Flight 219
“The people of Detroit have failed our children,” Bradley was saying. He still hadn’t put his gun away, and Meredith felt her body inching as far away from his as possible whenever he passed her in his relentless pacing up and down the aisle. “If the superintendent and his board of crooks had actually done their jobs instead of selling out our kids to the lowest bidder, I wouldn’t be forced to do any of this.”
Meredith had already decided that if the gun pointed in her direction, she’d use her body to shield little West and his mother. Far better to lose her own life than sit by and watch a helpless child die. The resolve gave her a new burst of courage, a sense of control, however imaginary.
“Until the superintendent of the Detroit school systems or the governor of Michigan himself calls me on my personal cell,” Bradley raged on, “one hostage will continue to die every five minutes. You have my word, and I promise you I always keep my word.”
The threat sent a chill racing up Meredith’s spine, but she’d already determined not to give way to fear. She had to be strong. Had to give West and his mother a sense of courage. In this situation it was the least she could do. Not much, but it was something.
Bradley pulled out his phone, looked at one of the cameras pointing straight at him and announced, “Thirty more seconds.”