Approaching the crying infant, I took measured steps over the bodies prone throughout the aisleway. I was focused on ending the grating cries.
Stopping in my tracks, I became riveted by the toothpick dog flying over my head—no longer constrained to its kennel. It landed on its owner’s dead body, before jumping up to freely run around my Aunt June. I immediately turned my attention to disabling the mini wolf.
I became distracted by a sudden commotion at the front of the plane that instantly rerouted my aim. I must proceed with the mission: disable any threat, protect Aunt June, and kill anything in my way to do so.
My head was throbbing.
My attention turned on the heavyset black man. He had just moved from his seat. I immediately chased him down like a dog. He didn’t see me coming. His body was turned away. Siccing the man, I tore into his back. My wet mouth tinged with the warm metal flavor, while I gnawed on his shoulder. I missed his neck from my distorted vision; the injured eyeball knocking against my cheek. The good eye was hindered by an angry throb beating my skull. Not from the man’s fists trying to bat me off—human fists don’t faze me—but from an ache caused by the high frequency airplane racket.
The man turned his body to face me, ripping away his shoulder flesh from my fangs. He reached down with his meaty paws to grab my front leg. My jaw locked around his thick lower arm. I started to shake it. But he was strong, and held as tightly to my leg, before giving it a brutal twist. We both heard the sound of the bone popping. My jaw automatically released from the unbreakable bite I had on his arm.
Grrrrrr.
The pain caused my remaining one eye to gush tears. I re-stabilized myself with my three spare legs. I was shaking my head to-and-fro, so I could see more clearly.
Whewwwwww!
A whistle.
They say dogs don’t see red—that was all I could see.
There was something inside of me feeding the savagery. I was doing what I had been trained for. It was my animal instinct. Accomplished through rigging the wolf DNA—ferocity is what I had been made for.
I reached down to steal one more mouthful of fatty muscle from the man’s chest. Chomping on it, my radar scanned for the sound maker.
The man I chewed on continued to moan. A mouth full of his meat dropped from my panting chops, saliva blending with blood to form long pink mucus tentacles, swinging from my open jaws.
The sound came from above the seats, near the trolley at the middle of the plane—near my Aunt June.
Whewwwwww!
My eye blurred. I burst down the aisle, temporarily forgetting I had been maimed. I tripped over the pile of dead bodies; sliding down the corpse mound. I was sputtering and flinging blood about the cabin. Quickly hopping back up to aim my imposing frame at the blinding sound. Snapping my razor-sharp teeth. I leaped for the woman, Carmen—I knew who it was by her smell—jasmine flowers.
I loved Aunt June. I would give my life to protect her. I am a GOOD dog.
38 Ezra Barkley
It had been her daddy’s idea to attempt an escape to the first-class section. She had wanted to stay in her seat like the captain had requested.
“Ezra get up and squeeze your body through that hole right there,” he had whispered to her, pointing his big gashed finger to the left of the curtain. “I’m gonna help you…don’t worry.”
The dog had attacked her daddy, as they battled the walled off passengers, trying to access their impenetrable high-class fortress. Ezra stopped struggling when she no longer felt his protective embrace—he had released her and fallen away. She turned around to find him being mauled by the ferocious dog. Ezra was paralyzed with fear, unable to move from her anchored position standing in the blocked corridor. Her daddy rolled about, writhing at her feet, fighting the beast off with all his might.
Then the beast was called by a whistle.
She slid to the floor and sat with her legs crossed next to her daddy. He moaned in agony from the crater size bite wounds covering his back and arms.
“Lord knows why anyone would purposely call that dog,” Ezra said to her daddy, her voice quivering.
With her long, thin trembling fingers she inspected her own face. It was puffy and tender to the touch from being repeatedly smacked by those people in first class.
She and her daddy became shaking leaves on a Weeping Willow during a hurricane.
“That lady will save us.” Ezra marveled at Carmen’s heroism.
