I love it, Constantce. I really can't wait to read more.
*this is a bit I've worked on here and there...before the zombie plane movies incidentally lol*
"The Friendly Skies"
Robert Langley stumbled up to the ticket counter with his boarding pass. He was pale and clammy and very weak. When the flight attendant first saw him, she thought to herself that this should be an interesting flight. She hated it when they were drunk BEFORE they got on the plane. She was contemplating how bad this flight could be when the next customer moved up in the queue. This guy was good looking so she turned on her charm and completely forgot about the drunk guy ahead of him.
As Robert made his way to the rear of the plane he felt relieved. Under normal circumstances, he would have been irritated to sit in the back. He hated waiting for the other passengers to unload all of their overhead baggage and stand around blocking the aisles. But today, he was grateful to be so near the restroom. He felt very ill.
He ran through his day and tried to remember what he had eaten to cause him to feel so poorly. The only thing he could think of was the horrible food in the airport cafeteria that he had eaten while waiting for his flight to be called. But that couldn't be the problem. He had felt ill before that. Suddenly the image of an angry young man came into his thoughts. Earlier that day he had been running for a cab so he could get to the airport on time. He hailed one and as he stepped off the curb to climb inside, a desparate looking young man grabbed him by the collar and attempted to pull him out of the taxi. Robert had whacked him across the knee with his briefcase and started to climb in again when the hoodlum reached again for his collar. This time Robert was on the business end of the young man's fingernails. He had turned around and kicked the kid in the stomach. This sent him sprawling on the sidewalk. Robert yelled to the cabbie to step on it and reached inside his shirt. He was now the proud owner of a three-inch long, nasty looking scratch.
He fingered his cut now. "Christ," he muttered under his breath. "I've probably got Hepatitis or some such shit now."
"Sorry, Sir?" The attendant from earlier had been passing on her way to strap herself in for take off.
"Nothing." Robert settled into his seat and thought if he could just sleep for a while, he would feel much better.
The flight from New York to LA was two and a half hours in when Robert awoke and felt as if he was going to vomit any second. He fumbled with his air sickness bag but didn't make it in time. He felt his stomach lurch and then there was grilled cheese all over the back of the seat in front of him. It wasn't very loud, but when you are in a tube, it doesn't take long for everyone to know when someone has lost their lunch.
The flight attendant came running over. Her nametag said her name was Sandy, but Robert was in no condition to focus on that.
"Sir, are you all right?"
"Grabchjoibning," he mumbled in response.
"I'm sorry, Sir. I don't understand."
Robert began to convulse and Sandy reached out to try and stabilize him. She looked into his eyes. As she was watching, they appeared to glaze over and have a whitish film over them. It looked as if he was looking past her into nothing. Then he stopped. He just stopped moving. Sandy leaned in to listen for a heartbeat. As her face crossed in front of his, he lashed out at her with his teeth. She pulled away and her hand went up to her cheek. She screamed when she felt the chunk missing. Staring down at her attacker, Sandy realized the bastard was chewing. She screamed again and Robert attempted to grab her.
The handsome passenger with whom Sandy had flirted earlier came running over. He grabbed Sandy about the waist and pulled her free from Robert's grip. He then slung her into an empty seat in the next aisle and began to pummel Robert about the head. By this time, several other passengers had scrambled to help. Some of them were trying to console Sandy and others were attempting to separate Robert and the handsome passenger.
Fifteen minutes later, another flight attendant, Jessica, was making her way up to the cockpit. The pilot turned to face her when she entered.
"Is everything under control?"
"Finally," she said. "I thought we would never get that guy to calm down."
"Whats' the damage?" asked the co-pilot.
"I guess it could be worse. Sandy has a bad bite on her face and there are about six other passengers that got wounded trying to subdue that guy. He is still conscious, but it's like he has no idea what is going on. He doesn't really focus on anything. He just sits there and tries to bite anybody that comes near him. But everyone else is finally starting to relax. I think that as long as he is secure, they will be fine."
"Good. Now all we have to do is get them to the airport and we can be done with it."
"One thing, though, Captain. I'm worried about Sandy."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"She seems delirious. And she looks like she might throw up. Her face is pale and she feels feverish, but she is shivering."
"Well, you just go and sit with her and do not leave her side. If she gets worse, let me know. In the meantime, I will call ahead and have rescue units waiting. You can't be too careful with a human bite. They are so much more dangerous than anyone thinks."
