she listened as the fluttering continued. It was if something very light was continually brushing against a harder surface, almost like the fabric of a dress rubbing against a wall as somebody walked past. She told herself that it couldn't be that, of course, but now the idea had taken root in her mind.
She sat completely still for a moment, but the sound continued.
And continued.
Finally, Casey had no choice but to stand up and look over the balcony, staring down across the main atrium and at all the rows of empty seats that stretched out toward the departure gates. She waited for some hint of movement, for something that might give her a clue as to where the sound was coming from, but there was nothing to be seen. So she waited some more, still holding her sandwich but not taking another bite, and very slowly the hairs on the back of her neck began to stir. Almost as if someone or something was blowing on them.
Suddenly she turned, looking back across the cafe.
Again, she waited.
She wasn't a superstitious person by nature, but at that particular moment she was starting to feel very much as if she was being watched. Looking up at the nearest camera, she tried to remind herself that she was being watched, but only by the security system. Still, that thought didn't bring her much peace, and the hairs on the back of her neck were still rustling.
Finally she made her way out of the cafe, dumping her half-eaten sandwich in a bin along the way. Clattering down the escalator, which was switched off for the night, she eventually reached the ground floor and looked around, at which point she was finally able to tell that the fluttering sound was coming from somewhere off toward gates eleven to fifteen. She reached into her pocket and began to take out her phone, before thinking better of calling Tom. Sliding the phone back, she started making her way around the side of the perfume store, and then past the bookshop, until she reached the row of seats next to gate fourteen.
The same row where, on the previous night, she'd seen a woman sitting all alone.
“Hello?” she called out, peering at the doorway ahead, which led into a corridor that turned sharp right around a corner. The fluttering sound seemed to be coming from somewhere up there, just out of sight.
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She waited.
The fluttering continued.
“Come on,” she muttered under her breath, “give me a break.”
She took a deep breath, trying to get her head together.
“This is not going to happen again,” she said firmly, pronouncing the words very carefully, as if she was using them as a kind of mantra. “Get a grip on yourself, Casey. You are not a wuss.”
Making her way through the doorway, she glanced back to make sure that there was no sign of the woman from the previous night. Stepping past a large advertising poster offering three-for-two flights to the Bahamas, she looked along the next corridor and saw that something was shimmering near the floor, just a few meters away. She blinked a couple of times, before tilting her head slightly as she saw that a plastic carrier bag was caught in one of the air-conditioning grates. After walking over to take a closer look, she crouched down and watched the bag for a moment, listening to the furious fluttering sound. And then, finally, she took the bag and pulled it free, and the sound immediately stopped.
Reaching out, she held the back of her hand against the grate and found that it was drawing air from the corridor quite fast. Certainly fast enough to attract a plastic bag.
A faint smile of relief crossed her lips.
Sighing, she got to her feet and dropped the bag into the nearest bin, before turning and heading back the way she'd just come. As she passed the advertising board, she glanced out the window and saw planes parked on the dark tarmac. Her heart was racing, but the sight of the empty night sky seemed to calm her a little, helping her to get her heart-rate back under control. Stopping, she tried to let the peace and calm enter her body. For almost a full minute, she simply stood and looked out at the tarmac, and at the runway in the distance. At that particular moment, the world so very still.