She was dabbing at her daddy’s forehead with a paper drink napkin.
He moaned loudly.
“I’m so sorry Ezra,” he cried. “I shouldn’t've done that.”
She calmed him with her long soft fingers by gently caressing his face.
“I love you daddy…we’ll be okay.”
The second whistle had caused the dog to heave its barrelhead high in an attempt to track the loud sound. Taking a chunk from her daddy, the beast released him from its trenchant bite. The dog reeled around like a compass facing due north. A flap of her daddy’s flesh flew from its mouth and landed on her sneaker, before it clumsily stumbled towards the flight attendant.
The lady fearlessly stood upon the upright backs of the exit row seats. Ezra watched the dog leap into the air to destroy the whistling flight attendant.
Like a magician, the Amazing Carmen threw the dog for a loop, wrapping the seatbelt around its thick neck—poof—she disappeared from sight.
39 Maxine Martin
After Max was killed, his missing throat mesmerized his wife. It oozed blood from the exposed neck tendons; the emptiness tantamount to his missing face. Buster had all but beheaded her husband.
She felt a strange sense of relief. She wouldn’t have to watch Max suffer ever again. Maxine whimpered quietly. Tears flowed down each of her cheeks, connecting at the tip of her heart-shaped chin, before dripping onto her lap. She was perched alone in the empty row next to the window. The intimidating dog stood guard in the row behind her, next to its dead owner. She could hear the dog’s heavy breathing and panting. She could smell his bloody dog breath.
The baby started to cry again.
Maxine watched the dog lumber off towards the sound.
Yip…yip…yip! Bruno began rapidly barking and screeching in terror.
“Oh no!” She pulled herself up from her window seat to gain a better vantage.
The big dog stood in the aisle next to the baby, but it was looking towards the front of the plane to where Bruno was.
Lo and behold, Bruno became a small shooting star of yellow fur, flying down the aisle way. The little dog drifted over the big dog, landing next to her atop Max. With the soft landing on top of flesh, he rolled onto the floor, coming to a rest in a pool of blood that Aunt June had been submerged in. His yellow fur was matted down from slipping through the blackening human fluids.
She darted her eyes to the front of the plane to witness the monster dog deciding which it should kill next. Buster had three choices: the father at the front of coach, who had just tossed Bruno, the crying baby girl, who the dog had already showed interest in, or the beast could choose option three, her loose barking pooch Bruno.
The dog circled its massive frame around to home in on Bruno. It began galloping towards the little dog, bloodied lips flapping with each jolting step, sending saliva tentacles swinging to a jump rope rhyme. Bruno quickly realized the big dog’s choice had been made and hightailed it into the first row available. Scurrying into row 13, into the row with the sleeping middle-aged blond woman.
Yip…yip…yip!
Buster landed with a sliding thud next to its deceased elderly master. Turning its body to face the row Bruno had entered. The dog took several Hoover sniffs, one inspecting the air, and the other inhale scanning under the seats.
Then she watched the giant dog become distracted by an upheaval taking place in the front of the coach. Maxine turned her attention to see what the dog had focused on. The African American father was struggling to help his teenage daughter
attempt to break into the first-class section; seeking refuge from the brutal massacre happening in coach.
Switching gears, the monster dog turned and bolted towards the doomed father and his young daughter. The dad was leaning over his child, struggling with someone on the other side, so he didn’t see the killer dog approaching from behind. The unhinged animal charged the man, but in that moment, the man leaned in closer to swing his meaty fist at someone defending first class. This caused the mad dog to narrowly miss its target. The dog ended up biting into the man’s shoulder instead of its intended mark; the man’s neck for the kill shot.
“Arrrrrrrgh,” the man thundered in agony.
Maxine watched the dad dropping to the floor, with the dog clamped tightly to the upper back side of his body. She could see him struggling on his knees to get away, his faded black shirt quickly saturating with his blood. He was fighting the dog with his fists, awkwardly punching at his own back, where the dog had latched on. His eyes wild with fear. The man’s daughter gave up on her attempts for safe passage into the blockaded section. She stood motionless, surveying the gruesome scene playing out at her too big feet, and awaiting her own fate.
