by G. Massy
happy.”
“Maybe you ain’t such a bad dude after all.”
“Is everyone ready for another drink?” Krenshaw asked. “We’re getting close to our destination, and we have to celebrate the New Year before we touch down.”
Krenshaw looked at the timer and nodded his head as the minutes counted down, knowing that it would soon be a New Year.
“Hey Captain, What’s up?”
“Jeffery, Tricia, How are you?”
“Doin’ great sir,” Jeffery said. “We’re getting married right after this trip.”
“It’s about time. You two have been talking about a wedding for the past ten years”
“Ten years? Come on captain,” Tricia said. “We’ve only been talking about marriage for a year. Jeffery proposed right after he got his big promotion.”
“That’s right, sir,” Jeffery said. “That’s when we started flying with you.”
Krenshaw raised a brow.” What kind of promotion has you flying to LA every week?”
“We know it’s inconvenient,” Jeffery said, “but the money is good, and my boss promised that he is going to keep me in the NY office after we get married. We’ll only have to fly to LA twice a year, for conferences.”
I hope you’re right,” Krenshaw said, “but typically, bosses tend to break promises, and since we’re on the subject, let me remind you that marriage is built on promises and commitments. Honesty is the key factor that holds a husband and wife together. Once you tie that knot, you belong to each other, and you both will have made the biggest promise two people could ever make. Think about it… till death do you part.”
“That’s a creepy thing to say up here,” said Tricia, “but thanks for the heads up.”
“It’s been my pleasure. Now relax and have another drink, we’re almost there.”
The music continued and the party went on. Everyone on the plane was finally unwound, exactly like Krenshaw wanted them to be. Even Monroe and Beatrice gave in and grabbed a Vodka and Cranberry. It was quite a rarity to see an aircraft full of complete strangers on a six hour flight, communicating as if they had been best friends for a lifetime. Krenshaw stood at the front of the plane proudly watching over the social masterpiece he had created.
Slowly he walked to the restroom, turning to look at them one more time before stepping over the threshold. Once inside, he pulled the door shut and slid the latch to the right, separating himself from everyone. At the moment the door locked, something happened to the Captain. There was an unbearable tightness in his chest, and the room seemed to be closing in on him. He tried to call out for help, but his screams were silenced by the music and laughter on the other side of the bolted door The rumbling of the engines pounded in his ears, and his unsteadiness forced him to hold onto the walls of the dimly lit cubical. He felt nauseous from the putrid smell of bile surrounding him, and his thoughts became irrational and delusive. Krenshaw wanted desperately to escape from this prison, but something stopped him from reaching for the silver latch on the door Every ounce of energy was consumed by anxiety. He gazed into the mirror over the sink but could not recognize the contorted image looking back at him. His heavy exhalations formed shapeless circles of steam on the glass which disappeared and reappeared with each breath.
“Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar” he growled, splashing water on his face trying to undo the horrific turmoil in his brain. The tell-tale thumping of his heart had become louder than the resonant music that pounded in his head. Krenshaw cocked his arm back and with full force hit the mirror with a closed fist, smashing it into pieces tearing through the thin tightened skin on his knuckles. A burning sensation traveled up his arm to his spine as drops of blood flowed down his fingers and into the sink. As he watched the blood ooze over the shattered crystals and disappear into the drain, he felt a peculiar blanket of tranquility come over his entire being. He took a few more deep breaths, unlocked the door and walked out as if nothing had happened. The conversation in the cabin was plentiful but not understandable, like a clashing of hundreds of jumbled words coming out of the mouths of faceless strangers. The music was now a discordant clatter that added to his apprehension.
Krenshaw started back toward the cockpit, but when he reached the front of the aisle, he stopped and stood there utterly motionless for a few seconds. He turned off the music then slowly pivoted, toe and heel, to face everyone.
