Jason took the copilot’s seat while they were talking, and paid no attention to either of them. He checked some of the equipment and gauges, and then started texting. As she watched him, Helen had the feeling that she was flying with a giant spoiled brat for their flight home. He was young and cocky, and his arrogance annoyed her, although she didn’t show it.
After chatting with Connor, she made her initial checks, called the tower about their flight plan, and was satisfied that everything was in order. She thought it was a good thing that they had accommodated the passengers with two flights, instead of leaving half of them stranded when the A380 couldn’t fly. The second flight was boarding at the same time. Helen was pleased to have the A321. It was a recent model and enjoyable to fly. The 757 was an older plane, and not as comfortable for the passengers. And she’d been told by air traffic control that the weather looked good all the way across the country.
She looked at both men with a broad smile. She was in her element. “Well, gentlemen, it looks like we’re going to have a nice, easy ride home.” Connor nodded, and she could see the sadness in his eyes. Jason looked straight at her and held her gaze for a long moment as though challenging her, shrugged, and went back to texting. Helen started the engines then, made an announcement to the passengers that they’d be pushing back from the gate shortly, and assured them of a smooth flight to San Francisco and possibly an early arrival. She had a feeling it was going to be a very nice day. It was off to a good start.
Chapter Two
Bernice watched the passengers for both San Francisco flights file through security after the crew. There were flights leaving for all over the country, and she noticed the last passengers in a hurry to get to their planes.
There was a young father with a baby who looked totally disorganized. He was juggling a diaper bag that had clothes pouring out of it, several bottles and sippy cups, a teddy bear, disposable diapers, and a pacifier in his hand. He had another bag with his computer. He dropped his cellphone twice. And he looked as though he wasn’t used to managing a baby on his own.
There was a couple arguing while they put their sweaters and shoes in plastic bins and made nasty comments to each other. And a well-dressed, somewhat uptight-looking businesswoman with a large briefcase, who appeared to be about forty years old and seemed as though she could run the world. Bernice could see that she was anxious, despite her competent corporate look. She had well-cut blond hair and was wearing an expensive beige suit and high heels. Bernice could easily imagine her going straight to a meeting of some kind. She snapped at two of the TSA agents that they were going to make her miss her flight if they didn’t hurry up when they checked her briefcase. Bernice smiled to her only friend at work as the woman went through and headed toward the gates for San Francisco.
“That one’s a nervous flier for sure!” Bernice said in a whisper.
“How do you know?” Della asked her. She’d only worked there for a year. She was small and round, and passengers like the businesswoman always intimidated her. Bernice had seen it all a thousand times in the last five years.
“The nervous fliers always act like that,” she said coolly, “then they get on the flight and get drunk or take a Xanax.” Both young women laughed, after they had watched the well-dressed blonde grab her briefcase, shove her computer into it, grab her cellphone, put on her shoes, and hurry toward the gate for her flight. It was early in the morning and she already looked stressed.
There were a large number of businessmen who were obviously experienced travelers, and went through security without a problem. As they watched them head for the San Francisco gate, Della commented to Bernice that it would be a good flight to catch a man. She had been looking to meet someone for a while, after breaking up with her boyfriend. But the men she was talking about were all too old for her, as Bernice pointed out, and shook her head.
“Look at their left hands,” Bernice said. “Wedding rings. They’re all married.” She was a pro at assessing passengers.
“Maybe they cheat,” Della said hopefully.
“Oh, there’s a dream come true, a married guy cheating on his wife. I’ll pass on that,” Bernice said without regret.
“Maybe they’d divorce their wives,” she commented naïvely.
“No, thank you.” Bernice turned away to find herself in the direct field of vision of their supervisor, who was scowling at them, as usual.
“Now, there’s a woman who desperately needs to get laid,” Della whispered, and the two of them tried not to laugh.
Five minutes after the nervous woman in the expensive suit and high heels, Bernice noticed a Middle-Eastern-looking couple taking off their shoes and putting them in the bins, with their computers. They were a pleasant, quiet man and a simply dressed young woman, somewhere in their twenties, and Bernice watched them, as she had everyone else. The woman was wearing a head scarf with a long gray cotton coat covering her clothes. He was in jeans, they both had on running shoes like most travelers their age, and he was carrying a leather backpack. She noticed Bernice looking at them and smiled at her, and the man seemed in a hurry to catch their flight then and was rushing his wife along. Bernice was still watching hand luggage pass through the X-ray when they collected their belongings on the other side, and sped off toward the first San Francisco gate.
Earlier, there had been a group of about fourteen girls who were part of a girls’ chorus from Queens, and their heavyset blond chaperone kept shrieking their names in a high-pitched voice and threatening to call their parents. They said they were going to San Francisco for a performance and had won a competition, and the girls looked to be a range of ages from about nine to fifteen. They were all wearing sweatshirts that identified them as from their chorus. They were far better behaved than their chaperone, who got in an argument with a TSA agent about cosmetics she had brought with her that were in bottles over the size limit, and had to be taken from her. She wrote down the agent’s name and said she would report her. There was always someone like that. But the girls were having fun, laughing and squealing and teasing each other.