Maxine could hear the man’s fists punching, as he grunted, struggling with the overpowering dog.
The Pitbull was growling viciously.
The bone rattling sound of an Aztec death whistle screamed from behind her.
Whewwwwww!
Maxine twisted back to find the sound’s source. Carmen, the flight attendant several rows behind, was squatting atop the seat backs. She balanced on her bare feet, with her body leaning lightly against the storage compartment above. She appeared to be hovering above the dog’s owner. Carmen wore a passenger’s neck pillow, decorated with fishing lures, duct taped around her neck. Her manicured nails held a noose.
Maxine’s mouth dropped wide open as she watched Carmen put two French tipped fingers between her lips and whistled again, Whewwwww!
The giant dog stopped its mauling to look for the chilling high-pitched sound, ripping one last chunk of muscle, fat, and t-shirt from the man on the ground. The dog glared up at the flight attendant with its remaining hostile amber eye.
A fierce snarl contorted its face before it barreled towards Carmen. Maxine noticed the dog was off balance from the missing eye and what appeared to be an injured front leg. Tromping over the pile of bodies it slipped through the blood puddles, before landing next to its owner’s flowered corpse. The dog struggled to stand, before awkwardly repositioning itself to leap into the air and tackle Carmen from her perch. With the impeccable timing of a skilled cowboy lassoing a bull, Carmen wrapped the safety demonstration seatbelt around the dog’s neck, falling backwards from the seats into the row behind, dragging the end of the seatbelt with her. The thick strap became taut around the giant dog’s neck. The dog struggled to find its footing. Grappling with her slight body weight that held tightly to the strap from behind the seat. Buster was scrambling in his attempts to make her release the death grip on the seatbelt, biting and snarling at the air around it, jerking its head back and forth. It was the ultimate game of tug-of-war. He wheezed and struggled for a breath.
Then, Maxine watched as the dog began to gain its footing on the aisle seat. Its claws were ripping at the seat’s upholstery. Snapping its wide jaws to bite down on the headrest seat cushion. Buster then used his neck strength to pull his body up onto the seat.
It was like fishing Maxine thought.
“Don’t let the line have any slack!” Without thinking the words flew from her pink glossed lips.
The dog was building momentum. Its back toes gripped the upholstery, as it crawled its body weight onto the seat, relieving the tension that had been suffocating it. Maxine watched the dog take deep gagging breaths. His good eye bulged from the pumping oxygen.
Carmen was still pulling with all her ability, but her small frame had dropped to the ground when the dog propelled its weight towards her. She jerked back pulling the strap harder. This caused the seat belt noose to slip into the space between the two seats. The entire line went slack. Maxine was sure the dog was going to jump over the back of the seats and kill the flight attendant.
Carmen began reeling the belt strap, rapidly from the back side of the seat, wrenching it until she came eye to eye with the crazed Pitbull. They were staring at one another between the crack in the seat back cushions, its one good, yellow eye was only inches from Carmen’s own terror-filled, mascaraed eyes. Maxine could see the dog gasping for breath against the flight attendant’s face. It wheezed in its attempt at a growl—creating an ironic whistle. The unnerving struggle of its flailing claws scratched at the seat.
Maxine smelled the iron scent of blood permeating off the animal. Carmen yanked the seatbelt strap down harder. The massive dog could not pull away. Its legs kicked at the air for what seemed like an eternity. And then its struggle was finished.
Maxine could see the monster dog’s tongue fully extended from its mouth, one eyeball hanging by an optic string, and the other bulging from the strangulation. Capped in gore, the massive dog had stopped moving.
Maxine started to tweet out for Bruno, looking for tiny bloody paw prints to lead her to him.
“Come here little pumpkinhead,” Maxine sang. “Come to mama.
