Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW MY NAME
I had never met her.
I knew that.
Every rational part of my brain knew that.
Yet hearing the woman scream my name while something invisible dragged her beneath the seats tore through me with the force of recognition.
"Garrett!"
Her fingers clawed at the carpet.
The baby was pressed against her chest.
The darkness had reached row nineteen.
The passengers sitting nearest her did nothing.
They stared forward with identical blank expressions while her shoes scraped across the floor.
I shoved past the flight attendant.
She grabbed my arm.
"Read the instruction."
"I did."
"Then obey it."
"It says to let her die."
"It says take the child."
"That's the same thing."
"No." Her eyes sharpened. "It isn't."
The woman's grip slipped.
"Please!"
I ran.
Something was wrong with the aisle.
Row twenty-one had been seven rows from me before.
Now it seemed thirty yards away.
The carpet stretched.
The overhead bins repeated themselves.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
I stopped.
The numbers were looping.
"Don't watch the rows!" the attendant shouted.
I looked down.
Focused on my shoes.
One step.
Two.
Three.
The baby's cries grew louder.
I kept walking without raising my eyes.
Then someone's hand wrapped around my ankle.
I nearly fell.
"Garrett."
My father's voice.
Right below me.
I looked.
A face stared out from the narrow gap beneath row eighteen.
My father's face.
Exactly as he had looked the morning he died.
Blue plaid shirt.
Gray beginning at his temples.
Kind eyes.
Except his body was compressed into a space no human body could fit.
"Help me up, son."
I stumbled backward.
The face smiled.
Too widely.
"Don't you miss me?"
I kicked free.
The thing hissed.
Not my father anymore.
I ran.
When I reached row twenty-one, the young woman had both arms wrapped around the base of a seat.
The yellow blanket was slipping from the baby.
I caught the child before she fell.
The mother's eyes met mine.
"Don't let them take her."
"Who?"
She looked toward the cockpit.
"The ones who made this flight."
Something jerked her body backward.
I grabbed her wrist.
The flight attendant screamed from the galley.
"Garrett, let go!"
The young mother's fingers locked around mine.
"Listen to me."
Her voice changed.
Suddenly calm.
"Her name is Lily."
Another pull.
Her shoulder struck the floor.
"Tell her I didn't leave her."
"What are you talking about?"
"Tell her I fought."
"You're coming with us."
"No."
"Yes."
"You don't understand."
She smiled through tears.
"I've already died here."
Then the darkness reached her.
Her hand vanished from mine.
Not slipped.
Vanished.
Her arm disappeared first.
Then her face.
Then the final desperate glint of her eyes.
For half a second, I could still hear her screaming from inside the darkness.
Then nothing.
I held the baby against my chest.
Lily.
She had stopped crying.
Every passenger turned toward me.
One by one.
Their heads moved in perfect synchronization.
Some were normal.
Some weren't.
The businessman in row sixteen had no mouth.
The old woman beside him had blood running from both ears.
A teenage boy's face seemed blurred, as though someone had erased his features with a thumb.
"Bring her here," the flight attendant said.
I backed toward the galley.
The passengers stood.
Every seatbelt released at the same time.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Dozens of people stepped into the aisle.
Arthur appeared from somewhere among them.
"Move!"
He shoved a man aside.
The man twisted toward him with a wet cracking sound.
Arthur didn't stop.
The two of us ran for the rear galley.
The attendant slammed a curtain closed behind us.
The instant she did, the passengers stopped.
Their silhouettes stood motionless on the other side.
I looked at Lily.
She couldn't have been more than six months old.
Warm.
Real.
Alive.
"What happened to her mother?"
The attendant said nothing.
"Who was she?"
Nothing.
I stepped closer.
"Why did she know my name?"
"Because you've met her."
"No, I haven't."
"Not yet."
Arthur closed his eyes.
"Don't do this, Mara."
Mara.
The attendant stared at him.
"You told him your name?"
"He needed someone to trust."
"Trust gets people killed here."
"So does ignorance."
