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CALLIE JOLTED AS SOMETHING was smashed at the front of the cabin. A woman wailed, and she heard one of the hijackers yelling at her to be quiet. Callie wanted to stand up and get the hell of this damn plane—impossible when they were flying over open water with God knew where as their final destination. It felt like weeks ago that she’d flown out of LA, not a mere twenty-four hours. It was absolutely insane how the entire course of her life had changed in a mere instant.
She felt eyes on her and glanced back, locking gazes with her new friend Olivia. She looked as terrified as Callie felt. Was this it? The end? Were they really going to die on an airplane today?
The plane banked suddenly to the left, and Callie’s gaze landed on the navigation map on the screen in front of her. The hijackers had no doubt forgotten to turn it off when they’d taken over the cockpit. The plane made a wide arc, turning until they were no longer flying toward Seoul. Were they returning to Manila? What was their end game?
She trembled in her seat, feeling slightly nauseous. Callie reached down to the tote bag she’d stashed beneath the seat in front of her and pulled out her denim jacket. She was so damn cold all of a sudden. She eased it on, glancing to the front every now and then to make sure the terrorists hadn’t seen her move.
Callie glanced at the woman seated next to her. “Are we going back?” she whispered.
The woman bit her lip and gave a slight shake of her head, too scared to even answer.
Callie sat stiffly, wrapping her arms around herself. The plane was eerily silent for a moment, and then a baby began to wail. Callie closed her eyes for a moment, trying to take deep breaths. She was fine. She’d be fine. Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an hour. Not much was happening, which made it all the more unnerving. Callie almost couldn’t believe her eyes when they finally approached the airport back in Manila. Talk about the flight from hell to absolutely nowhere. Frantic whisperings were going on around her as the plane began to make its descent.
“Are they going to crash the plane?”
“Do you think they’ll let us off?”
“What are their demands?”
“Quiet!” one of the hijackers yelled, and he began moving up and down the aisle, watching the passengers. Callie stiffened, looking straight ahead. She held her breath as the plane eventually touched down and didn’t dare move as one of the hijackers continued to yell there was a bomb on board the plane. They taxied down the runway, staying far from the other airplanes on the ground. Hours later, they were still sitting on the tarmac, on a runway far from the airport terminal. Callie had lost track of how long they’d been on the damn plane. They had no food. No water. There were passengers who’d been sick and vomited everywhere, children who’d soiled themselves. The smell of sweat and human waste filled the cabin. The entire plane was a living nightmare.
“Attention passengers, this is your new captain,” one of the hijackers said in accented English over the loudspeaker. “Everyone shut your windows,” the hijacker announced. “Pull the shades closed. Now!”
Frowning, she did as they asked, sliding the little plastic shade shut. Callie had seen emergency vehicles outside, their lights flashing. They were all far away from the airplane, closer to the terminal. Would anyone come to their rescue? Were they just waiting for the passengers to be killed? For the entire plane to explode?
Callie bit her lip, looking around. She couldn’t stand sitting here anymore. Her entire body was tense, aching to move. Her shoulders hurt from sitting so stiffly, and her stomach roiled. It was brutal being confined to their seats, held hostage to the whims of the crazed hijackers. Nothing had happened in hours, and she was growing as restless as everyone else.
“Oh my God, she fainted!” a woman suddenly shouted.
Callie glanced back as one of the hijackers stormed by. A woman was slumped over in her seat, extremely pale. “Tell her to wake up!” the hijacker yelled.
“She’s not sleeping. She fainted,” a man explained. The hijacker smacked him across the face, causing the others around them to gasp.
Callie felt her pulse pounding, noticing the woman was now turning nearly blue from lack of oxygen. “Please, just let her off the plane. She needs medical attention,” Callie said.
The man’s angry gaze swiveled to her, and he stormed in her direction. “You. You’re coming with me.”
“What? No,” Callie said, shrinking back. She couldn’t believe she’d just spoken, drawing attention to herself, but the woman needed help. She would die on the plane without anyone providing much-needed medical attention.
The hijacker held up the knife he was wielding. “Get the hell up and come with me to the cockpit. I’ll show you what to do with that mouth of yours.” She gasped, tears smarting her eyes, and he reached over and yanked her up from her seat. The passengers around her did nothing, and Callie was shaking as the man dragged her to the front, his grip bruising.
A fellow passenger finally stood up, telling the hijacker to leave her alone. Callie stared at him in shock, her heart pounding, when a hijacker from the front of the plane suddenly rushed forward. Shouts filled the air, and a single gunshot rang out as the man who’d intervened was shot dead in front of her.
Callie screamed along with the passengers at her side. The terrorist holding her yanked her over the dead body, yelling in Arabic, before shoving her into the cockpit. The door closed behind them, and she looked around frantically, noticing the pilot and co-pilot had both been restrained, gags covering their mouth. The other terrorist in the cockpit eyed her eagerly, and her kidnapper was already unzipping his pants. Callie sobbed as he tried to shove her to her knees, and as he wrenched her arm again, she screamed, feeling the bone break from the force of the movement. The other hijacker in the cockpit began yelling at him in Arabic.
