by Merri Hiatt
“Count me out. I’m doing a turnaround,” Randee said.
“I’ll join you, if men are allowed,” Captain Johnson said.
“The more the merrier,” Geri said.
When they’d all checked in at the Ballinger Air lounge and entered their final flight information in the computer, they headed to Rock ‘N Sushi, a favorite restaurant in town and the only way Jenny could manage to swallow raw fish, with lots of alcohol.
They ordered three sampler plates along with a pitcher of beer. Jenny downed a glass before taking a bite of sushi.
“You’re such a weenie. What is it about fish that makes you so squeamish?” Aida asked.
“The texture. The taste. I don’t know. The fact that it’s raw. How come no one ever talks about getting food poisoning from eating raw fish?”
“I think it’s only bad to eat raw protein when it isn’t fresh and cleaned properly,” Brendan said. “There are people who eat raw meat without getting sick.”
“I’ll stick with vegetables,” Geri said.
“I didn’t realize tequila was a vegetable,” Jenny said.
“Have some squid.” Geri pushed the plate of sushi toward her.
“I’d rather have more beer, thanks.”
“What do you think’s going to happen to Mr. Pin Striped Suit?” Aida asked.
“Depends on who he really is. His ID was fake. He has priors.” Brendan reached for the squid Jenny turned down.
“What good does it do to take down a plane full of people? Wouldn’t it be easier to just put a bomb in a building or something? I don’t really get terrorism.” Geri reached for the pitcher of beer for a refill.
“Scares people, makes them feel unsafe.” Jenny held her hand out to take the pitcher and filled her glass again. “Once you have someone looking over their shoulder and acting paranoid, you’ve got them.”
“Jenny’s right,” Brendan said. “They play on fear. If that’s been firmly planted, it doesn’t matter if they actually do anything ever again because it’s already embedded in your brain. You’re already thinking about it, whether you realize it or not.”
“And our behavior changes,” Aida said.
“Exactly,” Jenny said.
“Nothing a glass of beer can’t solve,” Geri said. When everyone stared at her, she said, “What? I’m serious. If we could sit down with the people who hate us and talk like regular people, we’d find a lot of common ground.”
“Vodka is common ground?” Aida asked.
“It can be.”
“How serious are you and the guy you were telling me about earlier?” Brendan asked Jenny.
“I barely know him. Why?”
He ran his thumb along her forearm. “You’re here. I’m here. We’re both staying overnight.”
Aida cleared her throat. “Hello? We can hear everything you’re saying.”
“Hey, I’m not opposed to having all of you come back to my hotel room.”
There was a slight pause before the women began laughing.
“Now there’s an offer we can’t refuse,” Geri said. “Get drunk, sleep with the captain and several of your friends, then wake up with a hangover and a yeast infection. Lovely.”
“Damn, Geri, I think we need to cut you off.”
“Don’t like the truth, cap’n?”
“Just don’t like a mean drunk.”
“You haven’t even seen me drunk, baby.”
“I think this may be my cue,” Jenny said.
“Me, too,” Aida agreed.
“Now you’re all leaving?” Brendan said.
“I’m staying, Bren. You can count on me.”
“Great. The only one I didn’t want to stay.”
“Hey!”
“Don’t like the truth, Ger?”
“Are you okay to get to your hotel?” Aida asked Geri.
“I’m fine. Ol’ Bren will take care of me, if I’m not. Won’t you, Bren?”
Brendan leaned back in his chair, eyeing the three women. “This is the last time I crash a Skirt party.”
Aida rolled her eyes. “Say good night, Gracie.”
“Good night, Gracie,” Jenny said.
“Who’s Gracie?” Geri asked.
“Oh, man,” Brendan said.
“Are you sure you don’t want a ride back to the hotel?” Aida asked Geri again.
“I’ll make sure she gets back safely,” Brendan said.
“You’re a good man, Bren.” Geri patted his hand roughly.
“Or something like that,” Brendan said.
“He’s a real saint,” Jenny said.
Brendan lifted his glass up toward Jenny, “Back atcha, babe.”
Chapter Twelve
After a restful sleep, Jenny enjoyed a morning swim in the heated hotel pool, then showered and gathered her belongings so she could check-out. She had plenty of time to get to the airport for her flight.
The only excitement on the return trip to Seattle was the pop star Allysa McMasters obvious presence in first class.
“I hate celebrities!” Cassidy Reynolds dumped the diet cola with extra ice down the sink. “Her highness says the ice is too cold.”
“Sensitive teeth?” Jenny asked.
“Ice is ice. It’s supposed to be cold. If it was warm ice, it would be water.”
“Can you see nipple yet?”
“No. I’m guessing in another ten minutes.”
“That would make Miranda the winner.”
“Is it really that hard to find a shirt that fits over your boobs?”
“Maybe you can fill her in on where to shop.”
Miranda Barton made her way toward the duo. “Allysa wants her soda now. No ice. But, it has to be cold. Not too cold, but cold.”
“Anyone have a thermometer?”
“Bring her two or three choices and let her pick,” Jenny said.
