Intercom
Matthew Cooper
They had landed.
In all honesty, Matthew has completely lost his nerve. He had heard of hijackings, sure, and he had heard about the people who used them to complete whatever mission they felt they had to fulfil. However, in his entire lifetime, he hadn’t heard of the hijackers risking their plan by landing the plane and taking passengers off. It was completely ludicrous, and it made Matthew feel more nervous than he had ever felt. If they had the nerve to land the plane, then he didn’t even want to think about the fate of the passengers left on the plane.
A crackling over the intercom startled Matthew, his mind automatically connecting the noise to that of a bomb before the rational side of his brain took over. Looking around, he noticed that he had not been the only one to react in such an irrational way. Several of the passengers were glancing around themselves, fear evident in their eyes. No one knew what was going to happen, and Matthew doubted that anybody wanted to know what was going to happen. He certainly knew that all he wanted was to either die right there and then, or to wake up to this entire ordeal being a horrible dream.
“Attention, passengers,” a garbled voice announced, the tinny and mechanic sound immersing Matthew in fear. “Our stopover is almost over. Please prepare for takeoff. I doubt you’ll be landing again.”
Matthew’s blood ran cold. His chance to do anything to save himself would have been at that exact moment, but he couldn’t move. Once they were up in the air, it was almost guaranteed that he’d be done for. If they had no intention of landing the plane themselves, then they would make sure that they were going down in what they considered to be a blaze of glory. There was no chance that they’d let any of the passengers survive. It was the only motive that made sense to him in that moment — complete and utter annihilation of a small group of human beings who had done little to the world.
Maybe they were motivated by religion. It seemed like the most probable cause.
Matthew’s train of thought was startled by the jerk of the plane. They were moving again, taxiing forward at a slow pace. The process was smoother than Matthew had expected. For some reason unknown to himself, he had believed that they must have landed on a god-forsaken piece of land that would leave the suspension destroyed. Instead, Matthew now believed that they had landed somewhere with a runway, or at least with a decent layer of tarmac.
One of the hijackers had emerged from the cockpit, surveying the passengers once again. He slowly lifted the gun that had once been held loosely by his side, rotating the barrel with his own gaze. He had a wild look in his eye, a glint that Matthew had only seen before in the eyes of the murderous bastards that he had once put behind bars. This was a man with nothing left to lose, a man with a plan that didn’t involve his feet ever reaching solid ground again.
“Eeeny, meeny, miney,” he continued to swing the gun around. A few spluttered sobs still echoed around the fuselage, but most were now resigned to their fate. It seemed silly to admit, but Matthew was as well. He felt no need to waste his final hours sobbing and pleading with the men that would take his life in one way or the other. All he could muster in terms of emotion was a blank face, an emotionless state that would exist until the tendrils of death began to wrap themselves around his throat. “Who should I choose?”
The barrel swung towards the back of the plane, the black depths of death staring in the face of every passenger.
“Mo.”
In all honesty, Matthew has completely lost his nerve. He had heard of hijackings, sure, and he had heard about the people who used them to complete whatever mission they felt they had to fulfil. However, in his entire lifetime, he hadn’t heard of the hijackers risking their plan by landing the plane and taking passengers off. It was completely ludicrous, and it made Matthew feel more nervous than he had ever felt. If they had the nerve to land the plane, then he didn’t even want to think about the fate of the passengers left on the plane.
A crackling over the intercom startled Matthew, his mind automatically connecting the noise to that of a bomb before the rational side of his brain took over. Looking around, he noticed that he had not been the only one to react in such an irrational way. Several of the passengers were glancing around themselves, fear evident in their eyes. No one knew what was going to happen, and Matthew doubted that anybody wanted to know what was going to happen. He certainly knew that all he wanted was to either die right there and then, or to wake up to this entire ordeal being a horrible dream.
“Attention, passengers,” a garbled voice announced, the tinny and mechanic sound immersing Matthew in fear. “Our stopover is almost over. Please prepare for takeoff. I doubt you’ll be landing again.”
Matthew’s blood ran cold. His chance to do anything to save himself would have been at that exact moment, but he couldn’t move. Once they were up in the air, it was almost guaranteed that he’d be done for. If they had no intention of landing the plane themselves, then they would make sure that they were going down in what they considered to be a blaze of glory. There was no chance that they’d let any of the passengers survive. It was the only motive that made sense to him in that moment — complete and utter annihilation of a small group of human beings who had done little to the world.
Maybe they were motivated by religion. It seemed like the most probable cause.
Matthew’s train of thought was startled by the jerk of the plane. They were moving again, taxiing forward at a slow pace. The process was smoother than Matthew had expected. For some reason unknown to himself, he had believed that they must have landed on a god-forsaken piece of land that would leave the suspension destroyed. Instead, Matthew now believed that they had landed somewhere with a runway, or at least with a decent layer of tarmac.
One of the hijackers had emerged from the cockpit, surveying the passengers once again. He slowly lifted the gun that had once been held loosely by his side, rotating the barrel with his own gaze. He had a wild look in his eye, a glint that Matthew had only seen before in the eyes of the murderous bastards that he had once put behind bars. This was a man with nothing left to lose, a man with a plan that didn’t involve his feet ever reaching solid ground again.
“Eeeny, meeny, miney,” he continued to swing the gun around. A few spluttered sobs still echoed around the fuselage, but most were now resigned to their fate. It seemed silly to admit, but Matthew was as well. He felt no need to waste his final hours sobbing and pleading with the men that would take his life in one way or the other. All he could muster in terms of emotion was a blank face, an emotionless state that would exist until the tendrils of death began to wrap themselves around his throat. “Who should I choose?”
The barrel swung towards the back of the plane, the black depths of death staring in the face of every passenger.
“Mo.”