by Nova Rain
Minutes and hours went by, with Ben hitting keys faster than anyone else I’d seen in my whole life. His fingers blurred across his laptop keyboard, sending the necessary commands to the rest of the machines. By 10:20, we were all alone in the room. I turned out the lights to avoid detection from outside. Without the overhead fluorescence, I felt like I was floating in a sea of flashing screens. They spread out before me, serving as a high-tech remedy for my fears. Ben did run into a few minor issues, just as I thought he would. In one case, certain devices like the graphics cards on two computers malfunctioned and forced him to restart them. Yet, those misfortunes just managed to delay the operation by five minutes. Two caffeinated energy drinks, one box of cookies, three bags of chips and a couple of chocolate bars later, and Jake’s brother announced what Penny and I had been longing to hear.
Success.
Still under the influence of caffeine, the boy hopped onto a desk and started to dance to Rihanna’s “Don’t Stop the Music.” Utterly exhausted but delighted, I hugged Penny amid the sounds of music and our laughter. Jake and Michael were no longer in trouble. That boy had made sure that neither of them would go to court. In other words, he had guaranteed them perhaps the most underrated gift of all: their freedom.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Michael
“How are you feeling? Is everything okay?”
My mother was driving me crazy. How? She asked the same questions two or three times an hour. Somehow, she seemed to be deaf to the answer I’d been giving her.
“I’m fine.”
I could understand she was worried. We were tight, and she had almost lost me. All the same, tragedy had been averted. My decision to assume the “brace” position just seconds before impact, a—huge—stroke of luck, and a team of great physicians had saved my life. I needed her to talk to me about things outside the walls of this hospital, not test my patience so often.
“I’m starting to wonder what you’ll do if I say something like ‘my chest hurts.’” I groaned and rolled my eyes up at her.
“How many children do you have, Michael?” she asked, clenching her jaw.
“None.”
“Then you have no idea about the agony your father and I have been through this whole time,” she emphasized, leaning her head down. “You don’t have a clue what it’s like for a parent to feel that their child is slipping away. That they might soon have to bury that child. Trust me, son. You will understand what I’m talking about when you start your own family.”
“Look, I’m sorry.” I assumed a much mellower tone. “Can we please discuss something else?”
“How about your girlfriend?” She suggested, raising an eyebrow. “She’s a wonderful girl, Michael. I love how strong she’s been throughout this. She wouldn’t leave the hospital; not even to go home and take a shower. We prayed together for you.”
“Ava is an amazing woman,” I stated, recalling her words in the ICU. “I really think I could settle down with her.”
“Oh my God!” She exclaimed, her eyes widening as I caught a glimpse of my girlfriend stroll past the window behind her. “Are you…?”
“Shhhh…” I silenced her, putting my index finger to my lips. “She’s coming.”
“Hello, everyone,” Ava chirped, approaching me with a big grin. “How was your day?”
“Pretty interesting, actually. You just missed Usain Bolt. He challenged me to a sprint to the psychiatric ward. I won,” I teased her, maintaining my serious expression.
“Cute,” she praised, stopping beside me. “Penny and I took Ben to the Bulletin last night. He managed to hack into the databases of ‘Swift Cargo’ and United Airlines, and replaced work records, pictures and names on the contracts. As far as they’re concerned, you never committed any crime. You’re in the clear.”
“Huh!” Anna gasped, looking at Ava first and then me.
I laughed and tipped my head back against the bed board. “Remind me to buy that kid something good when I get out of here.”
“Where is he?” My mother posed the question, her voice faster than usual.
“He’s probably in his hotel room, sleeping,” Ava informed her. “He worked on it through the night.”
“Thank you,” Anna lifted her hands up to my girlfriend’s shoulders, an expression of gratitude written all over her face.
“Mrs. Compton, I didn’t do anything,” Ava claimed. “It’s Ben you should be thanking.”
The two of them continued their conversation, but whatever they said next passed by me unheard. My girl had barely finished her last phrase, when I spotted two men striding past the window. It had taken a while for the blue in their uniforms to fade from memory. To my disappointment, I hadn’t completely forgotten it. It was the shade United Airlines used. Worse still, these two were no strangers to me. They were in fact Al Rosen and Keith Jackson, the same morons that had dared to show up at Jake’s funeral.
“Give us the room, ladies,” I requested, my gaze fixed on them as they stopped under the doorframe.
“Are you…?”
“I said give us the room,” I repeated, interrupting Ava. She let out a gasp of frustration and followed my mother.
“Rosen and Jackson,” I smirked. “No wonder I smelled shit just before you guys showed up.”
“Some things never change, do they, Al?” Jackson turned to his colleague briefly and then looked back at me. “You and Turner have a knack for cheating death, Compton. I mean, New Orleans? Kingston-Ulster? Be careful, though. You might not be lucky a third time.”
“Is this why you’re here?” I wondered, sitting up. “To tell me my luck might run out?”