“Good idea. It will save me from having to come back here again when she’s not happy.”
“Hey, did you hear about the ghost flight tonight?” Miranda said.
Cassidy stopped in her tracks as she juggled four soft drinks. “Ghost flight?”
“The only thing aboard will be body bags.”
“Why?” Jenny asked.
“They’re moving a cemetery from the West Coast to the East Coast.”
“Why?” Jenny asked again.
“Something about property lines, bodies not being buried deep enough and no room to rebury them.”
“I’m glad I’m not working that flight. You shouldn’t disturb the dead,” Jenny said.
“Have you ever worked a ghost flight?” Cassidy asked.
Jenny shook her head.
“I have. It’s creepy. Not a passenger in sight, yet you can feel their presence.”
“Do they have to run with a full crew on that kind of flight?” Miranda asked.
“Skeleton crew.”
“Is that story real or did you just want to use that punch line?” Jenny asked.
“It’s real all right, but I did want to use the punch line.”
When the flight touched down and the passengers were safely on their way to their destinations, the FAs wasted no time heading to the Ballinger Air flight lounge. They filled out their paperwork and submitted it, then said their goodbyes.
Jenny found herself lingering by the large windows overlooking the runway. Several baggage vehicles were making their way along the tarmac.
“Richard, are you in one of those trucks?” Jenny bit her lower lip, then headed over to the scheduling counter.
“Stacy, can you tell me if Richard Novatney is working today?”
“Is that the baggage handler? You found out his name before I did.”
“I ran into him again in the corridor.”
“Do I still get the cookies?”
“Of course.”
“Let me check.” It only took a few taps of her fingers on the keyboard for the answer to be revealed. “Yes. He’s assigned to flight #212.” Stacy sh
uddered.
“What?”
“Ghost flight. He’ll be loading bodies for quite a while.”
“Not by himself, though, right?”
“He’s alone for the first hour, then Charles Peterson will be joining him.”
“How many bodies?”
“Six hundred and nine. They’ll have to stack one on top of the other.”
Both women felt a chill shimmy down their spine.
“Is there some way I can get a pass to be on the runway?”
“During a ghost flight? Heavens no. Everyone will be on high alert. They don’t want even one body unaccounted for or there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Thanks, Stacy. I appreciate your help.”
“Anytime.”
Jenny returned to the lounge, waiting for another FA to show up so she could bum a ride home. She’d be seeing Rich tomorrow anyway for her first driving lesson. It was only a day away.
As she pressed her fingers to the glass, she wondered what Rich thought of handling all those bodies.
“Hi, Jenny. What are you still doing here?” Captain Alexander asked.
“Waiting for a ride home.”
“Is someone coming to pick you up?”
“No. I need a mercy ride.”
“I’m headed toward Mill Creek. I’d be happy to give you a lift if you’re going that way.”
“That would be great! I live in Mountlake Terrace.”
“This is your lucky day.”
Captain Alexander insisted on giving her curbside service.
“You really didn’t have to go so far out of your way. I just wanted you to drop me off at the intersection closest to the freeway.”
“That’s two miles from here.”
“Walking is good for me.”
“It may be good for you, but you shouldn’t have to do it in heels lugging cargo.”
“I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. I’m getting my first driving lesson tomorrow, so hopefully I’ll be able to drive myself in the near future.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
The house seemed to welcome Jenny when she opened the door. Even though she’d only been gone a couple of days, it always felt good to come home.
“Pajamas, here I come. Everything else can wait until tomorrow.”
As she snuggled under her thick comforter surrounded by the familiar scents of her bedroom, she thought of Rich and Charles picking up black body bags with silver zippers, carrying them through dense fog and placing them inside the cargo hold of the plane. Again and again as the hour grew late and the sky darker.
She imagined they heard a sound; a low moan coming from one of the bags. Would they dare unzip it and look inside? Why weren’t the bodies buried in caskets? Were holes dug so long ago, before they used wood and nails to fashion a coffin, that bodies were simply placed inside and covered with soil?
What would it feel like to hold a body in your arms? Even if it wasn’t flesh-to-flesh, you knew you were holding more than skin and bone. This person had dreams, felt sorrow, experienced joy and pain, lived a life.
Do they know they’ve been uprooted? Does it change anything about their afterlife?
Jenny saw Richard hesitate before slowly lowering the zipper. The ripe stench of decay filled his nostrils. He coughed as bile rose high in his throat, but he didn’t stop.
He pulled the two sides of the bag apart to reveal its contents. Emaciated flesh with protruding bones met his eyes. Clothing half disintegrated and half embedded in such a way that you couldn’t tell what was leathery flesh and what was fabric.
Charles backed away slowly, not believing his eyes as the corpse’s mouth seemed to move ever so slightly as a whispered moan escaped through shredded lips.
Jenny thought she heard a word wrapped around the moan. She strained to hear as the vision became muddled and blurry. This time the words were unmistakable. “Richard.”
Jenny sat upright in bed, sweat dripping down her face and her heart beating rapidly. She jumped out of bed and ran to the light, needing to illumine every inch of space to blot out the images running through her mind.