“There is no time! He’s calling us. We must finish the mission! Leave her!”
She blinked back her tears, choking on her sobs, as the man shoved his dick back into his pants. He’d been about to force himself on her. Rape her. Callie whimpered, sinking to the ground, as her arm hung awkwardly at her side. She clutched it gingerly, the pain white hot and sharp. Beads of sweat broke out across her forehead, and she tried to breathe through the pain, to not pass out in front of these armed men.
One of the hijackers took a video call on his phone, holding it up for the other to watch. Callie could see the silhouette of a large man on the small screen, and then he was turning into the light. She gasped at the large burn mark on one side of his face. It looked like he’d been in a fire, the red mark angry and scarred. Shocking.
“Who is that?” he asked in anger, his dark eyes narrowing.
“No one. One of the hostages,” the hijacker said, turning the camera away from Callie.
“Fucking idiots. Why is she there? We’ve got an entire plane full of passengers. Leave the bitch alone.”
“She’s got a mouth on her,” one hijacker said. “I’m going to strip her bare and show her what to do with that mouth and body.”
“No,” Callie whimpered, cowering back.
“Enough! The airport is surrounded. You never should have flown back to Manila. I was ready for the next phase, and now all eyes are on the airport. I can’t get anywhere near here!” the man roared. “And now she can ID me. She saw me on your damn phone!”
“She’ll never get off this airplane,” one of the hijackers seethed.
The phone in the cockpit rang just then, and the hijacker let out a string of curses in Arabic. The man who’d dragged her to the cockpit answered the phone, yelling at what seemed to be the hostage negotiators. Callie let out a breath. Of course, the authorities would have been negotiating with the terrorists. The plane had been on the runway for hours. Officials would have made contact, trying to learn their demands. Everyone on board the airplane was tired, dirty, and hungry. Maybe the terrorists would agree to let the authorities provide some food and water for the passengers.
Glancing over, she realized they’d ended the video call. The man with the burned face had been pure evil, but she had enough to worry about at the moment. She looked around in a daze, her breathing shallow. Her eyes met those of one pilot, and he nodded at her reassuringly. There wasn’t anything he could do to help her, however. If the crazed terrorists wanted to rape or otherwise assault her, the pilots had no way to stop them. Her arm throbbed, and she tried to move it as little as possible. The hijackers seemed to be debating something amongst themselves. She was shocked when one of them got on the loudspeaker.
“Attention passengers, this is your captain,” one of the hijackers announced. “I’ve agreed to let the airport staff provide food and water as a gesture of my goodwill. We will be opening the door to the aircraft shortly. If anyone moves or attempts to escape during this delivery, you will be shot. If more than one person rises from their seat, I will detonate the bomb, killing everyone on board instantly.”
Callie stiffened. One of the men moved toward her again, and while he didn’t outright attack her, his hands roamed freely over her body as she broke out in a cold sweat. She cringed as she felt his hand between her legs, over her yoga pants.
“Leave her!”
He muttered something in Arabic, and then both men disappeared back into the cabin. Callie looked out the cockpit window, and she could see vehicles crossing toward them in the night. Were they really going to deliver food and supplies?
In the next moment, all hell was breaking loose. There was shouting and thumps from men fighting and then several shots fired in the dark. People began screaming, and a man yelled from the front of the aircraft. “Open the emergency exits!”
“Everybody out! Go! Go! Go!” an authoritative voice boomed from the back. Callie glanced at the pilots in a panic and then stood, her heart racing. She clutched her arm to her side, tears rolling down her cheeks as she swayed on her feet. The pain in her arm was brutal, piercing and agonizing. There were more voices yelling, and the passengers inside the cabin had begun to stand, pushing their way toward the emergency exits.
Several men dressed in camo, carrying weapons, appeared. “Drop everything and quickly evacuate!” one of the men shouted. “Hurry! Hustle along!”
Callie was pushed forward in the crowd of people. One of the soldiers had untied the pilots, but she was in the aisle, already out of the cockpit, just trying to get off the damn airplane. People were pushing and shoving past. Callie clutched her broken arm, dizziness washing over her.
“Affirmative,” a muscular man in fatigues at the middle exit said into his mouthpiece as she was shoved forward. “The bomb is off the plane. Repeat. The bomb is off the plane. Roger. We don’t know if other explosives are hidden onboard. Over.”
Callie noticed the American flag on his uniform. Was he a SEAL? Some other type of Special Forces soldier? She had no idea what U.S. military members were stationed nearby. The U.S. didn’t have any bases in the Philippines as far as she knew.
She began to cry as she was shoved forward, and the soldier caught her eye and palmed her shoulder gently. She was almost as tall as him, but he seemed much bigger because of his broad shoulders and chest. She could almost feel the warmth and strength radiating off him. He was calm and in control, an anchor in the midst of the chaos around her. “It’s okay, ma’am,” he said gruffly. She looked at him tearfully, and he seemed to focus on her face for a moment before his gaze tracked to her broken arm. “I’ll help you,” he said, gripping her waist and lifting her toward the slide. He lifted her like she weighed nothing, his hands both gentle and firm. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’re almost off the plane.” The man set her down gently on the inflatable slide, making sure she was steady, and then Callie was whizzing down it into the night.
