Falling by T.J. Newman

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THERE WAS A CRACKLING INTheo’s earpiece.

“You guys aren’t going to believe this,” said a voice from the communications van. “We just got word that Captain Hoffman’s communicating with ATC. Secretly. Using Morse code.”

Bill had told them his family was in a parked vehicle. Something big enough for them to sit in the back of. He didn’t know the exact location, but he knew they were somewhere near LAX.

“He said they’re looking out the vehicle’s back window—watching the planes take off.”

After Jo finished briefing her volunteers, she collected the last of the first-class glasses that were still out before ducking into the galley with a look back at the main cabin. Kellie and Big Daddy were almost done with their first round of compliance. Jo had watched them out of the corner of her eye while she addressed her own team, and she’d been surprised at how little time it had taken them.

Most days, cabin compliance was a struggle. Passengers don’t like to be told what to do. But today it looked like Kellie and Big Daddy didn’t need to correct a single person. Decades into her career, Jo finally understood why passengers often resisted little requests like putting a bag away or raising their seatback, or why they ignored the safety demo. It was the same impulse that stopped them from saying the things they wanted to say, doing the things they wanted to do, being who they wanted to be. They’d do it tomorrow. Next time. Later. And now, too late, they realized that tomorrow had never been a guarantee. Now they willingly, even desperately, did everything they could to buy themselves a little more time.

Jo dropped the glassware into a divided carrier in the beverage cart. The masks were out, her ABPs were briefed, the cabin was compliant, and her galley was secure. They were nearing the end of their prep and she peeked out at the passengers, at these strangers turned kin, wondering if she’d missed anything, when out of nowhere Jo felt the urge to cry.

Perhaps it was because time was running out. Or perhaps it was because Jo had watched a man, unprompted, tell the elderly woman next to him that when the time came to evacuate, he wouldn’t leave her. Perhaps it was because she had seen a teenage boy—too old to be considered an unaccompanied minor, but nonetheless traveling by himself for the first time—being reassured and comforted by the family across the aisle. Jo could see his adolescent pride melt away as he allowed himself to feel safer in the confidence only a parent can provide. Perhaps it was because she saw strangers holding hands, praying together.

The souls on board had become a family—as perfect as imperfection is. The short life of this family was about to reach its end, and as a group, they faced their mortality together.

Jo wanted to take the plane in her hands like a toy, kiss it gently, and place it up high on a shelf. Safe. She was so proud to be with these people, so proud to have added her own voice to the chorus. She and the other two flight attendants might have played different roles than the rest, but they were all in this together.

A green light appeared overhead with a high-low chime. Jo grabbed the interphone.

“You guys done with compliance?” Jo asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Daddy said on the other end of the line.

“And you’re all briefed?”

Daddy confirmed that they were. “And you owe me five dollars.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Who?”

“The couple in row thirteen. Look in the aisle.”

Jo turned around and stifled a laugh. Sure enough, a middle-aged couple stood in the aisle, struggling to remove their inflated life vests.

“Oh, bless their hearts,” Jo said, and laughed, not actually that surprised.

The plane dipped slightly. It made the threat feel imminent.

“Okay,” Jo said. “Put your masks on first, then direct the passengers to. Then I want you and Kellie in the back, in your jump seats, ready for landing. Got it?”

“But—”

“This landing could be rough,” she said, cutting him off. “Last thing we need is you two flailing about. And we don’t need you up here. I’ve got my ABPs and we’ll handle it. But you two know this plane and you know what to do in an emergency. The passengers are going to need you alive for this. Understood?”

Daddy sighed. “Understood. But for the record, I don’t like you up there alone with that guy.”

Jo looked over to Josip. She didn’t like it either. He had nearly two feet on her.

“I won’t be alone,” Jo said, trying to sound more convinced than she was. “If he tries something I got a whole plane full of backup. The mob is with us, remember?”

Daddy mumbled his agreement. He was clearly not convinced, and neither was she. But they both knew they didn’t have another option.

After hanging up, Jo opened the first overhead bin, aircraft left, and unbracketed her portable oxygen bottle. She pulled the strap over her head, the bottle crossing her body at a diagonal. Taking the yellow mask out of the pouch, she twisted the valve counterclockwise until the number “4” appeared in the little window at the bottle’s neck. Placing a finger inside the cup, she felt for a flow of air before sniffing it. It was odorless. Donning the mask, she pulled the loose straps tight, the plastic cup cutting into the bridge of her nose. Then she swung the bottle around until it came to rest awkwardly across her back. With a glance aft, she saw Kellie and Daddy finishing the same maneuvers.

Walking through first class, she helped her volunteers into their masks and pulled down the tubes to start the flow of oxygen. It was a calm and even intimate exercise. But when she resumed her place at the front of the plane and turned back to look at them, the mood shifted.

It was the eyes.

The masks covered the passenger’s faces. Jo couldn’t tell if someone was smiling or frowning. If they were wrinkling their nose or sticking out their tongue. Asking a question or yelling at her to watch out. Every action, every intention, every emotion was channeled through the eyes.

