The argument at the front of Dana’s checkout lane came to a boiling point. The customer with the declined credit card reached across the register and grabbed the cashier by her smock before slapping her across the face. When the two separated, the customer grabbed her cart and charged for the front exit. “Stop her, she didn’t pay,” the cashier cried out as the customer pressed forward.
The crowds of waiting customers watched the non-paying customer carry on, thrusting her cart towards the front door. When another employee tried to stop her, she pushed the cart into him, knocking him over.
All of the irate customers surrounding Dana began to look at one another, and then at their carts. A second customer cut out of the line he was waiting in, ran forward, and zoomed out into the parking lot with his unpaid items.
One by one, customers started charging towards the front exit of the store without paying. It started slowly, with only a trickle of customers brazen enough to commit theft. Soon, however, droves of agitated customers stampeded out of the grocery store. With police nowhere in sight and the Shop-and-Save employees greatly outnumbered, there was nothing standing in the way of those who refused to pay.
Dana was being shoved and knocked in all different directions as the customers around her stormed out of the store. She took a moment to think about what to do, but when a push from behind her struck her so hard that she nearly fell over, the decision was easy. Dana pulled her scarf up over her face then joined the crowd around her as they fled from the store.
Dana felt claustrophobic and overwhelmed as she crammed her way through the front exit, shoulder to shoulder with crazed shoppers on either side of her.
When finally she broke free, she hurried forward, dodging cars and shoppers as she rushed to her parking spot on the outer edge of the parking lot.
With her Prius in sight, Dana pulled out her keys. She clicked a button and the trunk of her car unlatched. She pulled her shopping cart beside her car and tossed her loose groceries into the back.
“Husband’s waitin’ for ya, huh?” a voice asked from behind Dana.
Dana ignored the voice and quickly finished flinging the last of her groceries into the trunk of her car. Once she was done, she slammed it shut then paced towards the driver’s door.
“Hey now, missy,” Earl beckoned. He rested a meaty, sweaty hand on her shoulder. “Somethin’ tells me you didn’t pay for those groceries.”
Dana spun around at Earl’s touch.
“Come on, let’s go back to my place, before the po-po git’chu for shoplifting.” Earl raised his eyebrows and ran his tongue across his lower lip.
“No thank you,” Dana said in a firm tone. She clutched her keys in her hand. Her heart begin to race and her palms turned slippery with sweat.
“But I insist,” Earl said slowly. His eyes flickered.
“I’ll be fine,” Dana said weakly, before swallowing hard. “Please.” She thought of the small canister of mace tucked in her back pocket.
Earl let out a long sigh. “Listen, bitch. Stop breaking my balls.” He slowly pulled up his sweatshirt, revealing the wood grip handle of the revolver tucked inside his waistband. “Now give me your keys and let’s go—”
Before the assailant could finish his sentence, a powerful burst exploded overhead. Dana and her attacker both looked up and tried to focus their eyes on the orangey blur streaking lowly through the overcast sky.
Dana quickly snapped her eyes forward and noticed that her aggressor was still fixated on the bright orb sailing through the sky above them. Without a second more of hesitation, Dana dropped her keys and grabbed her fathers hunting knife from her front pocket. In one smooth, fluid motion, Dana jerked the knife from her pants and flicked it open. She took a deep breath, raised her hand, and plunged the knife deep into Earl’s neck.
Earl let out a horrific, agonizing growl, grabbed at his collar, and fell forward on his knees. Dana yanked the knife from Earl’s neck, and though it was still oily with blood, she folded it and returned it to her front pocket. Earl dropped flat onto the ground. Trembling. Howling.
Dana kneeled down over her would-be attacker, pulled up his sweatshirt and then tugged on his waistband. He smelled acrid and un-showered—almost like spoiled cheese. Trying her best not to gag, Dana grabbed the revolver tucked in Earl’s waistband, then stood back up. Once standing, she stuffed the gun into her front coat pocket.
