Victim's, Inc.

by A. R. Licht

  “No, I just wanted to stop in and review the footage, would that be alright?”

  “Want me to show you how?”

  “That’d be great. By the way, why are you here if we don’t have work?”

  “I do freelance sometimes, I like to hang around just in case something comes up.”

  “Gotta pay those bills.”

  “I want to get the shot that gets me noticed for bigger and better things. You can’t get that shot if you’re not here.”

  Waylon led her down the hall, past the offices and desks to the studio where the anchors sit. It

  is in use as they pass through so they had to be quiet.

  “Here we are,” Waylon said, flipping on the lights in a room with five TV monitors and

  equipment used in editing and splicing.

  He gave her a rundown on how the controls work, then showed her where to find all of the b-rolls and footage from their time in Alkin.

  “Is there anything in particular that you wanted to look at?”

  “Cynthia Patterson’s interview. Oh, and the moment when it was announced that the shooters

  were dead.”

  He selected the clips and brought them onscreen.

  She sat through the afternoon, pouring over the raw uncut footage. She wasn’t sure what she was

  looking for, maybe she was just reliving the moment and criticizing her word choices. She liked

  the lipstick though, it gave her an edge she didn’t have before.

  High Flower restaurant was busy as she walked in, dressed in a short black dress with red heels. She wore her hair in a knot with tendrils falling down. She smiled as she hugged her mom and dad, then Abby, finally Brian. She wasn’t expecting there to be a sixth member of the party, and worse yet it was Phil.

  They awkwardly shook hands, then he leaned in to kiss her cheek, but, kissed air instead.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you, you look good yourself,” Kate said.

  “It’s been a while,” Phil said.

  “Our table is ready,” Abby said, pulling Kate toward her, in a lower voice she said, “I’m so sorry, Brian wanted him to come. You know how close they are.”

  “Its okay,” Kate said. But it wasn’t okay. It was dredging up all of those old emotions that she

  thought she’d been able to let go of. He looked debonair in his suit, his hair just the way she

  remembered it. Her fingers ached to touch it.

  They sat at a u-shaped table that curved around a hot stove top where the cook puts on a show as

  he prepares your order right in front of you.

  They made small talk until they’d eaten the main course, then, the questions turned to Kate and

  her experiences.

  “I loved watching your interview with Cody Cooper’s parents, that was really something,” Phil

  said.

  Kate felt her cheeks grow warm. She hadn’t thought about him watching her. “That was the turning point for me. It was the moment I realized that this is what I want to do

  with my life.”

  “It showed. You handled it well,” Phil said, polishing off his beer. He had a five o’clock shadow growing in with just the right roughness. How do people remain friends after they’ve been intimate, and have to learn how to live without their best friend?

  “Thank you,” Kate said.

  Abby seemed tired, Kate rested her hand on the growing belly.

  “Have you figured out what you are going to name her yet?”

  “No. I think we want to meet her first,” Abby said.

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “I think he misses you.”

  “Who?” Kate said.

  “Who do you think? Phil.”

  “Nah. He is just trying to worm his way back in again so we can be in air quotes, friends.”

  “He asks about you a lot.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since always.”

  “I didn’t expect it to hurt seeing him again.”

  “Maybe you should try hanging out with him more.”

  “That’s the last thing I need right now,” Kate said.

  Chapter 9

  Bend, Oregon - April 11th

  The call came at three a.m., Ann telling her to catch the next flight out to Bend, Oregon, the site

  of a commercial plane crash. As she boarded the plane, she hoped she wouldn’t meet the same

  fate.

  Waylon picked her up at the small airport and drove her out to the site. The fumes assaulted her a

  mile away with the windows of the van down. The closer they came to the broken wreckage and flames, she hadn’t expected the smoke to suffocate like that.

  Ann is waiting for her when they pull up. “Hurry! We go live in twelve minutes. Go find out

  everything you can. I have been stuck with the van.”

  Waylon left her alone to go prepare his equipment. A wave of fear backed by adrenaline makes her feel jittery. She takes a moment to look out at the valley below the crest of the hill

  they are stationed on.

  The plane had hit earth, crumpling, folding upon itself as its momentum carried it downhill

  until it came to a stop in a creek bed. It appears to have exploded as it slid, debris of plane parts

  and luggage everywhere. Just being near something that seems to throb with death shrouded by the black oil fumes set her on edge.

