Red Eye | Season 1 | Episode 1

by Riley, Claire C

  RED Eye

  The Armageddon Series

  Season One: Episode One

  By USA Today Bestselling Author

  Claire C. Riley

  &

  Victoria Cage Author

  Eli Constant

  RED EYE

  Copyright ©2019 Claire C. Riley & Elizabeth Constantopoulos

  Cover Design: Wilde Book Designs, Elizabeth Constantopoulos

  Editor: Amy Jackson

  Formatting: Claire C. Riley

  ALL RIGHT RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws, any unauthorised reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, without express permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

  About the episode:

  This is the worst flight ever!

  ** Rose is excited for her new adventure, but as her guilt grows, so does

  the tension on the plane. Sam thinks the worst thing about her week was

  her doomed wedding, she was wrong. **

  About the Series

  When a red-eye flight from London to Los Angeles brings two strangers together, they have no idea that it’s the end of the bloody world!

  Rose, a British runaway, is ready for the adventure of a lifetime. Her hopes are high, her funds are low, and nothing is going to rain on her parade.

  Except maybe the apocalypse!

  Sam is an American ballerina on her way home from a hellish vacation. She’s tired of culture, tired of traveling, and seriously tired of men. She can’t wait to get home.

  That is until everyone turns into flesh-eating zombies!

  Neither woman expects their exhausting overnight flight to devolve into bloody carnage of terror and mayhem.

  But when you’re over 30,000 feet in the air

  and there’s nowhere to run

  and nowhere to hide…

  what else can you do but team up with as many survivors as possible and try to stay alive?

  *

  Start this epic zombie apocalypse thriller written by USA Today Bestseller Claire C. Riley and Victoria Cage Author Eli Constant.

  Red Eye Season 1: Episode 1- OUT NOW

  Red Eye Season 1: Episode 2 – COMING NOVEMBER 7th

  Pre-order link

  RED Eye

  The Armageddon Series

  Season One: Episode One

  By USA Today Bestselling Author

  Claire C. Riley

  &

  Victoria Cage Author

  Eli Constant

  Prologue

  “Command, this is flight BA2102 approaching.”

  Static.

  “Command, repeat, this is BA2102 and we are on approach.”

  Static.

  “Command tower? Is anyone there?”

  Static.

  “BA2102, can you give me your location?”

  “We’re on route for landing in approximately—”

  An ear-piercing scream echoed through the radio.

  “Tower? Is everything okay? Do I need to start emergency protocol?”

  “BA2102, you are free to land,” Tower replied, the voice sounding breathless. “Please be aware that there is an incident unfolding right now and we will need you to keep your passengers on board until further notice.”

  “Sure, sure…” Captain Holand looked across at his copilot, First Officer Byrne, and they exchanged an uneasy look. “Tower, can you confirm the incident for us?”

  Static.

  “Hello? Tower?”

  Static.

  “We’re not sure, Captain. It’s not good. That’s the best I can say right now. Keep your passengers on board and for God’s sake, do not let anyone off unless it’s life or death.”

  Static.

  “Tower…did you say life or death?”

  “Fuck,” First Officer Byrne said, pulling out his cell phone and pushing the buttons on it to call his wife.

  “Yes, sir. Things are…crazy here. Just keep everyone calm and on that damn plane until you receive further notice.”

  Captain Holand stared out at the lights of LAX airport coming into view through the cloud cover below. “Tower? Can you confirm…is it terrorism?”

  Static.

  “We don’t know what the hell this is,” Tower replied ominously. “But…oh god, Barbara, are you okay? Barb? Please…oh god…” A long, ear-piercing scream echoed out of the microphone before cutting out.

  Static.

  First Officer Byrne hung up his cell and turned to Captain Holand. “Sir, I can’t get any answer. My wife…she’s not answering her cell. She always answers. She’s seven months pregnant and knows I worry.”

  Captain Holand dragged a hand down his face. “What the hell is happening down there?”

  The clouds broke, and the two men stared down at LA. It was still too dark, and they were still too high up to make out anything for certain, but they could see small fires breaking out all over the city.

  “Jesus…” First Officer Byrne murmured, lifting his cell to try his wife again.

  Captain Holand picked up the radio again. “Tower?”

  Static.

  “Tower? Is anyone there?”

  Static.

  Chapter One.

  Rose

  M aybe it was my guilty conscience, but this seemed to be the longest flight ever.

  I never knew that time could go so slowly. Especially being thousands of feet up in the air in a plane ten times the size of my house. But guilt and shame were working together to make each second seem like an hour. And each hour seem like a week.

  The time sat waiting was giving me too much bloody time to think…think and feel sick over my decision to leave the UK and embark on this journey.

  But I needed it. I needed this escape so bad.

  I was twenty-two and about to settle in to the mundane work life of an accountant at my parents’ firm. I had been training for this job for as far back as I could remember. Yet it was a job that I had never wanted in the first place.

