Skid

by Rene Gutteridge

  “Next time try napping elsewhere!” Lucy snapped. The men’s bathroom. Men. Men!

  Don’t go there.

  As she stepped into the swarming traffic of hurried passengers, she adjusted her clothing and her headband, then took some lip gloss out of her Ziploc bag and applied it. This was not going to be about men. She wasn’t going to let him…them…the species…the subspecies…take any more of her time.

  And if it took milking a goat and staring at windmills to get her mind where it should be, then so be it.

  “I’ll do the walkaround,” Danny said, referring to the outside inspection that had to be done before takeoff. He was about to descend the Jetway stairs that led out to the Tarmac when one of the ground personnel walked over and waved his hand.

  “Captain’s already down there.”

  James and Danny peered out the Plexiglas at the Jetway. “Why is she down there?” Danny asked.

  “I told you, she’s weird,” James said.

  “Maybe she’s just thorough.”

  “Thoroughly weird.”

  Danny followed James onto the craft, where they were abruptly stopped at the cockpit by GiGi. “So we have a prisoner.”

  Danny thought she might be talking about him. He sort of felt chained to James’s mouth.

  “Apparently so,” Danny said. “We’ll board him before the rest of the passengers.”

  “Of course we’ll board him before the rest of the passengers,” GiGi snapped. “The question is, where do we put him. The answer is that we’ll put him in the very back. Let’s just hope that whoever is escorting him had the brains to wear something that doesn’t scream federal agency. It is such a pain when passengers get paranoid.”

  “I’ve boarded various prisoners,” James said, “and there’s never been any problem. Most people don’t even know they’re onboard.”

  One of the other flight attendants scooted up beside GiGi. Like a wildflower that had snaked itself through a thornbush, the blonde offered a wide smile and a firm handshake. “Kim Gilliam. Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Danny.”

  James stepped forward. “And I’m willing to bet the last time your roots were blond was in seventh grade.”

  Kim’s smile dropped.

  “I’m just kidding with you.” James snorted. “You look great. And GiGi’s hair looks eighty-three-point-two percent natural.”

  Danny shoved James toward the cockpit as he gave the women an apologetic glance. GiGi’s eyes could have melted steel. Kim looked like she would melt with embarrassment.

  “Get the checklist ready. I’ll be right back,” Danny said. He stepped out of the cockpit, closed the door, and cleared his throat.

  “That’s James. I’ll try to keep him out of your hair.” Danny swallowed. “I mean, out of your way.” He glanced at GiGi, hot and fuming like summer heat on a Tarmac. “Again, I’m sorry.” Thornbush. Wildflower. And now, ladies and gentlemen, a pansy.

  Stepping into the cockpit, Danny sat down and pulled out his maps. “It’s going to be a long flight if you keep this up.”

  “You gotta show them who’s in charge. If you don’t, they’ll start handing down orders.”

  Danny noticed James’s wedding ring. “You’re married?”

  “Yeah. Fifteen years.”

  Danny kept his mouth shut, but how a man like that could stay in a relationship for fifteen years made the mysteries of the Bermuda Triangle look like an eight-year-old’s magic trick.

  “You?”

  “Um. No. I was engaged. Didn’t work out.”

  Danny looked up and noticed something strange, and it wasn’t James. Bright yellow sticky notes stuck to various spots on the windshield like denim patches on a pair of jeans.

  “Are those…?”

  “Yeah.” James pointed to the one on the far left. “It has our flight number on it.”

  Danny studied the notes, which had everything from weather forecasts to wind direction written on them, until Kim appeared. “Our prisoner is here.”

  Danny and James followed Kim out of the cockpit. “Where is he?” James asked.

  “Down below. With the captain.”

  Danny and James walked down the Jetway stairs that led outside, where they found Captain Brewster-Yarley with a petite woman and a handcuffed man. The prisoner’s thin, white hair stood up like there was a breeze, except there wasn’t. He didn’t look dangerous, just old and tired.

  James cackled. “What’d he do? Rob a nursing home?”

