Justine couldn’t believe it was finally over.
The captain announced they were just minutes away from Detroit. The first thing Justine did when they landed would be to cancel her return flight and rent a car to drive back home.
There were a dozen emotions she should be experiencing. Relief that the danger was past. Fear for what her son witnessed. Guilt that she had survived while several others on the flight hadn’t been so lucky.
Curiosity and confusion. Why hadn’t the gun gone off? Was it the old lady’s prayers? Steve would tell her it was some sort of miracle. That God had saved her and West both. As glad as she was to be alive, if it really had been God’s hand saving them, why hadn’t he protected all the other passengers just the same?
Justine’s body was trembling, but she wasn’t cold. It wasn’t until West reached up to touch her face that she realized she’d been clenching her jaw.
“Mommy?” he asked.
Justine’s heart nearly broke in two at the sound of her son’s sweet and innocent voice.
“Yeah, baby?”
West started to turn around in his seat. Justine held him so he couldn’t look behind and see the signs of violence in the aisles.
“Mommy?” he repeated, squirming in her grip.
Justine didn’t let go. “What is it?”
“What’s that smell?” West asked.
This time Justine did turn and saw a billow of smoke filling the back of the cabin. An alarm started to blare, deafening her ears.
Please, God, no, Justine begged as the passenger behind her shouted in a shrill panic, “Fire!”