  She scanned the crowd for someone in charge, like the man with the clipboard in Alkin. She saw

  someone that wore the uniform of an airline official, but was stopped ten feet away by a man dressed in bright reflective yellow.

  “Excuse me, ma’am but no one is allowed past this point.”

  “I’m media, I need to speak with that man down there.”

  “I don’t care who you are, no one goes past this point.”

  “But I need to talk to someone in charge. How am I supposed to get information on what is going

  on?”

  “There’s going to be a press conference in five minutes, you can ask your questions then.”

  “Oh, thanks. I didn’t hear about that, I just got here.”

  “No problem.”

  Kate returned to the van and relayed the conference time to Ann who looked relieved. “I’m glad.

  I was stuck with the van and couldn’t get out there past that guard to talk to anyone in charge.

  "Once again, Kate, you got lucky.”

  “I’m your lucky charm.”

  “You may well be. Hey, I thought I told you not to wear that lipstick. Go wipe it off.”

  “I like it,” Kate said and left the van before Ann could say anything more.

  “The gang’s all here,” Waylon said as she joined him in front of the van.

  “CNL, OSB, NNN. All the big guys,” Kate said.

  “Your new buddy, Sienna, is with CNL and she ranks number one, but you’re number two. Don’t

  forget that,” Waylon said.

  “Someone pays attention.”

  “Don’t get snippy with me.”

  “Sorry, I’m just tired. Doesn’t this make you feel like you’re in a war zone?” Kate said, her hand

  sweeping over the scorched earth and bits of clothes. She squinted at something a group of fire

  fighters were huddled around and realized that it might actually be a body part.

  “No. Lets get over to the microphones they just set up, okay?”

  Kate trailed behind him, looking for Sienna. She has so much to learn from her, she wanted

  to see what she was up to.

  “At this time,” an official says over the microphone, “we know that there are no survivors of

  flight 18223. Including our flight crew and all of the passengers onboard, there are one-hundred-

  and-fourteen casualties. We can tell you that flight 18223 took off from the Portland PDX airport

  and had been en-route to
LAX in California. It departed at 1:30 in the a.m. and half an hour later

  lost contact with flight control. We are still searching for the black box, which will help us

  determine exactly what happened.

  “We are certain at this point that the crash itself was not caused by a bomb or terrorist attack, but

  that is all that we are aware of at this time. I’d like to open up for a few questions.”

  Sienna’s voice rose above the rest, “You can confirm that everyone onboard is dead?”

  The official nodded, “Yes.”

  Burt Campfy, a correspondent Kate recognized from OSB shouted, “Was it a terrorist attack?”

  “No, it was not a terrorist attack.”

  Rob Owens from NNN asked, “Was it a pilot error?”

  “I’m sorry, we don’t know at this time.”

  “Did the plane fly off course?” Kate shouted. A few heads turned to look at her, the new voice on

  the scene.

  The official looks pained before answering, “We don’t know at this time.”

  Sienna again, “Have you notified the families?”

  “Only a few of the families have been notified, but we are not releasing names at this time. That

  is all, thank you.”

  The official stepped down and rushed away. Someone shouted another question about

  manufacturer error but no one was there to answer.

  Ann taps her shoulder and she leans down a little to hear what the woman has to say. “Better make this good. Everyone else has the same information you do.” She turned and walked back to the van.

  With five minutes to spare, Kate is feeling desperate. A guard is standing nearby. She can see what appears to be family members huddled together in the distance, but there is no time to try to reach them.

  She notices a man hovering near the microphones, he is wearing a similar uniform as the official

  that gave out the small amount of information moments ago. She approaches him.

  “Hi, there. I’m Kate.”

  “Hey. The name's Wiley.”

  They shake hands, and she smiled, “Like Wiley Coyote?”

  “That’s the running joke.”

  “What do you do here?” Kate asked, thinking that the man would be perfect on camera. He is an

  attractive older man with salt and pepper hair and wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Oh, I investigate plane crashes. But, honey, we can’t be talking about this one,” Wiley said.

  Her heart sinks, but only for a moment. She has an idea.

  “What can we talk about?”

  “I can tell you the best place to sit on a plane in the event of a crash.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Sure,” Wiley grins and winks.

  “Would you be willing to talk on camera? I go live in two minutes.”

  “Sure, hon.”

  She positions Wiley near the van but Ann shakes her head and points out toward the wreckage.

  “But there are body parts out there,” Kate said.

  “Even better.”