“No,” Rosen shook his head sideways once. “Our friends at the NTSB contacted us this afternoon with the names of the two pilots flying that Beluga. Imagine our surprise when we discovered that one of them died in December. We said: ‘It’s impossible. We buried Captain Turner.’ But our contacts were adamant. Captain Turner and Captain Compton were at the controls of the Airbus Beluga that crashed in Kingston-Ulster. How the fuck did you get a job at ‘Swift Cargo’? Your mugs were everywhere after that landing in New Orleans. Didn’t they recognize you?”
“We were hired the old-fashioned way, Jackson,” I declared, my voice stiff. “We applied. You know, we filled in a form with our personal information and our work record. As for your last question? Ask them. Boys, let’s hold the bullshit, shall we? Are you telling me you guys didn’t know Jake was still alive until the NTSB told you this afternoon?”
“That’s right,” he gave a quick nod. “We thought he died in that car accident in December. Hell, the whole country thought the same thing. Why do you find that so strange?”
“Never mind,” I pursed my lips and dragged my gaze away from his. He and his colleague were the last people on earth I would discuss Jake’s theory with.
“We made mistakes, Compton,” he admitted, softening his tone. “We only realized that after Turner’s funeral. The logical thing would have been for us to suspend you both for a while, but instead, we tried to destroy Turner with a lawsuit. So, I thought you should know we won’t be pressing charges against either of you. Let’s bury the hatchet, shall we?”
He offered his hand for a handshake at the end of his sentence.
“Get the fuck out of my face,” I growled, slapping his hand away. “You fuckers are the reason I was forced to get that shitty job in the first place, and now you want to be friends with me? Fuck no! Get out!”
“Think about it,” Jackson requested, stepping backwards. “I’ll be seeing you.”
“Not likely,” I hummed, dropping my head as I drew in a deep breath. I exhaled hard and banged the heel of my hand against my forehead, unable to believe their nerve. That goddamn airline had ruined my life. They had taken from me the most precious thing I had in this world and everything that went with it.
Travel.
Meeting new people.
Seeing new places.
It shouldn’t
have surprised me. United Airlines was a corporation, and corporations don’t act on reason. They don’t take into account any psychological factors. All they want, all they are always after, is money.
“They just walked into Jake’s room,” Ava’s voice interrupted my thought process. “I didn’t go far. I heard pretty much everything; I even recorded it. Can I make a suggestion?”
“I can’t…” I croaked, the white of the sheets filling my line of sight.
“Hey, hey…” she whispered, striding towards me. God, I wanted to hear that velvety voice again. It had a unique way of taking away my stress and helping me focus on her. “It’s alright,” she assured me, snaking her arms around my shoulders. Ava eased me into her, my temple making contact with the fabric of her blouse. “It’s all going to be alright,” one more whisper escaped her as tears pooled in my eyes. I squeezed them shut, preferring silence over a comment of my own. I couldn’t offer her one anyway. A desire was burning within me, but it didn’t include anything verbal. It was a desire to shout, curse and pound on any member of that airline’s staff unfortunate enough to cross paths with me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ava
I must be hallucinating.
Four words.
Four words that made perfect sense, unlike Michael’s behavior. How in the world could someone go from cracking jokes just five minutes ago, to being so emotional? He was barely holding back his tears. Michael Compton, the cool man who wouldn’t even frown because he wanted to “lighten the atmosphere,” was on the verge of collapse. And although I didn’t mind comforting him at all, I needed an explanation. Not from him. I doubted he could offer me one, but from an expert.
I left his room and headed down the hallway. An overhead sign pointing right read:
“Psychiatric Ward”
I was in luck. A man in a lab coat was talking to the clerk at the helpdesk, just a few feet to my left.
“Doctor?” I spoke out loud. “Doctor, do you have a minute?”
“Yes, ma’am?” He took his eyes off the clerk to look up at me.
“My name is Ava. Michael Compton, my boyfriend, was one of the pilots involved in that recent plane crash at Kingston-Ulster Airport,” I stated. “His behavior is a little…”
“I’m aware of the incident. I’m Dr. Haynes, by the way,” he interrupted, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “He was lucky to get out of that crash alive. Now, he’s acting weird. He’s touchy; emotional even.”
“Yes,” I affirmed. “Is that normal?”
“It’s textbook,” he responded in a sharp manner. “He’s suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD. Captain Compton has been through severe trauma. In most cases, this trauma affects temper, and patients exhibit rapid mood swings. But…” He paused. “There’s a second reason why your boyfriend was lucky.”
“What’s that?”
“No one died on that flight,” he answered, slightly raising his voice. “Plane crash survivors are often plagued by guilt. Sometimes, this leads to chronic depression, because those people wonder about things like: ‘Why did my friend die and I didn’t? Why did my wife die and I didn’t? Why was I given a second chance at life?’ and so on. Do not fret, though. With the proper treatment and the help of a therapist, Mr. Compton will get over it in no time. Here.” He shoved his hand into the front pocket of his coat and handed me his card. “Tell him to come see me whenever he’s discharged.”
