Redeye

by Becca Jameson

  The moment the fasten seatbelt light went off, the girl closest to the back rose. The man turned around and grabbed her forearm, pulling her in close and speaking into her ear.

  She nodded and then turned toward the back, lips pursed.

  Christa’s heart pounded as the girl approached. She pasted on a smile and kept her voice low. “Can I get you anything, miss?”

  The girl lowered her gaze and shook her head as she pointed toward the bathroom.

  Christa backed up. “Ah. Sure. Let me get the door for you.” She pushed the door open, wanting to engage this girl further. “It’s a bifold. Just push the center to close it and turn the lock.” The girl nodded and rushed inside.

  Shit. There was no real reason for Christa to be so alarmed. After all, there were a thousand possible scenarios here. The chances that this girl was being transported against her will were slim.

  Nevertheless, Christa didn’t like the way her skin crawled, so she placed herself casually between the restroom and the seats so that the girl couldn’t flee too quickly. Bex was nowhere in sight. She was still at the front, probably huddled with the other two attendants.

  When the bathroom door squeezed open, Christa spun around slowly and smiled. “Girls’ trip?”

  The girl took a step back and rubbed her arm, not meeting Christa’s gaze. “Uh, yeah.”

  “That’s fun. Is it one of your birthdays?”

  “Yep.” The girl shuffled her feet. She was dressed in a short jean skirt, sneakers, and two tank tops, layered. Her lacy bra strap was showing. Her hair was long and thin and hadn’t been combed in a while.

  “What did you guys get to do in L.A.?”

  The girl glanced past Christa and then shrugged. “Stuff.”

  “The beach? Disney?”

  She nodded. “Yep. It was great.”

  “Oh, did you get to go to Mammoth?”

  She nodded again.

  “How was the snow? Is it still good skiing?”

  The girl sighed. “Sure. Can I get back to my seat?” She stepped forward, but didn’t touch Christa.

  “Of course. Do you want a soda or something first? You could take it back to your seat with you. Might be a while before I get to your row.”

  Christa set a hand on the girl’s shoulder and gently directed her toward the galley past the bathroom.

  The girl glanced over her shoulder, stiffening. “I need to get back,” she murmured.

  “It’ll just take me a second. Coke?”

  “Fine.”

  Christa grabbed a cup, filled it with ice, and popped the top on a can of Coke. As she poured it, Bex returned.

  “Hey there,” Bex stated. “Ah, you found out what a softy Christa can be.” She winked.

  The girl’s face turned red. “Yeah, I need to get to my seat.”

  Christa ignored her as she continued to pour the drink as slowly as possible. Bex was totally blocking the aisle anyway. She turned to look at Bex over her shoulder. “Girls’ trip. They even went skiing in Mammoth.”

  Bex’s brows lifted before she swallowed. “Man, I’ve been wanting to get to the mountains for a while. I bet the snow was amazing.”

  “Yeah.” The girl took a breath. She was fidgeting.

  A deep voice behind Bex made Christa almost drop the can of soda. “Hey, what are you doing? Stop bothering these ladies. Get back to your seat.” He was frowning, and his voice was gruff as he grabbed the girl by the biceps and tugged at her.

  As she slinked between everyone, he looked at Christa. Stared at her hard. It was tough not to react. “She ask you for a drink?”

  Christa schooled her face and smiled broadly. “Not at all. I offered her one.”

  “What’d she tell you? She’s always making shit up.”

  Christa forced herself to remain calm. “I hear ya. My younger sister is about her age. Always trying to get attention.” She somehow managed to keep her hand steady as she held out the glass of Coke.

  He grunted, ignored the drink, and turned to go back to his seat.

  “Fuck,” Bex muttered. “There is no snow in Mammoth right now.”

  “Yeah, I know. Now what do we do?”

  “We have no choice. While we’re serving the snacks and drinks, I’ll go inform the cockpit and the other flight attendants. The cockpit will arrange for police on the ground in Dallas.”

  Christa nodded. She was right. These people were too suspicious. As they started serving drinks, the girl who had used the bathroom sat with her arms crossed, staring at her feet. Christa noticed she had nothing with her except for a small purse that sat tucked into the seat in front of her, the gold chain strap hanging down.

  Christa offered her a bag of pretzels and the girl took them. She wanted to ask her questions, but feared the wrath of the man just one seat up and across the aisle.

  When she moved up to his row, she confirmed that not one of them had any belongings tucked under the seats. That was a huge red flag. They weren’t all the same age, either. One looked closer to seventeen. One was perhaps as young as twelve.

  None of them were speaking to each other. They all had long hair that looked dank and in need of washing. Like they were homeless, but not quite that. More like they had been traveling for two days.

  When Christa leaned over the man to offer the two girls drinks, he spoke for them. “They’ll have water.”

  Christa somehow managed to pour water for all three of them and the girl across the aisle without spilling it or dropping it. “There you go. Enjoy your flight. Let me know if you need anything else,” she added cheerfully before continuing up the aisle.

  She remembered almost nothing for the rest of the drink service. She couldn’t even say if she’d been polite or if she’d skipped any rows. She didn’t breathe fully until she was back in the galley.