She looked peacefully up at the sky, ignoring the whimpers of the man between her feet and the sound of a police siren rushing towards her. She tried to find the gleaming object that just seconds ago illuminated the dark sky above. It was gone now, and there was nothing between the clouds except the faint, smoky trail that it left behind.
THIRTEEN
The jumbo 757 descended smoothly through the sky and made its final approach for Heathrow. Captain Roy Hurley was pleased with the time it took for the transatlantic flight to complete. Thanks to a favorable jet stream current, the flight from New York to London was thirty-five minutes shorter than average.
Beside Captain Hurley was his co-captain, Russell Cooper, and seated behind them was their auxiliary pilot, Glenn Sloan. Once the flight was complete, Captain Hurley would exit the aircraft and enjoy a nice relaxing night in his room at a Travelodge just outside London. Following the assigned rotation, Russell would assume command as Captain, and Glenn would take responsibility as co-captain. A third pilot would board in London—a fellow named Zahir Barrett, if the schedule chart in the cabin was to be believed—and Barret would fly back to the states as the auxiliary pilot.
Captain Hurley gave a nudge to Russell, and then pointed behind their seats with his thumb. Glenn had fallen into such a deep sleep in the final hour of the flight that he had started to snore obnoxiously. Russell reached behind and slapped Glenn’s knee, startling him out of his sleep. Glenn sprung forward in his seat and scanned the cabin, then wiped a blob of drool from his chin with his sleeve.
Russell couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t uncommon for the auxiliary pilot—technically known as the in-flight engineer—to doze off during transatlantic crossings. The position wasn’t even mandated by any laws or regulations, but rather the role was implemented so that their employer, Oceanic Airlines, could brag at annual shareholder meetings about how much their airline was a cut above the competition.
The rubber tires of the 757 touched down without incident, then slowly taxied to a stop at a nearby loading gate. In the cabin of the plane, passengers began to stir. Captain Hurley picked up the airplane’s intercom, wished all of his passengers a happy stay in London, and thanked them for flying Oceanic. For the duration of the captain’s short speech, Russell mocked him silently, pantomiming the pilot’s facial gestures. Russell and Roy had flown together for years, and their work relationship had gradually turned into a friendship, the nature of which allowed for a frat boy playfulness between the two that Roy wouldn’t have tolerated with anyone else.
Captain Hurley stood up and stretched his legs. When the nine flight attendants on board had emptied out the cabin of the plane, he exited the cockpit.
“You two have a safe flight back home,” Captain Hurley wished. “Oh, and Sloan, I know you haven’t worked with Cooper before so be careful—he can get a little touchy feely.”
With that, Captain Hurley left, leaving Russell and Glenn alone in the cockpit.
“I’m sorry about that, sir,” Glenn mumbled nervously.
“For what, the sleeping?” Russell asked.
“Yes, sir, I—”
“Hey, cut the ‘yes, sir’ crap right now. I’m not that formal. When I used to work auxiliary I nodded off constantly. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve slept my way across the Atlantic Ocean.”
“Is that so, sir—I mean…”
“For the rest of this flight you’ll refer to me as Russell, understand?” Russell said. He smacked Glenn jokingly on the shoulder. “Not as ‘sir’ and definitely not as ‘Mr. Cooper.’ Mr. Cooper’s my father, and I am n
ot my father.”
Glenn smiled and stood up with a nod.
“Go ahead, go take a piss, or whatever you have to do,” Russell instructed. “They’ll be done refueling soon and before you know it we’ll be boarding again. Get a coffee. Take a walk.”
Glenn nodded and ducked out of the small doorframe leading to the cabin of the aircraft. A few moments later, a striking, grinning brunette peeked into the cockpit.
“Renee,” Russell said, returning the smile as he looked up from a clipboard. “Are you my in-flight entertainment?”
Renee’s emerald eyes lit up. “Are you off once we’re back in New York?”
“For two whole days,” Russell said. “And yourself?”
“What a coincidence, I’ve got all of next week off.”