I looked between them.
"You two know each other."
Arthur gave a humorless laugh.
"You could say that."
Mara reached for Lily.
I pulled away.
"No."
"We need to check her."
"Why?"
"Because if she's really alive, the flight will try to correct that mistake."
"What mistake?"
Mara's face hardened.
"Her survival."
The baby curled one tiny hand around my finger.
That simple movement nearly broke me.
Everything around us was impossible.
But Lily was warm.
Breathing.
Human.
Mara reached into the emergency kit and removed a pulse oximeter.
She clipped it gently around Lily's foot.
The machine flashed.
Heart rate: 147.
Oxygen: 98%.
Mara released a slow breath.
"She's alive."
"You sound surprised."
"I am."
Arthur leaned against the metal wall.
"How long?"
Mara checked her watch.
"Seventeen minutes until turbulence."
I unfolded my original rules.
Rule Five.
BETWEEN 9:51 AND 10:08 P.M., THE CAPTAIN MAY ANNOUNCE TURBULENCE.
If the captain says the words "remain calm," secure the infant and stay away from all windows.
If he says "remain seated," place the infant on the floor.
If he says nothing at all—
The page was torn there.
"What happens if he says nothing?"
Mara didn't answer.
Arthur did.
"The ceiling opens."
I stared at him.
"What?"
He looked upward.
"You'll see."
Mara pulled down a folding crew seat.
"Sit."
"I'm not putting the baby down."
"You don't have to."
"Then explain what's happening."
She studied me for a moment.
"You boarded Flight 237 at Denver International Airport."
"Yes."
"No, Garrett."
Her voice softened.
"You think you did."
I glanced at Arthur.
Mara continued.
"Flight 237 hasn't operated under that number in twenty-seven years."
My skin prickled.
"That's not possible."
"In 1999, North Atlantic Airways Flight 237 disappeared forty-three minutes after departure."
I looked around the modern aircraft.
"This isn't twenty-seven years old."
"The plane changes."
"Where did it disappear?"
"Over Colorado."
My mouth went dry.
"Colorado?"
"It never reached cruising altitude according to radar. The last transmission came from the captain reporting severe electrical failure. Then the aircraft vanished."
"Vanished?"
"No wreckage. No debris. No bodies."
Arthur stared at the curtain.
"At least not in our world."
I held Lily tighter.
"How many passengers?"
Mara looked at me.
"Seventy-three."
"How many are on board now?"
"Depends when you count."
I remembered the empty gate.
The silent passengers.
"Why am I here?"
Mara's expression changed.
"That is the question you should be asking."
"And the answer?"
She looked at Lily.
"Maybe her."
The intercom cracked.
Static exploded through the galley.
Lily startled.
Then a man's voice emerged.
Smooth.
Professional.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain speaking."
Arthur went rigid.
Mara whispered, "Listen carefully."
"We'll be experiencing some unexpected turbulence."
I waited.
The voice continued.
"For your safety..."
Mara's hand closed around my wrist.
"...please remain calm."
She exhaled.
"Windows. Stay away from them."
Something slammed into the aircraft.
The whole plane lurched sideways.
I struck the galley wall.
Lily screamed.
A second impact hit beneath us.
Metal groaned.
Passengers screamed behind the curtain.
Then something scratched along the outside of the fuselage.
Not debris.
Not ice.
Fingernails.
Dozens of them.
I looked toward the small galley window.
Mara grabbed my face before I could turn fully.
"Don't."
"What is outside?"
"Nothing you want seeing you."
The scratching stopped.
Silence.
Then three gentle knocks sounded against the window.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Arthur covered his ears.
Mara stepped backward.
Another three knocks.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Lily stopped crying.
Her head turned toward the window.
"Why is she looking at it?"
Mara's face went white.
"No."
Lily reached one hand toward the glass.
Outside, thirty thousand feet above the ground, something laughed.
And then a woman's voice came through the sealed window.
"Garrett."
May you like
The dead mother.
"Please give me my baby back."