“Ladies and Gentleman,” he said, “I have an important announcement to make.” He closed his eyes, took off his cap and held it to his chest, covering his injured hand. “This is going to be the final flight of my career, and I want it to be a monumental night for all of us. Tonight, is a night that will be remembered by many, for years to come.”
When he opened his eyes they were filled with tears and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. There was sadness on his face as if he had just lost something very dear to his heart.
There was a grim buzz all through the plane. Some of the passengers reacted disappointedly and some went on like they didn’t really care, but those that knew Krenshaw, were talking about the announcement. Even the stiff necks in first class, in some way, became a part of what was going on in the world of Captain Krenshaw MacDermitt. The volume of the chatter reached a point where it was difficult to think and the tension was building rapidly. His face began to transform from the look of sadness, to a look of malevolence. Standing at attention with clenched fists, Krenshaw’s head turned somewhat mechanically from side to side, stopping for a split second to make eye contact with each passenger that was looking in his direction.
“Everyone, shut the fuck up and let me finish!”
The crowd hushed.
“What’s up witchu, man?”
“I’ll tell you what’s up with me, Steven. I’m tired of all of this. For thirteen years I held everything inside and tolerated every bastard that walked into this airplane, and now it’s finally over.”
He marched with an abnormal goose-step back to 13-B, looked at his watch, and then bent down placing his face merely inches from Steven’s. With their eyes hypnotically locked, Krenshaw let out an evil laugh that seemed to echo endlessly off the walls of the huge silver cylinder. He reached into Steven’s breast pocket with his bloody hand, and pulled something out, leaving a crimson stain on the boy’s white shirt collar. It was the Jack of Spades.
“Do you remember this?” Krenshaw asked, “Are you aware of the fact that this card has many meanings? Some say it symbolizes insecurity, some say it represents scandal and disgrace. But in this case, the Jack of Spades represents deception. You were right, Steven. What I do up here has always been an act, and you are all part of the final scene.”
“You’re scarin me, man,” Steven said. “Knock it the fuck off.”
“Shut up and look at that clock.” He pointed at the red flashing digital timer in front of them. “In less than eight minutes, an explosive device that I placed under the left wing will detonate and this beautiful seventy-five ton piece of metal will spiral vertically, out of control, for 35,000 feet with all of you tucked neatly inside.”
A gruesome sound of fear and grief spread across the entire cabin, but surprisingly nobody rose up against Krenshaw.
“I knew there was sumptin fucked up bout you,” Steven said.
“He’s lying to us,” Jeffery said. “The Krenshaw that I have known for the past year, could never do anything like this. Tell us that you’re making it all up, captain. Please, tell us the truth.”
“Mac, you’re not that kind of man,” Monroe said as he walked to the bathroom. “When I get done taking a piss, I want to come out and hear you tell us all that it’s only a sick, tasteless joke.”
Krenshaw, still in a semi-robotic state, ignored them and again pointed at the timer on the front wall.
“If the fuselage doesn’t disintegrate on the way down, you will all have the pleasure of experiencing an agonizing three minute drop before you hit the ground. Some of you may die of heart failure before impact,
but most of you have had an adequate amount of strong drink to mildly sedate you enough to keep that from happening. What I want is for each and every one of you to appreciate this unique ride, and I do reassure you there will be no physical pain whatsoever when you crash. I want you all to keep your seatbelts on and stay calm. Have another drink if you want. It’s on me. If you have service, go ahead and call your loved ones, but please, speak quietly out of respect for the others that may want to sit in silence and pray.”
“What are you saying, you sick fuck?” the fat man screamed.
“What do you mean, what am I saying, you fat slob? Why is it so hard to understand? Are you that fucking stupid? We are all going to die and there is absolutely nothing anyone inside or outside this plane can do about it.”
Suddenly, there was a strange calm in the aircraft. Nobody said another word as they watched the digits on the timer. Monroe walked out of the bathroom and stopped in the aisle meeting Krenshaw face to face.
“Go ahead Mac. Tell them,” Monroe said. “Tell them the truth. If you don’t, I will. I did a little research into