  Dragging a hand down my face, I tried to wipe away the stale cabin air that was clinging to my skin from being on a plane for almost ten hours. The man next to me shifted his long legs and snored a little louder, and I squirmed uncomfortably. I’d been bursting for the toilet for hours now, hoping that he’d wake up and I could squeeze out of my seat, but he’d popped a couple of pills and settled in for the long flight—stretching his legs out in front of him and sleeping for almost the entire time.

  I hoped he’d wake up soon or I was going to wee myself. Urghhh.

  Of course it didn’t help that I’d drunk three large coffees. And when I say large, I mean large. Everything American was huge. The coffee cup was almost the size of my head!

  The man on the aisle seat offered me a sympathetic smile and turned back to his in-flight magazine, though I doubted he was actually reading it since he’d spent more time looking at me than at that stupid brochure. He was gross. And I was young enough to be his daughter.

  I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes.

  Mum and Dad would have found my letter by now, explaining that I was going travelling before starting my position at the firm. It was, in essence, just a gap year—one which they’d specifically pleaded with me not to take.

  A gap year which I’d promised I wouldn’t take.

  And y
et here I was.

  Sat in the most uncomfortable plane seat ever invented and squashed into my tiny space by two other strangers who could be serial killers for all I knew. I felt my heart rate begin to spike and forced myself to breathe and not freak myself out.

  I was thousands of miles away from home, alone, with barely a couple hundred pounds to my name. No, not pounds—dollars. I was still working out the money conversion, but I already knew I didn’t have nearly enough to last me a month, meaning I’d need to find work soon.

  But I’d be okay. I had to be.

  I needed to show my parents that I was more than capable of living my own life.

  I loved them, dearly, but I was tired of living under their anxious, watchful stares. I was twenty-two, but you wouldn’t know it. Hell, I didn’t know it half the time. I chewed on my thumbnail, guilt clawing at my insides.

  They’d understand, eventually.

  I hoped.

  Because I had to do this. I knew nothing about myself or the world, and if I was going to take over their firm one day, then I needed to actually have some life before I did that.

  We’d been doing a slow descent for twenty minutes now, and my ears continued to throb painfully every once in a while until I yawned to stop the pressure. I wished someone had warned me about that before I’d gotten on board.

  Staring out of the plane window, my eyes fell on a small gap in the clouds. Below me was nothing but the vast expanse of the dark blue North Pacific Ocean, and even though it was nighttime, I could still see the waves rolling and crashing below me. It was kind of beautiful in its wildness. It was the sort of freedom that my heart longed for—moving between bodies of land, nothing tethering me to something or someone I didn’t want.

  Despite the plane’s air-conditioning, I could already feel the air was warmer than in the UK, and I shrugged out of my hoody and dropped it on to my lap. The man next to me grumbled as I shuffled in my seat to get comfy again. Britain was always cold and wet. We had barely a handful of actual hot days, even in summer, before the rain came crashing down and pissed on our parade. Aah, but what a glorious couple of days they were. Men stripped off their T-shirts to set free their beer bellies, women slipped on their maxi dresses and sandals, and we lathered our kids in factor 50+ sunscreen on the off chance that they’d get skin cancer from the limited sun that kissed their skin.

  I breathed a sigh of relief as the man next to me spluttered on a snore and began to wake up. Unclipping my seatbelt, I stood up. Clinging to my hoody, I watched as the snorer stretched and gave a loud groan of relief, his eyes finally fluttering open. I was desperate and trying hard to stay patient.

  “Sorry, I just need to get past you,” I said apologetically, “I’m bursting for the loo!”

  He yawned and shuffled as far back in his seat as he could, pulling his legs back so I could squeeze past. I uttered the same apology to the fish man, and then I was free, my legs tingling and my bladder burning with urgency.

  The plane was huge—I mean, as far as I could tell, anyway, having never been on one before. But any plane that could hold this many passengers, their luggage, and have several toilets on board must be huge, right?

  It was also slightly terrifying. How did this thing even stay in the sky? It was insane, and I was mesmerized by the whole thing. I smiled and chewed on my bottom lip as I made my way through the narrow aisles, excited that we were so close to landing. Because despite the guilt, I was excited. How could I not be?

  I’d phone my mum and dad when I landed and explain everything. I’d apologize. And then I was going to have the best year of my life! Everything was going to be fine. Exhilaration and nervousness buzzed through me.

  My bladder nudged me impatiently and I hurried to the closest toilet, passing chatting couples and crying children, plus several air stewardesses. I was so thankful when I got to the toilet to find that there was only one other person waiting in front of me.

  It sounded stupid, but I was even excited about the toilets! I mean, there was toilets…in the bloody sky! How amazing was that? How was that even possible?

  I glanced around me, wishing I had someone to talk to, but I was surrounded by strangers, and my smile fell. It had been this way most of my life. My parents, though I loved them dearly, had sheltered me from everything. I think the term was helicopter parenting. They made the decisions for me; they chose my college and university. They decided everything. And though I knew it was out of love, I felt stifled.