  Bex joined her and leaned in close, glancing back to make sure no one could hear them. “The marshal and captain have been informed.”

  Christa wasn’t about to ask how the hell Bex managed that without alerting the other passengers. She didn’t want to continue whispering any more than necessary so no one would notice.

  Christa chewed on her bottom lip over and over. It was hard to remain still. She kept glancing at the motley group. None of them moved. They didn’t speak or giggle or lean into each other. Not once.

  They didn’t know each other, and they’d obviously been threatened if they drew attention to themselves. At least that’s what Christa dreamed up over the next hour.

  When it was reasonable, she and Bex pushed the drink cart up the aisle again, collecting empties and asking if anyone needed anything else.

  “We’re fine,” the man declared, not giving any of his charges a chance to speak.

  Christa noticed something else that hadn’t dawned on her. None of the girls had a phone. Not one. She hadn’t seen a kid without a phone glued to their hand for years.

  She was shaking by the time she returned to the back of the plane. Sweat had gathered on her neck. “I’m freaking out,” She whispered to Bex.

  “You and me both.”

  “What do you think is going to happen?”

  Bex shrugged. “I’m not sure. The air marshal will head back this way the moment we hit the ground.”

  Christa inhaled slowly and nodded, trying to calm her nerves.

  “You should text Mack,” Bex stated.

  Christa twisted her gaze toward Bex. “Why? What could he do?”

  Bex shrugged. “I don’t know but he’s got pull. Those guys all do. They weren’t regular Army soldiers. I’m certain of that. He probably knows something or someone.”

  Christa considered her friend’s words as the plane descended. It wasn’t a bad idea. At least he would know what was happening and he could tell the others. Or hell, maybe he wouldn’t even get the text. It was four in the morning.

  Breaking airline policy, Christa powered up her phone five minutes before landing and sent off a text.

  Bex and I think
four teenage girls are being trafficked on this flight. We’ve alerted the authorities. Air marshal is on board. Landing in five.

  She shoved the phone back in her pocket, leaving the volume off so no one would be alerted if a return text came in.

  The second the wheels hit the ground, she drew in a breath, leaning into the aisle to watch for whatever might happen next.

  Bex stood quickly, before it was safe.

  Christa was shocked by her friend’s ability to react under pressure. She was usually the quietest one of the group. Apparently, she was calm under pressure though.

  Before the plan came to a full stop, she moved up the aisle, paying no attention to the suspicious people, just walking casually as if she did this every flight. It was a brilliant idea actually because she blocked the view of the air marshal who was moving toward the back of the plane. It kept the suspicious man from noticing anything was amiss until the last second.

  Just as the plane rolled to a complete stop, Bex stepped out of the aisle into a vacant spot and the air marshal passed her.

  He stopped at the man’s seat.

  Christa held her breath. She’d also come to her feet and was standing between the vacant back rows. What if she’d been wrong and this was just someone’s dad taking his daughter and her friends on vacation? She would feel awful.

  The marshal spoke. “Can I see your ID, sir?”

  The guy sat up straighter. “What’s going on?”

  “ID, sir.” The marshal held out his hand.

  The guy gave no indication he was going to comply and then he got belligerent. “No, you may not see my ID. I don’t even know who you are.” He started to rise.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to remain seated until the plane deboards, sir.”

  The man stood. “Not a fucking chance. We’ve got places to be. Fuck off.”

  The marshal stood solid in the aisle, hands on the backs of the seats at his sides, feet planted wide. “Sit down.”

  There were only eight other passengers in the back of the plane besides the four girls. They started murmuring and several of them rose.

  Christa tapped one woman on the arm and motioned for her to move to the back of the galley. She grabbed her young son and hurried to follow Christa’s advice.

  Two other women saw what was happening and followed. That left an older gentleman traveling alone, and three men in their early thirties. Two of them were together, and they rose to stand in the aisle, blocking it entirely as if their sense of heroism had kicked in. The four girls and their presumed handler were now trapped between the marshal and the two men.

  The girl Christa had spoken to at the beginning of the flight whimpered and dropped to the floor between the seats.

  Christa could see her huddling in the corner. Shaking. Rocking against her knees. Facedown. Christa grabbed one of the men in the aisle and pointed at the girl. He nodded. He was paying attention. He then stepped into her row to protect her.

  The girl seated across the row from her handler unbuckled her seatbelt and moved closer to the window. She glanced at Christa, who motioned for her to try and get to the back of the plane.

  While the marshal argued with the man who was pumping his chest out and pointing a finger, the girl across the aisle climbed over the top of her seat, right over the top of the girl behind her. She kept coming until she could get to the aisle and rush to the back.

  She slammed herself into Christa’s body, sobbing softly. “It was you, wasn’t it? Thank you.”

  Christa hugged her close. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered.

  “I was so scared.”

  “I know.”

  The volume in the plane got louder as passengers in the front stood to gather their belongings. Most of them probably had no idea what was going on in the back.

  Christa judged the air marshal to be about six feet tall. He was fit but blended in. The man confronting him was almost the same height but not as fit. However, surprising Christa, the guy suddenly lurched forward, grabbed the marshal’s arm, and twisted it behind his back.