  Danny hoped James would keep his mouth shut about the woman escorting the prisoner. She was around forty, with dishwater blond hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She carried a firearm and looked like she knew some serious self-defense moves for people just like James.

  She showed her badge and introduced herself as FBI Agent Dee Tasler. “This is Leendert Rijkaard. He should be on your manifest.”

  The man took a deep breath of morning air, closing his eyes for a moment. He must’ve been locked up for a long time if airport air seemed fresh.

  “I’m Captain C. J. Brewster-Yarley. This is Bubba and Boy,” the captain said, nodding toward Danny, then James. She walked forward to shake the agent’s hand. Danny smiled even though he didn’t get the joke. James didn’t smile. Agent Tasler didn’t look like she knew what to say.

  “I told you!” James whispered.

  “She’s kidding,” Danny whispered back.

  “No, she’s not. ‘Bubba’ and ‘Boy’ are what they used to call the engineer and navigator back in 1930 or whatever. This is what I’m talking about. It’s just going to get worse.”

  The captain glanced from the agent to the prisoner, inspecting them like they were part of the walkaround.

  Agent Tasler put away her badge.

  “Um, as is procedure,” Danny said, filling the silence, “we’ll board Mr. Rij…uh, Rik…”

  “Rijkaard,” the prisoner said.

  “Before the other passengers. We’ll seat him in the back of the plane.”

  “Okay to remove the handcuffs?” Agent Tasler asked.

  The captain spoke up. “Where is your other agent?”

  Danny looked around. There didn’t seem to be anyone else with these two.

  “He got sick last night. Food poisoning.” Agent Tasler nodded toward Rijkaard. “We both had the beef.”

  Rijkaard wasn’t following the conversation anymore, instead looking up at the windows of the plane. The flight attendants, clustered together, peered out the window. Rijkaard waved and grinned.

  “Knock it off, old man,” Tasler said.

  “I don’t like the idea that you’re escorting him by yourself,” the captain said.

  “I don’t like the idea either, but this is an extradition, and believe me, it’s going to be a lot easier to do it now than refile the paperwork and start this whole process over again. He’s harmless.”

  The captain regarded the prisoner, who seemed to be enjoying the female attention.

  “Want to—how do you say it—pat me down?” His English was a little hard to understand, but his intention was clear.

  Tasler yanked him closer. “Keep it up, Dutch boy.”

  “Are you going to be able to keep him under control?” the captain asked.

  “I won’t make a scene.” He grinned. “But I can no promise that my charm won’t be distracting.”

  “Keep the cuffs on him,” the captain said sternly, “and hand over your firearm.”

  “My firearm? I don’t see any reason why—”

  “It’s nonnegotiable. It’s my aircraft, and I won’t allow a dangerous weapon in the cabin.”

  Unfortunately, Danny thought, that didn’t apply to James.

  The agent sighed and handed over her gun.

  “Boy, escort them to their seats, please.” The captain stared forward, her feet spread and one hand tucked against her lower back.

  James returned to the plane, Tasler and Rijkaard in tow, and Danny wasn’t sure if he should follow or
stay.

  “You want me to…” Danny gestured in opposite directions with his thumbs.

  “Find out if Rijkaard is married.”

  Danny’s thumbs froze midair.

  “I’m joking with you, Bubba. Come on, let’s get this plane ready. It’s a beautiful day to fly.”

  Chapter 6

  Jake’s iPod, normally a nice distraction from the outside world, did little more than keep his paranoid thoughts from escaping out his ears. As he sat and waited to board the plane, he watched the people around him. Everyone looked predictably normal or abnormal, but nobody looked like they wanted anything from him.

  His mind waded through the murky waters of regret. He’d always despised people who couldn’t be satisfied. In his many years as a musician barely making ends meet, he’d met his fair share of those who couldn’t be happy unless they had more. He’d also met cheapskates who wanted the entertainment free. His band played venues that promised one amount but paid another when it was over.