  I wanted friends, and fun, drinking and dancing, adventures, and maybe one day even a boyfriend. I wasn’t sure how I’d let my life become such a small bubble, but I knew with all my heart that I needed to pop it and explore the world and myself before I would ever be happy.

  The plane suddenly dipped, the noise from the engines getting louder as the “seatbelts on” sign pinged to attention. I clutched at the nearest seat to stop myself falling, apologizing profusely to the man in the seat.

  “I’m so sorry,” I mumbled with mortification.

  I pulled myself upright again, thankful when the woman in front of me gave up on her toilet break and headed back to her seat, whereas I held on for dear life, determined to go even if my life depended on it.

  “Ma’am, the captain has pressed the seatbelt sign so you’re going to need to take your seat now,” one of the air stewardesses said from next to me. As was typical of air stewardesses, at least those I’d seen in TV shows or movies, she was plastered in thick foundation, with bright red lips and perfect blond hair. And of course the fake smile.

  The door to the toilet opened, and I said a silent thank you to whichever god was listening. “I’m really sorry, I just need to go to the loo first, I’ll be super quick, I promise!” I said, darting into the small cubicle before she could say no to me.

  I sat down and had the most glorious wee of my life, ignoring the worrying amount of turbulence as the plane continued its slow descent. It was all perfectly normal, I told myself. Perfectly normal…

  A knocking came at the door as I was flushing. “Ma’am, I need you to take your seat now.” The stewardess spoke from the other side, her tone growing impatient.

  “I’ll be right out!” I called back, stumbling around the tiny space. It really was incredible though. A tiny little sink, a tiny little toilet, a tiny mirror which showed my disheveled and exhausted face. It was all so quaint! I grinned again before washing up and putting my hoody back on now that we were about to land.

  I slid the lock across, and the light automatically dimmed and I stepped out. The stewardess was waiting for me with a stern look on her pouty red mouth, and I mumbled my apologies.

  “Please go back to your seat, ma’am,” she said sternly.

  I nodded and tried not to feel too much like a child being told off by her mum as I began to pass her just as the plane dipped suddenly. A loud whirring noise sounded out from somewhere in the depths of the plane’s belly and I lurched sideways, falling into the stewardess and sending us both slamming into the opposite wall with a loud “oomph.”

  “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” I cried out as we both pulled ourselves back upright. “Really, really sorry, I’ll go sit down now.”

  She smiled politely, but I could tell she was pissed off by our collision. She smoothed down her skirt with her well-manicured hands. “Like I said, the captain has issued the seatbelt sign on, so all passengers need t—”

  A sharp cry tore out from the curtain behind us, interrupting her. Her gaze moved from me to the other stewardess that was sat down. “Cindy,” she called with a jerk of her head, and the other woman nodded and unclipped her belt before standing up. “Back to your seat, ma’am. Immediately!” she ordered before turning away and pulling back the curtain.

  My jaw dropped open as I got a glimpse of first class in all its glory.

  The seats were bigger, comfier, and most definitely cleaner, and gentle music filtered through the speakers. Most people were rousing from their sleep, courtesy of the screame
r—a blond woman who was crouched over an unconscious man slumped sideways in his seat. Froth bubbled from between his lips, and his eyes were rolled back in his head as he convulsed against his restraints. The woman was crying, her face inches from his as she called his name repeatedly.

  “Charles, Charles, oh my god, help, somebody help me please! I need a doctor!”

  The two stewardesses made their way to him, and I watched in morbid fascination as they went through what was likely common protocol—checking his pulse, temperature etc. When they still couldn’t get any response from him, they unclipped him from his seat, and a brown-haired man got up to help drag the unconscious man into the aisle of the plane and lay him flat on his back. A woman in the aisle opposite was watching everything happen with a certain amount of glee on her face. She was the sort of woman that looked like she read the celebrity trash magazines and cheered at every heartbreak and botched facelift. Her red pantsuit was tight across her ample chest, and she placed a hand on it and gasped as the man began to choke on the foam spewing from his mouth.

  “It’s okay, I’m a doctor,” the brown-haired man said, pulling off the unconscious man’s tie and popping open the buttons of his no-doubt-expensive shirt like it was nothing.

  I stared, transfixed by the horrifying scene in front of me, my hand covering my mouth. I’d never seen a dead body before; I guess not many people actually have. It seemed I was about to witness someone dying right in front of me though. My excitement for my year of fun dispersed and was replaced by sadness.

  The doctor leaned over the man and started mouth-to-mouth, and I finally backed away, deciding that it really was time to get back to my seat because I couldn’t watch someone die. Once again, regret and guilt pulled at me because of my stupid decision to run away from home, my parents, and my responsibilities.

  I could still hear the cries of the woman—his wife, I presumed—as I made my way back to my seat. A young woman’s hand shot out and tapped me on the arm, and I turned to her with grief evident on my face.