  Someone screamed in front of them as the air marshal leaned into the seats. The two men wrestled for control, and then suddenly the handler gave a hard jab to the marshal’s gut. While the marshal bent forward, his assailant reached over his body, pulled up his jacket, and grabbed his gun from the holster.

  Several more people were screaming now.

  The man protecting the first young girl leaned down and motioned for her to crawl out and get to the back.

  The marshal reared up and slammed his head into the assailant’s jaw, but that only pissed the man off further. Suddenly, he was in control, and he lifted the gun in the air. “Get back. Get the fuck back,” he screamed.

  The marshal lifted his hands in the air and stepped back a few inches. He glanced both ways, yelling, “Everyone, get down.”

  People near them scrambled to lower their bodies and protect their heads.

  “Give me the gun, man. You don’t want to do this. You’re making it much worse for yourself.”

  “Fuck you,” the man shouted. He grabbed the young girl next to him by the hair and yanked her to her feet.

  She was crying, and her eyes were wide.

  “You too. Come with me,” he shouted at the other girl. He was still holding the gun on the marshal as he glanced across the aisle, seeming to just that second realize the other girls were no longer in sight.

  The service door at the rear of the plane opened with a woosh. It was dark outside, so it was hard to see what was happening. Christa wasn’t sure if whoever opened the door knew about the skirmish or not. She shuffled back several feet to look and found that instead of food service entering the back of the plane, two police officers came in.

  Christa was grateful to see them entering, but she only glanced at them before turning back around to face the man swinging the gun. He jerked the girl he had by the hair until her back slammed into his chest, and then he started backing down the aisle.

  The girl was whimpering. She looked scared out of her mind, and Christa couldn’t blame her. She was almost as scared. There was no way to know how unhinged this guy was or what he might be capable of. Would he shoot someone?

  Christa was in the way, and she wasn’t sure what to do.

  Behind her, one of the cops yelled, “Police, drop the gun!”

  Christa shoved into one of the rows, heart racing, eyes on the girl who was clawing at the man who still held her by the hair. If Christa could find a way to get the assailant to exchange her for the young girl, she would. He was inching down the aisle toward the rear of the plane, swinging the gun around, but the moment the police shouted, he turned toward them.

  In a flash of motion, the man suddenly dropped the girl. He didn’t just release her; he flung her behind him. In less than a second, he grabbed Christa by the arm and yanked her in front of him. He switched from swinging the gun around to holding it against her temple.

  Adrenaline coursed through Christa’s blood. She’d accomplished her goal, she’d also stopped breathing as she began to panic. The man adjusted his grip and held her by the neck, the gun against her face. “Get the fuck out of my way!” he screamed at the cops and everyone else in the back of the plane. “Now!”

  As he continued walking, Christa had trouble getting her feet to cooperate. He was mostly dragging her.

  Panic set in as he shoved between the people and the cops stepped out of the way. They had their guns drawn, but they could do nothing. The moment the crazed man yanked Christa out of the back of the plane and onto the boarding stairs, she really started to fear for her life.

  Chapter 28

  Mack didn’t think he’d ever driven as erratically as he was this morning, not even on a rescue mission in a dangerous war zone.

  It was a miracle he’d forgotten to mute his phone when he’d gone to bed. He’d actually been staring at it before he went to sleep, reading and rereading the message from Christa saying she�
�d wanted to talk to him.

  He hadn’t responded. For one thing, he’d assumed she was on her flight before he got it. He’d been trying to think of something he could say. Anything that wouldn’t make him sound like a love-sick puppy.

  Now that he’d gotten a second message from her that made his blood run cold, he wished he’d responded.

  There was no reason for him to be in such a panic. Just because she’d identified a human trafficker didn’t mean she was in any real danger. But he didn’t trust people who would transport other people so brazenly across state lines in an airplane. That took balls.

  He reminded himself as he rushed toward the airport that the guy couldn’t possibly have a gun or even a knife. There’d be no way to get on a plane with a weapon of any kind.

  And then he reminded himself that Christa had not responded to his texts. Four of them. All pleading with her to keep him informed and let him know she was okay.

  Silence.

  As he pulled up to the airport, he glanced at his phone. Still nothing. Fuck.

  He changed the screen and dialed Hatch. Hopefully, at least one of his friends would have their phone on, even though it was far too early in the morning. It was still dark out. It would be another half-hour before the sun peeked over the horizon. “Comeoncomeoncomeon,” he muttered as the phone rang.

  Finally, Hatch’s voice came on, gravelly with sleep. “Kraft?”

  “Got a situation. You up?” Obviously, he wasn’t, but Mack knew he would be in less than a second.

  “Yep.” His voice was firmer. Solid. They’d trained for years to become alert in a heartbeat. “On my way out the door. Where’m I goin’?”

  “Airport. Got a bad feeling. Christa’s flight had a child trafficker on it. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I’m not.”

  “I’m there. Be there in ten.”

  Mack drew in a deep breath, praying Hatch was meeting him for no reason, knowing the man would come armed at the same time. If shit went down, Hatch would not be alone.