  Waylon is pointing at her, doing his ritual count down. She pulls Wiley over and positions him

  with the smoldering plane as the backdrop and takes stock of herself. The wind has picked up,

  whipping her hair into her face. How do the other reporters deal with that?

  The smoke is billowing, the wind fanning the fires. Burned out seats and a broken iPad catches

  her eye. Then she sees the blood. Smears of it on broken windows and a streak in the dirt, the

  pool drying quickly, turning to rust. The awful whiff of excrement is carried by the wind burst. What a contrast between Alkin and here.

  Here, she feels the weight of death settle on her, working its way under her skin.

  Ann mouths, “Make it good.”

  Kate nods, and Waylon reaches one. She is live.

  “Kate Miller, reporting live from Bend, Oregon. Have recent plane crashes affected your decision to fly? You can see behind me the catastrophic end for flight 18223. A flight that began early this morning in Portland, Oregon that went horribly wrong for the passengers on board. There isn't much left in the wake of the rubble where family members huddle behind me in the hopes of finding their loved one and being able to identify them so they may bring them home to bury.

  “In the aftermath of the loss of one-hundred-and-fourteen souls aboard the plane, including the pilots and crew members, I have crash investigator Wiley here with me to discuss the safest place to sit in the event of a plane crash. Thank you for joining us Wiley."

  “Sure.”

  Kate notices that the man looks nervous, almost embarrassed.

  “When we spoke moments ago, you mentioned to me that you had a nugget of wisdom to share with us. Where is the safest place to sit on an airplane during a crash?”

  Wiley clears his throat and in a small voice said, “In my lap.”

  Kate’s mouth drops open for a moment before she remembers that she is live. This guy has just

  made a fool out of her. Ann must be happy as a dog with a new toy.

  She recovers, and manages a polite laugh. “That was a good joke. You got me!”

  Wiley brightens and laughs nervously, “But the best place is the back of the plane because it hits

  last.”

  Kate cringes at the poor taste of the man's jokes, thinking of the body parts strewn out there behind her, the scorched scent of burnt fabric, melted metal, chemicals, and possibly burned human flesh a vivid reminder of what has brought the emergency crews together.

  “But everyone wants first class,” Wiley said, his words fizzling out toward the end of the

  sentence.

  “Some people are nervous on camera, and that is perfectly understandable. I put poor Wiley here

  on the spot.”

  “It’s alright,” Wiley said, seeming to appreciate the out she’d given him.

  “Is there a place that might prove safest in the event of a plane crash?” Kate tried again.

  “Well, crashes are rare, but if one does happen you’ll want to be near an exit. Those emergency

  exits are your best bet because when the smoke fills the cabin you won’t spend precious time

  searching for a way out.”

  Kate nods solemnly and thanks Wiley for his help. “Great information to keep in mind next time

  you fly. As Wiley, a plane crash investigator, has reminded us that crashes such as this are rare.

  Our hearts go out to the family of the passengers and flight crew.”

  When the broadcast is over and she can breathe again, Kate heads back to the van where Waylon

  is putting away the camera.

  “Nice job,” he said when he caught sight of her.

  “I didn’t know how to handle him. That was crazy.”

  “You know, the only reason he talked to you was because your blouse is unbuttoned.”

  “What?”

  Kate looks down and gives a yelp. Waylon laughs.

  “I was like this on national television? You didn’t tell me?”

  “I got your back, girl. Calm down. I only filmed from your shoulders up.”

  Kate let out a pent up breath and play-punched his arm, “You’re one of the good ones.”

  “Yeah, well, wait until you watch it back, he was staring at your ta-tas the whole time.”

  “Was it that bad?”

  “No, but the wind kept giving us a glimpse of that lacy black bra.”

  Sienna makes her way over and congratulates Kate on her broadcast. “Girl, I wasn’t sure where

  you were taking that for a moment. And that perverted old man! That was gold! You are stealing

  my ratings.”

  Kate laughed and thanked her. “According to Waylon, the only reason I got the interview was

  because he is a perv.”

  “Well, you have that sex appeal. I see you’ve been wearing that lipstick. I�
�ll bet your boss loves

  it.”

  Kate shrugged and looked away.

  “So, wanna know what Bend is good for?” Sienna said.

  “Skiing?”

  “Drinking. They have the best brewery in the country. Want to go catch a drink with me?”

  “Only if they have a pool table.”

  “I think they do.”

  “Can Waylon come?” Kate said, knowing he was listening in.