Medics were rushing around her moments later, and she was lifted onto a gurney and wheeled off to the side, away from the doomed airliner. Callie blinked in the bright light as they rushed her into a triage area, shocked as someone began taking her pulse and assessing her injuries. She closed her eyes as people moved around her, feeling the prick of a needle being inserted into the vein on her hand. Cool liquid came into her vein a moment later, an IV drip set up.
Callie felt like she was in a warzone. Sirens sounded in the distance, and there were people around her moaning and crying. The floodlights and emergency vehicles in the dark night gave the entire scene an eerie feel. Somewhere in the distance, the hijacked plane still loomed, with the dead bodies of several passengers as well as the hijackers.
She shivered.
“Ma’am, tell us your injuries,” a voice ordered.
A thin blanket was draped over her, and then someone else was gingerly maneuvering her arm, wrapping it tightly to hold it in place. She felt cold, like she was in shock. Nothing about tonight felt real.
Callie had no idea how much time passed, but suddenly, the man who’d rescued her was there, sucking up all the air in the tent. “Are you okay?” he asked, striding over. He looked taller than before, larger than life next to the small gurney she was lying on. She could see his bulk and strength despite the uniform he wore. No doubt the guy was solid muscle beneath. He’d lifted her up earlier like she’d weighed nothing at all. At the moment, concern was etched across his gruff features. She took in his green eyes, the stubble on his strong jaw. He still wore his helmet and headset, his rifle slung across his back. He looked ready to charge back in and take down anyone who stood in his way. Inexplicably, she felt safer now that he was here. Settled.
“You saved me,” she said, her voice cracking.
“They hurt you,” he murmured. Although his voice was gentle, Callie could hear the anger tinged beneath. He cleared his throat.
“I think my arm is broken,” she whispered.
“Did they give you any pain medication?” he asked, his gaze tracking across the area around her. She was hooked up to an IV drip, and Callie assumed they’d put some type of drug in it. Her arm was still throbbing, but it was a dull ache, not the sharp pain she’d experienced earlier.
She nodded. “I think so. It doesn’t hurt as badly as it did earlier.” She cleared her throat and shifted, then whimpered slightly on the cot.
“What do you need?” he asked, his gaze intense.
“Water.”
He looked around again and then pulled his own canteen from his gear, helping her to take a sip. Maybe she should’ve been afraid of the large, muscular man beside her cot, offering her his own water, but Callie just felt...safe. “What’s your name?” she asked, after she’d swallowed a couple sips.
“Wyatt. I apologize for not introducing myself. My SEAL team was tasked to rescue you and the other passengers. I saw that you were injured on the aircraft and wanted to come check on you.”
“Wyatt,” she repeated quietly. “I’m Callie.”
He nodded, like he already knew that. He probably knew a lot of things about the situation that she didn’t. Callie had been stuck on the airplane for hours, at the mercy of the armed men. She had no clue if the hijacking was worldwide news, if her family was wondering if she was okay. Callie traveled so much; her parents mostly followed her social media channels to see where she was in the world. Had she even told them she was flying to Seoul? Probably not, she realized.
“It’s nice to meet you, Callie, although I wish it had been under different circumstances.”
“You and me both,” she muttered, and she didn’t miss the slight quirk of his lips.
“They’ll get you to a hospital. No doubt you’ll need a cast on your arm, but hopefully it won’t require surgery.”
She nodded, briefly wondering why he was telling her all this. Was he visiting other hostages turned patients in the triage area? She doubted it. She couldn’t deny she felt better with him here. The hijackers were all dead, from her understanding, but that didn’t stop the adrenaline and terror from coursing through her veins.
Wyatt lifted a hand to his ear, and she realized he was listening to something over his earpiece. “I’ve got to brief with someone. I’ll come back and check on you.”
“Okay,” she said, her eyes already closing. “Oh, wait! Did the other passengers get off the plane? I met a woman, Olivia....”
Recognition crossed his face. “Olivia is just fine. I’ll have the guys let her know you were asking about her. You’ll be okay, Callie,” he murmured. “You’re safe now.” Then his big frame was turning away, moving back out of the tent.
When Callie awoke next, she was being loaded onto an ambulance, the EMTs speaking rapidly in Filipino. Sirens sounded in the distance, flashing lights brightened the night, and teams of men rushed by. Someone was shouting orders in English, and she blinked. Was the FBI here, too? She saw the bold yellow letters on the back of a woman’s jacket.
Her head rolled to the side, and two men in camouflage jogged by, their combat boots pounding on the ground. Callie winced as the EMTs lifted her stretcher into the ambulance. The drugs they’d given her had made her incredibly tired, and her throat was raw from screaming earlier. She was drained. Exhausted. As they slid her stretcher into the waiting ambulance, she briefly wondered if Wyatt was still here.
The doors slammed shut.