They watched two children with their tearful mother then, handing them over to a ground agent to fly unaccompanied on the flight. She put ribbons around their necks with badges on them, which identified them as unaccompanied minors. The ground agent looked desperate to get away from the mother before she fell apart completely, after she had kissed them ten times. The little boy and girl were much less upset than she was, and they waved as they went through security, and then disappeared toward the gate as their mother sobbed, and Bernice said a kind word to her.
“I know that must be hard,” she said gently. “But they’ll be fine. They’ll have a great time on the flight. They can watch movies.”
“They’re only six and eight and this is the first time I’ve ever sent them anywhere alone. They’re going to see my parents, I just got divorced,” she said and lost it. “My husband left me.” Bernice handed her some tissues, and the woman thanked her.
“I have a six-year-old son too,” Bernice volunteered as though it gave her credibility.
“Then you know how tough this is.” The woman couldn’t stop crying, and Bernice felt sorry for her.
“They’ll be fine,” Bernice repeated gently, and the woman finally left. As soon as she did, Denise, her supervisor, sidled up to her with a look of displeasure.
“Always kissing ass on someone, aren’t you, Adams?” she said nastily, and Bernice shrugged and walked away. She had long since given up trying to reason with her, or win her over, or get a fair shake from her. She never did. The woman hated her and there was nothing she could do about it.
There was a lull then, after the early flights took off, that would get people to other cities in time for lunch or meetings that day. The two San Francisco flights were due to land at 11 A.M. and 11:20 A.M. Pacific time. Bernice had nothing to do, so she went to
stack the empty plastic bins on a cart, where the next wave of passengers could grab them easily, and the whole process would start again. Although the people were always different, the routine was still the same. She was stacking the containers, thinking about the homework she had to do that night, when she noticed a large postcard, a photo of the Golden Gate Bridge, that had been left in one of the bins. She picked it up, and when she turned it over, someone had scrawled across the whole back of the card, “You will remember me forever!” It sounded more like an order than a statement. It didn’t sound romantic, like a message from a lover, but there was nothing unusual about the card. She assumed it had slipped out of someone’s coat or purse or briefcase going through the X-ray machine, and it had been forgotten in the bin. She picked it up to throw it away and walked over to the trash can, and something stopped her as she looked at it again, and noticed that the word “forever” was heavily underlined. There was something so emphatic about it, but maybe it was a love note of some kind, after a particularly memorable night or weekend. She was going to put it in the trash, and then slipped it into a drawer instead. She didn’t know why, but she felt as though she should save it, although that didn’t make much sense. There was nothing remarkable about it, and it wasn’t a threat. She got busy doing other things then and forgot about it.
She pushed the cart of empty bins to the head of the line, and the postcard slipped her mind as things got busy again, and she stood there telling people to take off their shoes and take their computers out of their bags and place them in the bins. One thing she didn’t like about her job was having to repeat herself all day long, and how annoyed people got when they didn’t like what she said.
* * *
—
When the Muslim couple handed in their boarding cards at the gate, they were told to step aside and wait for a moment. The young man looked surprised and displeased, and the woman said something to calm him down, while he grumbled that they would miss their flight.
“They’re singling us out!” he said unhappily, as the agent walked away.
“You don’t know that, Ahmad,” his wife, Sadaf, told him calmly. “And can you blame them? It’s safer for all of us if they’re careful and check everyone out.” He looked seriously annoyed to have to wait as a ground agent returned.
“I have good news,” the ground agent announced to them, with a smile that nothing could dampen, even the dissatisfied-looking customer. “Coach is oversold on your flight, because of the change of aircraft. We’re moving some people up to business class, and we’ve upgraded you, free of charge.” She beamed as though she were telling them they’d won the lottery. The man looked hesitant and conferred in a whisper with his wife, who appeared to scold him in response, and then she turned to the ground agent politely.
“Thank you, we accept.” She took the two new boarding passes they were offered, and they walked down the jetway to the plane, still speaking quietly to each other. They had been polite during the entire exchange, but he continued to look ill at ease once they found their seats, and sat down looking as though he was sulking. They noticed that the door to the cockpit was open, and glanced past first class with interest, as the woman across the aisle from them in the beige business suit suddenly noticed them. Catherine James was the woman who Bernice had guessed correctly was a nervous flier, and they both could read on her face that she was now convinced there were terrorists on the plane. At that exact moment, a flight attendant walked past them with a tray of orange juice and glasses of champagne. Catherine James grabbed two of the champagnes and drained them both with a look of panic. The young couple politely declined both juice and wine, as the husband finally began to relax. The seats were comfortable, they were seated together, and there was a movie screen in front of each of them. The woman looked delighted at their good luck to be upgraded, and he smiled too.
Catherine James stopped staring at them then, and noticed that the man seated next to her was scrutinizing her, and she looked embarrassed.