(or whatever it ends up being )
The line to the security checkpoint snaked back and forth giving the weary passengers the look of theme park patrons who have been in the sun too long. Misty scanned the crowd for familiar faces, praying there would be none. She had no desire to have to try and explain what she was doing at the airport without her husband, Ted. Of course it really was no one's business why she did anything...but being the southern girl that she was, Misty felt the need to explain everything she did. And everyone knew she never went anywhere without Ted.
"Hey!" Misty spun around in a panic to see a man in a uniform sprinting toward a woman doing her best to wrangle three unruly children.
"Hey, Lady, you left your wallet at the check-in counter."
"Oh, my god, thank you so much. I have no idea where my head is today."
The man nodded a response and turned to walk away, "I don't know where your head was three brats ago."
Misty breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to survey the beginning of the line. Things were moving more steadily now. She could almost see the end in sight. If only she could just get on the plane. Once she was on board, no one would find her. She would be home free.
A tap to her shoulder from behind simultaneously brought Misty our of her reverie and brought her heart into her throat. She whimpered and shrank away from her attacker.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I didn't mean to startle you. I was just going to tell you that the line is moving now. You can go ahead on."
This lady had a gentle face. She was an older woman with steel grey hair and soft blue eyes that look as if you could fall right in and swim around. For a moment, Misty felt content just staring into them. Then the woman's face showed a slight twinge of discomfort. Misty shook her head, nodded a thank you and picked up her bag to move forward. She was next in line already.
"You're gonna have to take off your glasses, lady."
"What? Oh." Misty glanced around to scan the crowd and slowly slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose revealing a nasty black eye in the greenish-yellow healing stages. She looked directly at the uniformed man in front of her begging him to be kind. He was visibly shaken, not having expected to see this.
"Um...okay. Go on ahead, lady." He blushed and quickly looked behind her to the next person in line. He, like most people, was good at looking past what is uncomfortable to see.
Misty picked up her bags, placed them on the conveyor and walked through the metal detector. She exhaled deeply as she crossed the threshold and headed to the gate to await her turn to board the plane.
Forty-five minutes later, Misty was sitting in her seat hugged against the window. She looked around at the passengers milling about the cabin. She noticed a sickly looking fellow seated across the aisle and one seat up from her. He was squirming and breathing ragged but he seemed harmless. Maybe he was just nervous. She heard a woman whispering a shout toward the front of the plane and looked up to discover it was the harried woman with the three children from the security line. Great. She was hoping her flight would be calm.
She sank down into her seat and fell into a deep, well-deserved rest. It had been a long time since she had been able to sleep without the fear of waking up to Ted slapping her or the fetid stench of his rum breath in her face.
But Misty's rest was fitful after all. Her dreams were haunted by Ted's visage, twisted in rage. Anyone around her who was paying attention would see her jerk and convulse as he pummeled her in her nightmares. His large hands wrapped tightly around her throat, he shook her until her blonde tresses fell from the clipped bun she wore. Her face was turning red as she clawed helplessly at his rugged hands. She could feel the roughness of his work-worn fingers against the soft, tender flesh of her neck. He was screaming about how she wanted to fuck other men, about how he knew she didn't think he was good enough for her, about his own inadequacies made more obvious by the drink. He loosened one hand from the grip on her throat and drew it back in preparation for a punch. Misty fearfully eyed the ring on his finger, knowing all too well how much it would hurt. She watched his face pinch harder in anger and closed her eyes in an attempt to steel herself against the pending blow when she saw the fist headed for her eye...
The screams awakened her just in time. Misty looked around to see where the scuffle was coming from while doing a mental checklist of herself. She was fine. It had all been a dream. Someone else was screaming, but why? Her eyes fell on the grisly site of the sickly man from earlier chewing what appeared to be flesh from one of the attendant's faceâ€¦so much for him being harmless.
"What the Hell is going on?" No one heard her question. It got lost in her throat. She realized she was on the verge of making herself known. It didn't matter what was going on. It had nothing to do with her.
She watched as several passengers leapt into action in an effort to subdue this madman. They were able to restrain him enough to strap him into his seat then several of went to see if the attendant needed help. She didn't look so good. Misty's heart went out to her. She knew pain. She wanted to help, to reach out to her, but she couldn't.
She pulled her jacket closer around her and sank back against the window watching over the top of her sunglasses as this strange man gnashed his teeth and strained in his seat.
She detected a note of copper and surveyed herself one more time. She must have gotten sprayed during the fight. She felt a wetness on her lip and instinctively drew her tongue out and around to taste it. How strange to have the taste of someone else's blood in her mouth for a change.
Last edited by moviemaven (2009-01-03 23:44:09)