“Thank you.” I tipped my head down politely, glad that the doctor had satisfied my curiosity. To be honest, I had heard of PTSD before. I thought it only affected veterans of war, people who had been in the heat of battle. It hadn’t crossed my mind that Michael was suffering from that. However, I had the explanation I’d been searching for. I was aware now. For the sake of our relationship, I would try to understand him better in the future. I just hoped that his trauma would not affect our bond.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ava
I had mixed emotions about Jake’s discharge from the hospital. Part of me was glad that Penny would have some time to herself. Our routine had been identical during the past five days. We woke up, went to work and then drove straight to Metropolitan Hospital. Late at night, we returned home exhausted. On the other hand, a bigger part of me was sad, because I wouldn’t have her company for the remainder of Michael’s stay. She promised to visit him—and she would—but it wouldn’t be the same. Still, with her and Jake out of the hospital, I was free to disclose my idea to them, without worrying about my boyfriend’s reaction. The visit from those United Airlines representatives messed him up more than I could have imagined. At the very mention of either of those two words, Michael would lose it. I had every intention of letting him know about it, too, but that conversation had to be put on hold. I would wait at least until he was discharged and consult with his therapist about choosing the opportune moment to reveal what I had in mind.
I couldn’t fool myself. The chance of either Jake or Michael agreeing to my plan was not just small. It was infinitesimal. Why? Because Jake’s ego was about as big as the triple-seven they used to fly, back in the day. Convincing him would be a lot harder than convincing my boyfriend. Michael wasn’t that selfish, but his loyalties lay with his friend and colleague. He would fly pretty much anywhere in an old, rusty plane, as long as he flew with the man who once saved his life.
I knocked on Penny’s door and crossed my fingers. This had to work. If it didn’t, the two pilots we had been dating would be doomed to fly cargo planes for the rest of their careers.
“Hey!” My friend welcomed me with a smile. “Come on in. How’s Michael?”
“He’s okay,” I muttered, seeing Jake’s large figure on the couch. “How’s it going?”
“I’m really glad you’re here.” He assumed a serious voice. “Maybe you can talk Penny out of what she’s been blabbering about all afternoon.”
“What? I’m sorry, am I missing something here?” I asked Penny, peeling off my coat.
“The NTSB is disclosing Jake and Michael’s names to the press tomorrow morning,” she explained, seating herself next to him. “I think we should get ahead of that with an interview. Jake can tell the world what he had to do to avoid prosecution. He doesn’t like it. He’d rather issue a press release instead and apologize for faking his death. Which one do you think is better?”
“I don’t like either.” I spoke my mind, sitting down in the armchair across from her. “You’re his girlfriend, Penny. The public may have forgotten this, but the press will remember it. Whatever he says in that interview, they’ll mock him for choosing you for another exclusive. They’ll say ‘the hero went to his girlfriend to cry for his misfortunes. Is he a hero or a crybaby?’ Our hypocritical colleagues will crucify you for sitting on this information for so long and not sharing it with the public. Walter won’t escape the criticism, either. Also, a press release will probably raise more questions than answers. The press will want to contact Jake for those answers. Do you really want a bunch of reporters to camp out on your street? Because I wouldn’t.”
“I see,” Jake gave a nod of understanding. “What are you suggesting?”
“Before I talk to you about that, I’d like to know what you did when those United representatives walked into your hospital room,” I requested, leaning forward.
“I told them they could talk to my lawyer.” His response put a smile on my face.
“Good,” I praised. “I’m warning you, Jake. You’re not going to like this.”
“Get to the point, sweetheart,” Penny urged, thick anticipation in her voice.
“I doubt either of you remembers this, because you were going through a tough time back then,” I remarked, my gaze returning to my friend. “For different reasons, you believed you’d lost each other. The day after your outburst at Jake’s funeral, United’s stock went down eight percent. Reservations dropped by twenty-three percent. Both those numbers got worse in the following days.
About four weeks later, market experts estimated that United Airlines lost about sixty-five million dollars, which is a lot, even for one of the biggest companies in the industry. Remember: A grieving woman’s statement caused this. It was unsubstantiated. No one could verify it, but still, it caused one hell of a mess.”
“I’m still waiting for the point,” Penny complained, a touch of annoyance in her tone.
“That prologue was necessary for you to better understand my suggestion,” I added, my voice dropping an octave. “I failed to mention it earlier, but I have another reason to not like your idea of an interview. If Jake accuses them publicly for trying to destroy him, he’ll burn his bridges with them. There’s no way he’ll ever work for United, American Airlines or any major carrier again for that matter. He’ll be viewed as a rebel. Corporations don’t appreciate those. They cost too much. However, if he keeps his silence, he’ll…”
“No, no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his index finger. “You’re suggesting I ask United for my old job back. Am I right?”
“Yes!” I nodded, my eyes widening. “It’s the most prestigious, well-paid job you and Michael have ever had. Why shouldn’t you?”
“Because I don’t trust them anymore. That’s why!” He yelled, anger darkening his gaze. Pressing his fingers to his forehead, he shut his eyes. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to be helpful here, but I just lost it. How long have you been working at the Bulletin, Ava?”
“Seven years, give or take,” I answered, resting my elbows on my thighs.
“Penny’s told me about a hundred times how you two love to work there, because you and your editor get along so well,” Jake said, his voice back in its normal registers. “You trust him, and he trusts you. Would that be the case if you thought he’d stab you in the back the first chance he got?”
