Intercom

The men seemed to be materialising out of the floor of the plane, or it seemed that way to Matthew. He hadn’t expected it would only be one or two men, but their numbers seemed to grow and grow. After the first guy had chosen his ‘favourites’, another two of them had appeared from the cockpit. Matthew had been formulating a plan where he could maybe overpower the first, but there was absolutely no way that he’d risk going up against three of the fuckers.

The first one, the man that had started it all, he seemed as if he were completely in control of the operation. He was calm, collected and confident in his words. Worst of all, it was written all over his face that he was actually enjoying watching the passengers of the flight panic. Matthew had only met a few people like him in his lifetime on the police force, and each and every one of them scared the shit out of him. There was no telling how far they’d go in order to complete their mission.

“I get to choose?” one of the others said mockingly, placing a hand on his chest. “Mate, you shouldn’t have. I’m flattered.”

If Matthew had been nervous before they had started pulling people from their seats, he was now absolutely terrified. He had no idea what they wanted people for, but he knew for a fact that he’d rather stay on the plane, regardless of where the flight ended up grounding. In the grand scheme of things, being killed alongside a group of other people in a plane crash would be miles better than being selected for whatever manic idea the hijackers had for using the two kids sitting in the front row of seats.

“We’ve got two younger kids here, so maybe we should choose some older people to balance it all out.”

Looking around, Matthew’s heart sank. The vast majority of the flight seemed to be composed of younger people, people in their teens or early twenties. The older portion of the flight seemed to be split heavily in two — parents of families and pensioners in their sixties and seventies. There were a small amount like Matthew, who were late thirties to early forties, but they were few-and-far-between. It was anybody’s guess for what way this could go.

The hijacker seemed to be stalling, glancing from person to person as he pursed his lips thoughtfully. No one wanted to make eye contact with him and that was evident by the amount of bowed heads, especially in the front few rows. They were right in the firing zone — they were easier to identify and probably easier to control, with the lack of a walk to the front. There was no chance that they would try any funny business when they were the perfect targets for someone who was a good shot with a handgun.

“I think we should split up a family, don’t you?” he mused after a few moments, glancing towards his partner, who chuckled and nodded. Pursing his lips again, the hijacker ran his finger along the rows, coming to a stop slowly.

“You,” he said, pointing to a man in his mid-forties in relatively close distance to the front of the plane. “You’re perfect.”

There was a startled sob from the woman sitting beside him, who grabbed his arm and shook her head. Matthew strained his neck enough to see the teary faces of two teenagers and one little boy, who was glancing at the man in question, who had now stood up. Matthew could only assume that the woman sitting beside him was his wife, who was still clutching at his hand with a desperate look on her face.

“And what if I don’t want to help you?” he asked. It was obvious he was trying to put on a brave face for his family, but the shakiness in his voice gave him away. He was just as scared as the rest.

The hijacker snorted, lifting his right arm up lazily. The gun swung around and pointed straight at him. The cabin seemed to fall into complete silence as he addressed the man.

“Sir, we’ve already killed at least one person. We have every intention of killing a whole lot more of you. Don’t make a fuss, because I will put a bullet between your eyes and I’m pretty sure that your darling family don’t wanna see Daddy Dearest die. What’s your name, hero?”

The man seemed to deliberate whether to answer for a moment or two, before nodding and shaking his arm lightly to loosen his wife’s grip.

“Luka,” he muttered after a few seconds of silence, side-stepping his way out of the row. The air seemed to have an air of electricity to it; everyone was waiting to see what the fate of this man was.

“Well, Luka.” The hijacker seemed to spit his name out as if it were a bad word. “Come and join the crew. I’m sure they’ll be glad to have someone as brave as you in their midst.”

The sarcasm in the sentence was unmissable. The hijackers seemed almost too confident that no one would bother challenging them again. It was too risky, considering there were three of them in the cabin and more in the cockpit. Besides, the fight or flight instinct was probably kicking in throughout the passenger manifest, and many people would by trying to figure out how to save their own skin, not the people surrounding them. The best way to survive was to stay quiet and not stick up for a complete stranger. It could mean that someone else could die, but it wasn’t you and that was the most important thing, right?

It almost made Matthew thankful that he was travelling on his own. He didn't have any family members to consider when deciding whether to save himself or others. Just himself, and however many people were stuck on the god-forsaken aircraft.

“And another one! How about a proper golden oldie, eh?” the hijacker chuckled. He seemed much more at ease now than he had been initially. The thoughtful look was gone, replaced by a playful arrangement of features. It didn’t seem to take him long to decide, either. Pointing towards an old lady a few seats across from Matthew, he laughed manically.

“You’re it, my dear! Come to the front and join your crew-mates!”

He knew it was wrong to revel on the misfortune of others, but Matthew couldn’t help but breathe a silent sigh of relief that he hadn’t been chosen.