40 Ezra Barkley
“The dog is dead!” The flight attendant declared to the horrified passengers.
It was as if the plane had been holding its breath as one. Passengers started crying and shouting with relief. They clapped together for getting to live another day. Ezra watched the flight attendant tuck her shirt into her navy-blue skirt, stepping over the flowered corpse of the dog’s owner, her bare feet squishing into the blood-soaked carpet. Carmen quickly reached to the floor and collected the Glock 45 lying next to the old woman’s head. She placed the gun on top of the cart. As professionally as possible she slipped over the top of the seats to access the rear side of the cart. Unlocking its wheels, she began pulling the cart towards the rear galley. The mauled male flight attendant’s body that had been leaning against it flopped to the floor. Carmen kept pulling it, taking quick backward, barefoot steps to the rear of the plane.
People watched as the horror unfolded in front of them. The stage curtains opening to provide a full show of the slaughter that until that moment had been hidden by the trolley.
Passengers began screaming. The flight attendant looked to the massacre she had unwittingly exposed. The people were not screaming at the murderous surprise she had revealed, but instead had become discombobulated at the movement coming from row 15.
“FUCK ME!” Carmen sputtered.
Ezra’s saw the dog’s mutilated face, yanking back on the seat belt noose wrapped tightly around its neck. Buster began to drag himself upright and dislodge the seat belt from the crack between the seats, where it had become wedged. The momentum from pulling on the noose caused the dog to topple back into the aisleway, its body slumping down next to its owner.
Buster was alive and Carmen had just granted him access to the rear of the plane.
The birdie woman was rising from the floor of row 13, where she had been looking under the seats for her loose terrified dog. The old lady’s corpse was all that separated birdie from the fully breathing, revived, killer dog. The maniac animal was looking directly at the small woman hovering among the pile of dead bodies.
Out from under the seats, stepping between its owner and the mad dog, furious, bloodied Bruno materialized, growling most intimidatingly. The Pomeranian’s entire fur coat was as puffy as a ruthless cotton ball.
The flight attendant swiveled her stance. Thrusting her tiny hip into the cart to propel it at a full run towards the rising devil dog. The cart rammed into the male flight attendant Nicco’s body, and with a giant shove she capsized the metal box over his corpse, where it landed pinning both Nicco’s body and the silver pit to the aisle floor. The dog let out an anguished cry from the weight of the trolley. It began struggli
ng to pull its way out from under the heavy box; filled with beverages, soda cans, plastic cups, coffee and napkins, strewn about the brutal massacre.
This flight would be to the death.
Ezra saw that the gun had been catapulted up the aisle from the beverage cart collapse. The weapon now rested near the dead boy—out of reach. The dog continued to struggle to gain its freedom from under the weighted trap, snapping its teeth and jerking its body about in spasms. The flight attendant spotted the old woman’s silver elephant-handled cane. Crawling over the cart she was able to reach for the weapon laying on the floor in Aunt June’s row. The rabid dog was only a foot from her, with its gruesome fangs repeatedly snapping at her face. Buster kept lunging his upper torso at the flight attendant—just missing her. Grabbing the walking stick, Carmen pulled it close to her chest. She balanced on top of the tipped cart to apply an extra one hundred and ten pounds of weight and keep the dog from wriggling out. Raising the cane high above her head she came down with all her strength. The pointed tip made a cracking sound as it connected with the dog’s brick skull—then she repeated again and again—until the dog’s face resembled sangria’s burgundy citrus pulp. It was no longer recognizable as a dogface. She tossed the cane to the side when she was sure the dog was dead.
The flight attendant slipped her body off the cart and immediately B-lined it to the back of the plane.
“Please stay in your seats!” She demanded the passengers over the intercom. “This is Carmen your flight attendant speaking. The dog has been terminated.”
Raising her intonation, she chanted into the speaker, “If there is a doctor or nurse on board the flight PLEASE press the call button now!”
Beware of Flight Attendant Page 18