“Is that so?” Russell asked. He surveyed all five feet of the slim flight attendant with hungry eyes. “Well, how about after we land, we go over to my place and spend the next forty-eight hours going over every square inch of—”
Before he was able to finish his thought, Russell noticed Glenn standing behind Renee in the cockpit doorway. He held two Styrofoam cups.
“Oh, Jesus,” Russell said, pressing a palm against his forehead.
“I brought coffee,” Glenn offered with a nervous laugh.
“Thank you so much Glenn, really, but Miss Renee here typically brings me my coffee. Personally.”
Glenn, not taking the hint, wormed his way back into the cockpit.
“Well. I’ll leave you two to your preparations, Captain,” Renee said with a flirtatious smile.
Russell climbed out of his seat and offered it to Glenn. As Russell exited the cabin, he turned to his co-pilot. “The snoring thing? That was cute. But being a cock block? You’re starting to annoy me, Sloan,” and with that Russell took off for the passenger’s cabin.
Renee was in the flight attendant quarters stocking a cart and making her preflight rounds when Russell approached her. He had nearly put one hand on her waist when a bubbly blond appeared from the curtain behind Renee.
“Russell!” the tall attendant cheered. She gave the captain a quick hug and a peck on each cheek. “So good to work with you today!”
“Great to work with you, too, Sam,” Russell said half-heartedly.
Russell stepped aside from the two attendants and made his way to a lavatory. Renee mouthed to him, “I guess it isn’t meant to be.”
Samantha leaned against a cabinet. “Did I interrupt something?”
Renee shook her head in disdain.
“Oh, please. If I’m not getting any, neither are you,” Samantha said with a laugh. She opened a cabinet door and shuffled around some plastic cups.
“That’s going to change when we get to New York,” Renee quipped back with a smirk.
Captain Russell stepped out of the lavatory and made his return to the front of the plane alongside Renee, so that the two could greet each passenger as they boarded.
“How much longer?” Russell asked.
“About ten minutes before we start boarding. We’ll be ready for takeoff in about thirty.” Renee grinned and adjusted her skirt.
In no time at all the cabin of the aircraft began filling with passengers. Captain Russell and Renee smiled and greeted each traveller, welcoming them aboard. When the last passenger had boarded, Russell returned to the cockpit. Glenn was hard at work making final preparations as Zahir began strapping himself in.
“Bennet, is it?” Russell asked, extending a hand to Zahir.
“Yes, sir—”
“Nope, number one rule of my flights are that you call me Russell,” the captain insisted.
“Not a problem,” Zahir replied.
“Ah,” Russell said as he gave Zahir a firm pat on the shoulder. “You see this, Sloan? Zahir gets it. You should take some notes.”
Behind the cockpit, Renee stood at the front of the plane and made her passengers aware of the now lit fasten seat belt sign. She instructed them to make sure that their carry on luggage was put away and to turn off any electronic devices.
After the flight attendants had finished their routine spiels on safety and emergency preparedness, Renee gave a light knock on the cockpit door to signal to the captain that the flight crew was ready for takeoff.
“OCA 116 to tower, we are ready for takeoff,” Russell said into his radio.
“Copy OCA 116, hold short of active runway, wait for takeoff orders,” a crackled voice replied through the radio. A moment later the voice returned. “OCA 116 cleared for takeoff.”
Captain Russell said, “Roger, switching to departure frequency,” then coolly taxied towards the runway. Once in position, Glenn and himself throttled the colossal aircraft forward and took off into the golden sky ahead of them.
The first leg of the journey had been routine and uneventful. To fill the dead air, Russell tried to make small talk with Barrett and Sloan.
“What made you boys want to be pilots?” Russell asked. He didn’t know either of the young men as well as he knew Captain Hurley.
Barrett was the first to respond. “My father was a pilot in the Royal Air Force. Suppose it’s in me blood, yeah?”
Russell nodded with a grin. “You two get along?”
“Along enough, I guess.”
“That’s good, that’s good,” Russell said. His head kept bobbing but his smile faded. “I was never supposed to be a pilot. And I hear it every time I go home.”
“How’s that?” Barrett asked.