Jo started a final compliance check. A nod here, a thumbs-up there. Her cabin was ready to go and Kellie and Big Daddy were almost finished in the main cabin. Jo nodded to Big Daddy halfway across the cabin. He tipped his head in response, retreating to the aft galley to assume his post. Jo turned around at the bulkhead. Something caught her attention.

It was light, reflecting off a pair of shiny plastic pilot wings. The little boy who had visited Bill and Ben in the cockpit before the flight sat in the first row of the main cabin.

His father grasped the child’s hand in a protective gesture. The boy’s feet dangled off the edge of his seat, small shoes punctuating the ends of short legs; it would be many years before they’d be long enough to reach the floor. His intense green eyes were positively glowing, overpowering the mask that dwarfed and marred his cherub face.

The boy’s father checked his seat belt, probably for the tenth time. She could see the man mentally preparing their evacuation. Unbuckling their seat belts and grabbing the boy in his arms as they moved toward the exit, clutching him to his body as they slid to safety. The man was living in the future but the boy was not with him.

The boy was still in the plane, still in the here and now. He looked around at the swaying masks and the sparkling lights. Jo could imagine his angelic mouth under the mask, parted in awe. The boy wasn’t full of fear. He was overcome with wonder.

Witnessing that, Jo found that the weight of the moment was still painfully heavy, but she didn’t need to suffer while carrying it.

A high-low chime rang through the cabin with a green light. Jo glanced to the back of the plane as she walked to the phone, wondering why Big Daddy was calling again.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Big Daddy answered.

She waited for him to say something else.

“Y’all good on your oxygen?” she said after he didn’t speak. She adjusted her tank, the awkward bulk shifting across her back.

“Yes, ma’am. We strapped them over one shoulder, diagonal across our backs. You?”

“Same,” Jo said, watching Kellie in the back of the plane tightening the strap on her tank, Big Daddy beside her on the phone. “Anyway,” Jo said, turning the cabin lights one shade brighter, “I think we’re ready.” Glancing at Josip, she dropped her voice. “Nothing new to report from up here.”

Again, she waited for Big Daddy to say something. But he didn’t say anything else. Jo needed to focus.

“All right, I gotta go. I’ll see you down there, baby.”

“Jo!” he choked out before she could hang up the phone.

She’d known Big Daddy for many years. But as she listened to him struggling for words, she realized this was the first time she’d heard him tongue-tied. Looking to the back, she watched him wipe his cheek.

“Jo,” he whispered. “I don’t have anyone to call right now.” He covered his face with his free hand, and repeated himself, breaking into tears.

Jo’s voice shook as she said, “Well, you just called me. And I answered.”

A stifled sob filled her ear, though she could feel him try to catch it as it slipped out. Her own eyes misted in spite of her best efforts. Jo watched Kellie grab a tissue from the bathroom and pass it to Big Daddy. He accepted, pointing a finger at her.

“If you tell anyone about this, young lady, I’ll tell the FBI you were working with the terrorist.”

Jo heard Kellie laugh and she smiled. “Don’t worry, Daddy,” Jo said. “Your secret’s safe with us.”

Hanging up the interphone, Jo pulled out her cell phone, opened the text thread with Theo, and began typing.

Bill pulled the canister of poison out of his messenger bag, setting it carefully on the dash. The smaller vial lay at the bottom of his bag.

“What about the powder I was supposed to use to kill you?” he asked Ben.

Sam and Ben both laughed.

“Put it on French toast?” Ben said. “It’s powdered sugar.”

Bill felt the crown on his back tooth crack under the pressure of his clenched jaw.

“But that,” Ben said as he indicated the silver canister in front of the captain, “is definitely not sugar. Look, I couldn’t die. Someone had to be here to make sure you made your choice. If you hadn’t broken the rules, I never would have revealed myself. You’d have poisoned me and I’d have faked my own death. But I had to be alive to make sure you went through with the crash.”

Bill shook his head, trying to understand. “But what if I chose the plane? And I didn’t poison you, and we landed just fine and my family…” He couldn’t finish the thought.

“Then that would have been your choice,” Ben said. “We’d have landed without incident and I’d have shot myself in the head later tonight.”

Ben bowed to Sam, saying something that wasn’t in English. Sam bowed his head as well, repeating the phrase.

“You see, we will die today. Sam and I both. It’s been decided. But now, in our deaths, our lives will have purpose.”

Bill shook his head in disgust. “Martyrdom is a coward’s death.”

Sam brought the phone right up to his face, his cheeks quivering as he tried to maintain composure.

“This has nothing to do with religion,” he said. “The only cowards are people like you who are too scared to face the truth of how you keep your peace and privilege and at what cost.”

Bill didn’t hear a word he said.

Eyes narrowed at the computer, Bill focused on what was over Sam’s shoulder. The new camera angle had brought the light closer behind them, illuminating… wood beams?

It clicked. Bill almost gasped.

Years ago, when Carrie moved from Chicago to Los Angeles, they rented a U-Haul for the drive. She didn’t need anything huge since she’d sold most of her stuff, so the seatless sixteen-seater the moving company offered was perfect. Bill had had to get in and out of it probably a hundred times. He had a splinter in his hand for a week from the wooden beams he used to hoist himself up.

The family was in a moving van.