Intercom
Matthew Cooper
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
As cruel as it was to admit, Matthew breathed a silent sigh of relief when he realised that the hijacker had not aimed the muzzle of his gun at him. In a moment of complete cowardice, every instinct that he had to protect the general public had gone out of the window. In fairness, Matthew didn’t think that was necessarily a selfish or nasty way to think — the body had a natural fight-or-flight response to extreme danger and a plane being controlled by a group of complete lunatics with guns and an easily-guessable endgame definitely qualified as extreme danger to Matthew.
The woman he had pointed the gun at, however, looked even more terrified than Matthew felt. Her bottom lip was trembling, and her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. It didn’t stop them from shaking almost uncontrollably. The hijacker laughed, walking up the aisle with long, confident strides.
“Answer me, bitch. What can we call you?”
“Luke,” the other hijacker growled in warning. “Cool it.”
Luke whirled around on the ball of his foot, turning to face his fellow hijacker with a look of thunder written across his face. The gun dropped to his side, hanging from his fingers loosely by the trigger.
“I don’t need to do anything you say, Trystan.” Luke spat out his name as if it were a particularly nasty swear word, “Besides, I can point my gun at anybody I fucking want. Don’t tell me to cool it.”
Trystan sucked in a long, languid breath before walking up the plane to face Luke. His face was virtually unreadable, features arranged into a calm mask that he had no doubt practised in the weeks coming up to their master plan. It was obvious from his face that he had expected this from Luke. The latter looked as if he were unravelling completely, now waving his gun in the air as Trystan looked on, evidently bored by the charged rant now spewing from Luke’s mouth.
“All you want is to be a fucking extremist martyr. You don’t care about blowing anything up to throw your middle finger up at the world. You just want to put more emphasis on saving the fucking whales or whatever it is that you want. That’s not what this was ever about, and you know that fine well. Killing people might not be high on your agenda, but I intend to show the government exactly what happens when they fuck with the poor and needy. Don’t get in my way.”
“Saving the whales, nice,” Trystan replied dryly. “You’re creating a scene and disrupting this flight for our poor passengers. I suggest you stop it before Cole finds himself leaving the controls to deal with you.”
Matthew realised with a start that they must be getting towards the tail of their journey. All sense of secrecy and calm had gone from the operation, and in a few short minutes, they had revealed the names of their comrades. Matthew felt sweat begin to trickle down the back of his collar as the two continued to argue, Trystan with the deadpan look of completely boredom written across his face and Luke screaming, cheeks turning red as he continued on his accusations. Something wasn’t right, and that scared Matthew more than anything that had happened thus far into the trip. Trystan was far too calm in the face of a man carrying a gun. Any normal human being with no ulterior motives would have fought back by now, snapped and shouted straight back without hesitation. Trystan hadn’t done anything of the kind, and didn’t appear to be angering.
“Well?” Luke said, breathing a little heavier than he had been before. “What’ve you got to say about that, Mr Environment?”
Trystan chuckled, showing the first sign of genuine emotion that he had shown since the plane had taken off. Luke watched him cautiously, brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what his comrade was doing. After he finished laughing, he shook his head and smirked.
“This,” he replied, lifting his own gun and placing a bullet firmly between Luke’s eyes.
As cruel as it was to admit, Matthew breathed a silent sigh of relief when he realised that the hijacker had not aimed the muzzle of his gun at him. In a moment of complete cowardice, every instinct that he had to protect the general public had gone out of the window. In fairness, Matthew didn’t think that was necessarily a selfish or nasty way to think — the body had a natural fight-or-flight response to extreme danger and a plane being controlled by a group of complete lunatics with guns and an easily-guessable endgame definitely qualified as extreme danger to Matthew.
The woman he had pointed the gun at, however, looked even more terrified than Matthew felt. Her bottom lip was trembling, and her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. It didn’t stop them from shaking almost uncontrollably. The hijacker laughed, walking up the aisle with long, confident strides.
“Answer me, bitch. What can we call you?”
“Luke,” the other hijacker growled in warning. “Cool it.”
Luke whirled around on the ball of his foot, turning to face his fellow hijacker with a look of thunder written across his face. The gun dropped to his side, hanging from his fingers loosely by the trigger.
“I don’t need to do anything you say, Trystan.” Luke spat out his name as if it were a particularly nasty swear word, “Besides, I can point my gun at anybody I fucking want. Don’t tell me to cool it.”
Trystan sucked in a long, languid breath before walking up the plane to face Luke. His face was virtually unreadable, features arranged into a calm mask that he had no doubt practised in the weeks coming up to their master plan. It was obvious from his face that he had expected this from Luke. The latter looked as if he were unravelling completely, now waving his gun in the air as Trystan looked on, evidently bored by the charged rant now spewing from Luke’s mouth.
“All you want is to be a fucking extremist martyr. You don’t care about blowing anything up to throw your middle finger up at the world. You just want to put more emphasis on saving the fucking whales or whatever it is that you want. That’s not what this was ever about, and you know that fine well. Killing people might not be high on your agenda, but I intend to show the government exactly what happens when they fuck with the poor and needy. Don’t get in my way.”
“Saving the whales, nice,” Trystan replied dryly. “You’re creating a scene and disrupting this flight for our poor passengers. I suggest you stop it before Cole finds himself leaving the controls to deal with you.”
Matthew realised with a start that they must be getting towards the tail of their journey. All sense of secrecy and calm had gone from the operation, and in a few short minutes, they had revealed the names of their comrades. Matthew felt sweat begin to trickle down the back of his collar as the two continued to argue, Trystan with the deadpan look of completely boredom written across his face and Luke screaming, cheeks turning red as he continued on his accusations. Something wasn’t right, and that scared Matthew more than anything that had happened thus far into the trip. Trystan was far too calm in the face of a man carrying a gun. Any normal human being with no ulterior motives would have fought back by now, snapped and shouted straight back without hesitation. Trystan hadn’t done anything of the kind, and didn’t appear to be angering.
“Well?” Luke said, breathing a little heavier than he had been before. “What’ve you got to say about that, Mr Environment?”
Trystan chuckled, showing the first sign of genuine emotion that he had shown since the plane had taken off. Luke watched him cautiously, brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what his comrade was doing. After he finished laughing, he shook his head and smirked.
“This,” he replied, lifting his own gun and placing a bullet firmly between Luke’s eyes.