  He’d determined long ago not to want more than he had, and everything was going as planned until Idya Van Der Mark offered him more than he had. That’s what bothered him. Why hadn’t he refused it? What had compelled him to carry five diamonds, not to mention his life, over the Atlantic Ocean for an old woman he’d never met?

  Through the course of his hardly remarkable life, he’d wondered what it would have been like to have more family. He was an only child, and his parents had died within two years of each other. But he’d never known anything else, so what was so appealing about a distant grandmother who spoke English only when forced? His parents had once explained to him that she was kind of old school, proud to be Dutch and intolerant of English seeping into their world at every turn. It stung her when they’d decided to move to the United States. She disliked the bigness of America, from the cars to the food to the ego.

  He pondered his motivation. It certainly wasn’t the thrill or the challenge of it all. He was a musician, so motivation wasn’t one of his strengths. He would eat off the dollar menu for the rest of his life if it meant he could sleep until three in the afternoon.

  Jake’s gaze roamed the crowd, but nobody caught his eye. The only person looking at him was a three-year-old who had his finger plugged up one nostril. Still, Jake’s heartbeat had yet to find a comfortable rhythm after being startled awake by a woman dressed from head to toe in polka dots.

  He dreaded the long trip, but he knew how to sleep just about anywhere, so he hoped the time would pass with a good, long nap on the plane.

  The diamond pouch taped to his belly did nothing for comfort, though. Duct tape could hold miles of pipeline together, so he figured it would hold five small diamonds on a slightly pooched, dollar-menu belly. Ripping it off once he got there—if he got there—would prove painful but profitable. It couldn’t be worse than having back hair waxed, which their drummer did three summers ago to impress a woman who didn’t even shave her underarms.

  He turned up the volume on his iPod and closed his eyes, lacing his fingers together over his stomach and sliding his hips down so that his neck rested against the back of the chair. It was hard not to daydream of how he might spend the money. First, he’d have a six-dollar hamburger with caramelized onions and two sides of onion rings. After that, things weren’t as planned out, but he had twelve hours in an airplane to give it more thought.

  Then he heard a snort.

  It wasn’t from an old man with a handkerchief either.

  Jake pushed his heels against the carpet and sat up, opening his eyes.

  What he saw made him wonder if someone had slipped something into his cinnamon roll. Or maybe paranoia caused people to hallucinate.

  Either way, a pig stared back at him.

  The captain went to the back of the plane. James followed Danny, his hands clasped behind his back, into the cockpit. “So, am I Bubba, or are you?”

  “That’s ridiculous. She isn’t going to call us that for the entire flight. She probably just has a dry sense of humor.” Unlike James, who had a dry sense of obnoxiousness.

  “All I know is that we’re not supposed to ask her about the Bermuda crash.”

  “I know. You told me.”

  “The last guy who did is now flying regional jets across Nevada.”

  “Then why did you?”

  “I didn’t. I was making general references about the Bermuda Triangle on a whiteboard.”

  The captain appeared, taking her seat and pulling out the clipboard.

  “I apologize that you had to do the walkaround,” Danny said. “I was on my way out there when—”

  “I didn’t have to do it. I always do it. I’m the captain of the airplane, and it’s my responsibility to make sure that everything checks out. I once had a baggage handler ram into the back wheel. He didn’t want to get into trouble, so he didn’t tell anyone. I caught it only on the second walkaround. I’ve also caught pins still in because the red flag fell off. You can’t just look for the flags. Because sometimes the flags fall off.” She lowered her voice, like she might when gossiping about someone in the room, and added, “The moral of the story is that there may be red flags in your life you don’t see because the flag fell off.”

  Danny pressed his lips together. A chuckle fluttered in his belly, but he wasn’t sure if he should allow it out or suppress it. Was she joking or giving genuine advice? James just smirked.

  GiGi appeared at the door. “We’ve got a problem.”

  “With the prisoner?” Danny asked.

  “Yeah, he’s going to be problem, I can already tell. But no, that’s not the problem I’m talking about.”

  “What is it?”