“My father’s a doctor. Used to be a surgeon, until old age caught up,” Russell said. The pilot held his hands up and stretched his fingers. “Arthritis.”
“Pops wanted you to follow in his footsteps?” Barrett said.
“I guess so,” Russell said with a sigh. “But ever since I was a youngster I wanted to fly.”
Meanwhile, in the rear of the plane, Renee began her ten-minute break with Samantha in the flight attendant quarters. The passengers, for the most part, were quiet and not at all needy. Many of them dozed off as the aircraft started the last half of its journey. There was no scenery to look at other than mile after mile of endless ocean that passed beneath them. Sleep came naturally.
Renee played with her phone, an activity that was usually a major violation of in-flight rules. But, with Russell at the helm, she knew she could get away with it. She would often connect to the plane’s Wi-Fi and play random opponents online at Sudoku or word puzzles. It helped to pass the time during long and boring transatlantic flights.
“The bald guy in 29 is being a real charmer,” Samantha said, and she poured herself a cup of coffee. “Be careful, I think he tried to grab my ass.”
Renee laughed. “You think everyone tries to grab your ass.”
“For real, Renee. I leaned over to pick up a napkin I dropped—a napkin I was handing him, that of course he couldn’t be bothered to get for himself—and he reached out like some disgusting toddler.”
“All right, all right, I’ll be careful,” Renee giggled, and she swiped her fingers across the glass screen of her phone. A notification popped up at the top of her screen that simply read “Important News Alert.”
“Have you seen this?” Renee asked, worriedly.
“Seen what?” Samantha said. She took a sip of her coffee.
“They’re evacuating New York.”
“What? That’s crazy.”
“Really, they are. The National Guard is patrolling the city and conducting a massive evacuation.”
“Renee,” Samantha laughed. “Are you on one of those satire news sites? You have to be smart with those kinds of things.”
Renee thrust her phone into Samantha’s hands, angered that her coworker wasn’t taking the situation more seriously. Samantha read the bright display of the phone with one hand, her coffee cup in the other.
“This must be some sort of mistake,” Samantha said, shaking her head. “We would have never taken off if there was some kind of emergency evacuation in New York. They woul
d have grounded us.”
Renee looked at the face of the delicate silver watch wrapped around her wrist. A gift from Russell. “We were in the air for almost two hours before the evacuation started. Maybe they just wanted us to cross and land,” Renee wondered out loud.
“Hm,” Samantha said, and she handed the phone back to Renee. “I don’t think so. We would have circled back and touched down in Ireland, at the very least. Don’t you think? Remember two summers ago…God, what was it? There was a gas leak. We spent eight hours grounded in Belfast. Maybe you weren’t there. All I know is Irish food is terrible.”
“I should let Rus—Captain Cooper know,” Renee said.
Samantha said, “You’re not the pilot. Let the flyboys worry about it. I’m sure they know more about what’s going on than you do from some Internet blog. Besides, I know your boy-toy is cool with you playing on your fancy phone, but what would the new auxiliary guy think if you strolled into the cockpit and admitted you’ve been browsing the web—”
“Renee?” A voice crackled through a speaker above the crew’s microwave. “Can you bring the boys and me a few orange juices and waters? And an antacid, too. Thanks.”
“Right away, Captain,” Renee answered. She tugged at her skirt and readjusted her uniform. “Speak of the devil.”
“Need a hand?” Samantha asked as Renee bent down and filled a tray with small boxes of orange juice and itty-bitty water bottles.
“I’ve got this one,” Renee said. She picked up the tray and walked to the front of the airliner.
When she arrived at the cockpit, Zahir opened the door to allow her in. She handed the beverages out until the only items left on the tray were two wrapped antacids.
“And who are these for?” Renee said.
Russell reached out his hand. Renee unwrapped each tablet and placed them delicately in the captain’s palm. Russell chewed the chalky tablets and swallowed, then followed them with a hard gulp of water. He pulled at the collar of his uniform and loosened his tie just slightly.
“Haven’t felt good since dinner with my folks yesterday,” Russell said with a snicker.
The Hours Page 13