“I don’t normally drink at this hour,” she said uncomfortably. “I’m a nervous flier,” she explained. The man observing her was wearing a business suit and a tie, had paid for a WiFi connection, and was already sending emails, which encouraged her to take her computer out too. The champagne had made her feel calm enough to think about work. Her seatmate didn’t say a word to her in response, and he wondered if he was going to be next to a hysterical drunk for the entire flight. It wasn’t a cheering prospect, he had work to do.
She glanced at him repeatedly, and he finally said something to her.
“This is one of the safest planes in the sky,” he assured her, and she looked unconvinced.
And with that, a steward came by with more champagne, and Catherine took another glass and drained that one too. The man in the business suit decided to ignore her then, and assumed she’d fall asleep. He went back to his emails, and she did the same. She concentrated on her computer, and looked a little less panicked after the glasses of champagne.
The flight attendants were all setting up their galleys and getting organized to serve breakfast while the passengers put away their hand luggage and settled into their seats. Every seat on the flight was taken, and a number of people from coach had been upgraded into business class. Not just the young couple across from Catherine, but several businessmen, and the two unaccompanied children as well.
The captain came on the PA system then, introduced herself, thanked them for their patience with the equipment changes, and wished them a good flight. She said they would be ready to leave as soon as everyone had taken their seats. And with that, Catherine looked panicked again and commented to her seatmate.
“Oh God, the pilot is a woman,” she said anxiously, and he smiled.
“Some of the best pilots are women. I saw her when the crew came on. She looks very competent to me,” he said, and they both went back to work. Catherine tried to focus on her emails. She was going to San Francisco for a big meeting and interview in Silicon Valley, and she had to get to work, whether the pilot was a woman or not. But by then, the three glasses of champagne had worked their magic, and she nodded over her computer and fell asleep. The man next to her shook his head and rolled his eyes, as he went back to work. The plane moved away from the gate and headed for the runway and ten minutes later, with Catherine still sound asleep, they were in the air, heading for San Francisco.
* * *
—
On the ground, there was another momentary lull in security, and the TSA agents stood around and chatted and waited for the next wave of passengers. It reminded Bernice of the postcard she’d found in the plastic bin. She took it out of the drawer and studied it again. Was it a message from a lover? A reminder of a great weekend? A warning of some kind? She couldn’t decide as she looked at it, but the tone of it seemed harsh, as though ordering the recipient to remember the person who had written the card “forever.” It lacked tenderness and romance, or was she making too much of it? And feeling foolish for doing it, she walked over to her supervisor, Denise, and handed it to her. She was standing alone and looking bored as Bernice approached.
“What do you think of this?” Bernice asked in an innocent voice. Denise looked at it and shrugged.
“It’s a postcard. Why?”
“I know it’s a postcard,” Bernice said, trying to be pleasant with her. “I found it in a bin for the X-ray machine. Does it seem ominous to you?”
“ ‘Ominous’?” Denise looked at Bernice as though she were stupid. “What’s ominous about it? It just says, ‘You’ll remember me forever.’ The guy who wrote this probably has a two-foot dick,” she said and laughed, but Bernice didn’t.
“I thought that too at first. But if you read it again, it sounds weird to me. It gives me a creepy feeling.”
“Maybe you need to meet this guy,” Denise said rudely. “Don’t take yourself so seriously. You’
ll get your next promotion when you’re supposed to. You don’t need to invent shit to try and get it early. Throw the card away, it’s just crap. If we jumped on everything we found, the planes would be grounded here ninety-nine percent of the time.” Bernice nodded, and went to throw the card in the trash, but as her hand hovered over the garbage, she pulled it back, still holding the card. She didn’t know why, but something about it was worrying her. She slipped it into her pocket instead and went back to work, as a new wave of passengers began to arrive.
Chapter Three
The takeoff of the A321 bound for San Francisco went smoothly in Helen’s capable hands. She looked totally at ease, and it was a beautiful morning with cameo blue skies all around them. Once they reached their cruising altitude, she set the plane on autopilot and turned to smile at Jason Andrews and Connor Gray in the cockpit with her. Captain Gray was very somber and hadn’t said anything since their brief initial conversation. Helen wondered if he was feeling unwell, but he didn’t look ill. He seemed sad. She was about to say something to him when Joel knocked and was buzzed into the cockpit with coffee for all three of them and cinnamon rolls that smelled delicious. Jason took one and didn’t thank him, and gave Joel an ugly look. Joel was courteous and pleasant and said before he left that their breakfast would be ready soon.
“I can’t stand guys like that,” Jason said as soon as the door closed behind him, and Helen gave him a disapproving look. “They think they own the world now. They make me sick.”
“You seem to have a problem with a number of groups,” she said sternly. “Female pilots, African Americans, homosexuals. That’s a pretty limited view of the world. I take it you’ve never been in the military, Andrews. You have to learn to live with a lot of different people there. Or anywhere these days. It must be hard for you, with all these people you don’t like to deal with.” He didn’t respond to what she said, but had a smirk on his face. Connor Gray was watching him closely, and admired how unruffled the captain remained. “What’s your beef with female pilots?” she asked Jason, curious whether his prejudices were based on a negative experience or his own bad attitude. The latter seemed more likely.
Accidental Heroes Page 3