As she looked around her room, her breathing began to even out. When it was steady again, she retrieved her cell phone from the charger, found Richard’s card and called him.
“Your dime.”
Jenny took a deep breath as her shoulders relaxed, allowing her neck muscles to slack their tension. “More like a quarter these days.”
“Jenny?”
“Yeah. I’m surprised you recognize my voice.”
“I’d know it anywhere. What’s up?”
“I was just… I had a… Are you okay?”
“Sure, why?”
“You’re working the ghost flight.”
“You heard. Everyone’s a bit freaked out by it all. I consider it an honor. We’re being entrusted with people’s loved ones. I’m usually carrying luggage around, that’s just possessions.”
“I never really thought about it like that. You have such a different perspective than I do. It’s fascinating. I want to sit at your feet and learn.”
“Just call me Buddha Novatney. Seriously, though, I think we learn a lot from each other.”
“I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I had sort of a weird dream.”
“Will you tell me about it tomorrow? We’re still on, right?”
“Yeah. And, yeah.”
“Good. Sleep well. I’ll see you soon.”
“Goodbye.”
Jenny reattached her cell phone to the charger and slipped back into bed. It was an honor to be responsible for people’s loved ones, living or dead. Rich was right.
This time when she fell asleep, her dreams were filled with visions of Richard gently caring for the ghost flight passengers. They would be delivered safe and sound. And, Rich was partly to thank for that.
It softened her heart to think he would take even more thoughtful care of his living loved ones. One of them might even include herself one day.
Chapter Thirteen
Laundry tumbled in the dryer as Jenny answered e-mails and returned phone calls. “You’d think I’d been gone a week.”
It was distraction therapy, but it was mostly working. She only felt anxiety for short periods of time; when she thought about explaining her issues with driving. “How can someone else help you when your problem is about sitting still?”
She told herself that Richard was probably an excellent teacher and would have some insight. She had nothing to worry about.
Her inner voice reminded her that she had repeated that phrase more than ten times throughout the day.
“Yes, I know.”
A knock on the door interrupted the discussion with herself.
“Richard. What are you doing here?”
“I can leave if you want.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m just surprised. I thought we were meeting later.”
“We were supposed to. I had some free time now. I figured you might be getting a little nervous.”
“You figured right.”
“Put on some shoes and let’s get to it.”
“Now?”
“No time like the present.”
Jenny’s stomach churned like the Devil’s Punchbowl on the Oregon Coast and chill bumps formed on her arms.
“I know you’re scared. It’ll pass.”
“What if it doesn’t? Are you prepared to have me throw up all over your car?”
Rich suppressed a smile, then closed the space between them. He gently ran his thumb across her cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”
Jenny added an accelerated heartbeat, trouble breathing and sweaty palms to her list of symptoms.
“Your hair is like silk.” He wound several strands around his finger then let them slide back in place when he let go. “Are you still thinking about driving?”
Jenny shook her head. Her lips parted as she leaned forward
, pressing her mouth to Rich’s. She closed her eyes as a warm sensation slid down her spine, settling in her knees. Her hands found their way around his neck, her fingers tugging lightly at his hair.
Their bodies aligned hip-to-hip when Rich’s arms surrounded her, pulling her closer still. Everywhere he touched seemed to be alive with nerve endings. They tingled and pulsed as he awakened the embers of fire lying just below the surface.
Rich leaned back so he could look into Jenny’s eyes. “I wanted to do that since the moment I met you.”
Jen’s smile formed slowly. “The timing was perfect.”
The pause that followed was filled with electric awkwardness. Jenny didn’t know whether to kiss Richard again, thank him for settling her driving nerves or ask him to come inside. “I’ll get my shoes.” She spun quickly out of his arms and into the house, shutting the door behind her.
After taking a few steps, she winced. She quickly reopened the door. “Sorry.”
“I love a woman who kisses me, then slams the door in my face.” Rich’s smile deflected any ill-will in his comment.
“Would you like to come in?”
“You’ll just be a minute, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll wait out here.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Forget about it.” He leaned forward and kissed her quickly on the cheek.
“It’s forgotten. I’ll be right back.”
True to her word, Jenny was back with sneakers in tow within less than a minute.
“I thought I’d take you to the old movie theater parking lot. The only thing you can hit there is a lamp post.”
“I’m not worried about hitting anything.”
Once they were in the car heading to their destination, Rich said, “I thought that was why most people didn’t want to drive.”
“That’s probably true.” Jenny shared the story about the accident.
“So, you’re worried about someone hitting you?”
Jenny nodded.
Rich thought for a moment. “I think defensive driving is what we’ll focus on. Ways you can respond if you think someone is going to hit you. First, we’ll start with the basics. If you have a good foundation, it makes everything else easier.”
“I already know all this stuff. It’s the other drivers I need help with.”
“We’ll get to that. Every car feels a bit different. You need to get to know the car first. I’m going to have you drive slow, then put the brakes on gently. Then, do it again, only this time slam on the brakes. Then, one more time, driving fast right from the start and then putting on the brakes. Got it?”
