Intercom
Matthew Cooper
The kid was gutsy, Matthew had to give him that. Stupid, but gutsy.
He had anticipated the sickening crunching of bones before the gunman’s weapon had collided with the youngster’s nose. The lunge had been a last-ditch effort, by the looks of it, and his attempt to grab the gun had been easily side-stepped by the man holding them all hostage. There were a few scattered yelps and shrieks from the females on the plane, all moving rapidly towards the front of the cabin. Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t a person on the plane now that would dare to try anything. The blood pouring from the kid’s nose was the perfect warning.
Truthfully, Matthew almost wished he had thought of doing something like that. He was, after all, trained in hostage situations as part of his job. Years of sitting behind a desk, sipping coffee and guzzling down anything with excessive amounts of sugar in it, however, had rendered him into a state where he wasn’t going to be of much use to anyone. He could barely chase after a suspect without having to take a long rest afterwards. So instead of doing something, like his gut had told him from the second he had gotten on the plane, he joined the gaggle of men making their way slowly to the back of the cabin.
“What the hell’s going on through here?”
Any moment of hope that Matthew had held for the bodiless voice was dashed the second he put a face to it. He had almost hoped that Brendan had managed to get some help from his perch on the toilet, but he had returned with a gun and a face twisted into a sinister grin that told Matthew all he needed to know.
“Nothing personal,” he muttered as he walked past, evidently noticing that Matthew had been staring, before raising his voice so that everyone could hear. “Sit!”
There was a scattered race to get to spare seats before another bullet found its target. Matthew found himself crushed between a myriad of men of all ages. He could see the boy with the bloody nose, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. Letting his eyes wander, Matthew quickly counted the spare seats once everyone was sitting. Six empty seats, which meant six hijackers. He could already feel a cold sweat forming on the back of his neck. One man with a gun was difficult, two was borderline impossible. Six meant that they were dead. There was absolutely no way that they were getting out of this alive.
“No one moves from their seats,” Brendan called loudly, catching the attention of everyone in the cockpit, “and if anyone tries any more funny business, you can expect a bullet between the eyes. My colleague here was kind enough to keep you idiots alive after that move.”
“As you’ve probably now guessed,” the other said, continuing straight on, “you’re in deep trouble. We’re using this plane to carry out some very important tasks, and we’re going to need the help of some of you to do so. I wouldn’t try anything more, because we’re not just two. One wrong move and you’re dead before you can blink.”
The gun was waved around again, and Matthew found himself naively wondering whether the man had the safety on. He almost laughed at himself, before focusing more on the speech that the two were reciting.
“We’re going to land shortly and at that point, we’re going to chose a few lucky people to get the honour of being integral to our plan. Once that happens, we’re going to create one of the biggest firework displays that America has ever seen. And you’ve all been blessed with being part of it!”
Brendan’s laugh was cold and calculated, and he seemed to lock eyes with every single passenger before turning his back, shrugging at his colleague.
“Choose your favourites,” he chuckled dismissively, heading towards the cockpit.
He had anticipated the sickening crunching of bones before the gunman’s weapon had collided with the youngster’s nose. The lunge had been a last-ditch effort, by the looks of it, and his attempt to grab the gun had been easily side-stepped by the man holding them all hostage. There were a few scattered yelps and shrieks from the females on the plane, all moving rapidly towards the front of the cabin. Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t a person on the plane now that would dare to try anything. The blood pouring from the kid’s nose was the perfect warning.
Truthfully, Matthew almost wished he had thought of doing something like that. He was, after all, trained in hostage situations as part of his job. Years of sitting behind a desk, sipping coffee and guzzling down anything with excessive amounts of sugar in it, however, had rendered him into a state where he wasn’t going to be of much use to anyone. He could barely chase after a suspect without having to take a long rest afterwards. So instead of doing something, like his gut had told him from the second he had gotten on the plane, he joined the gaggle of men making their way slowly to the back of the cabin.
“What the hell’s going on through here?”
Any moment of hope that Matthew had held for the bodiless voice was dashed the second he put a face to it. He had almost hoped that Brendan had managed to get some help from his perch on the toilet, but he had returned with a gun and a face twisted into a sinister grin that told Matthew all he needed to know.
“Nothing personal,” he muttered as he walked past, evidently noticing that Matthew had been staring, before raising his voice so that everyone could hear. “Sit!”
There was a scattered race to get to spare seats before another bullet found its target. Matthew found himself crushed between a myriad of men of all ages. He could see the boy with the bloody nose, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. Letting his eyes wander, Matthew quickly counted the spare seats once everyone was sitting. Six empty seats, which meant six hijackers. He could already feel a cold sweat forming on the back of his neck. One man with a gun was difficult, two was borderline impossible. Six meant that they were dead. There was absolutely no way that they were getting out of this alive.
“No one moves from their seats,” Brendan called loudly, catching the attention of everyone in the cockpit, “and if anyone tries any more funny business, you can expect a bullet between the eyes. My colleague here was kind enough to keep you idiots alive after that move.”
“As you’ve probably now guessed,” the other said, continuing straight on, “you’re in deep trouble. We’re using this plane to carry out some very important tasks, and we’re going to need the help of some of you to do so. I wouldn’t try anything more, because we’re not just two. One wrong move and you’re dead before you can blink.”
The gun was waved around again, and Matthew found himself naively wondering whether the man had the safety on. He almost laughed at himself, before focusing more on the speech that the two were reciting.
“We’re going to land shortly and at that point, we’re going to chose a few lucky people to get the honour of being integral to our plan. Once that happens, we’re going to create one of the biggest firework displays that America has ever seen. And you’ve all been blessed with being part of it!”
Brendan’s laugh was cold and calculated, and he seemed to lock eyes with every single passenger before turning his back, shrugging at his colleague.
“Choose your favourites,” he chuckled dismissively, heading towards the cockpit.