  “The woman, the blind woman, she’s got a…a…” GiGi, Danny had noticed, talked with her hands, so since her arms hung by her side, she looked at a loss for words.

  James said, “They already alerted us that she’ll be boarding with a dog.”

  GiGi punched a fist onto her hip. “You’re sure about that?”

  James turned in his seat. “Yes, Double G, I’m sure. I spoke to the gate agent earlier. And just in case nobody’s up on proper Seeing Eye dog protocol, you don’t pet it or feed it.”

  “Yeah, well, what do you happen to do if it’s a hog?” GiGi’s expression showed no signs of a punch line. “It’s a hog, not a dog. A hog. A fat, potbelly thing on a leash. It’s got a snout and…and hoofs and…” GiGi looked like she could cry.

  The captain stood. “Where?”

  GiGi pointed out to the Jetway. The captain left the cockpit and Danny and James scrambled behind her.

  Sure enough, on the Jetway with the gate agent stood a woman in dark sunglasses, looking slightly off to the left, and a pig. It looked hungry, though Danny imagined he was stereotyping, since there was no evidence the pig was hungry.

  James’s mouth hung open, GiGi’s eyes glowed with terror, and Danny found his quivering belly laugh had fled, but the captain didn’t look alarmed.

  The gate agent approached Captain Brewster-Yarley.

  “Her name?” the captain asked.

  “Anna Sue Givens.”

  “I see.”

  “And she doesn’t, which is why we have the animal.” James smiled.

  “Shut up,” Danny said.

  “The animal’s name is Chucky,” the gate agent added.

  “Why not throw in an ‘n’ and make it Chunky?” James asked.

  GiGi stepped backward as the pig’s snout hit the carpet and started rooting around. “We can’t have a pig on this airplane! Where’s it going to sit? How are we going to get it in a seat?”

  The captain turned to Danny. “Bubba, get Ted on the phone.”

  He had no idea who Ted was.

  “Ted,” the captain repeated. “Get him on the phone. Find out what to do.”

  Danny went back to the Jetway phone. Kim, who’d been hanging out by the door and listening, followed him.

  “Who is Ted?” Danny asked her.

  “Ted
?”

  “Captain said to get Ted.”

  Danny bit his lip. He didn’t know who Ted was, and he had no idea who to call to find out, so he did the only thing he knew to do, which was dial the airport operator.

  “Yes…um, this is First Officer Danny McSweeney on Atlantica Flight 1945 to Amsterdam. We’re at the gate and, um, we’ve got a pig that needs to board. It’s a seeing-eye animal with a, uh, seeing-impaired woman, so…”

  A long pause was followed by, “Sir, it’s illegal to call airports with pranks—”

  “This isn’t a prank.” Danny looked at Kim, who chewed a fingernail as she listened to the call. “I’m just not sure what department…um…is Ted there?”

  “Let me connect you to security.”

  “Wait, but—”

  She put him on hold.

  Kim said, “Don’t we have a Disabilities Act specialist?”

  “We do?”

  “I think so.”

  The phone clicked again. “Security.”

  “Um…can you transfer me back to the operator?”

  “Hold.”

  “You’re sure we have that?” Danny asked Kim.

  “I think I read it in a memo or in training or something.”

  Another click. “Operator.”

  “I need the Disabilities Act specialist,” Danny said.

  “Are you the same person that just called about the—”

  “Can you just connect me?”

  “Hold on.” Danny could hear her flipping through what sounded like a phone directory. Then she said, “Huh. Okay. I’ll transfer you.”

  The phone rang a few times, and then voice mail picked up. “Hi, this is Stephanie Rose, Disabilities Act specialist. I’m away from my desk. Please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.”

  Danny hung up the phone. “She’s not there. Her name is Stephanie Rose.”

  “I’ll call dispatch,” Kim said. “See if they can track her down.”

  Danny returned to the Jetway, where everyone stood watching the pig. “I didn’t find Ted, but we’re tracking down Stephanie Rose—”

  “Stephanie. That’s what I meant,” the captain said.