Lufthansa Flight LH400
Frankfurt am Main International Airport, Frankfurt, Germany
Amira buckled Maya in, Alexis taking care of Rima, the two of them chitchatting about everything around them, Rima seeming to have taken to the American woman whose Arabic was excellent if heavily accented. She pulled her own belt tight and leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes, not sure of what to expect. This was her first time on an airplane, and she was at once scared and excited.
With all the terror she had experienced over the past weeks, she decided excitement was what she should be focusing on. This was a new experience, and who knew if she’d ever get to experience it again.
A smile spread across her face as the sound of her children’s giggles filled her ears. It was so good to hear them happy. Maya was old enough that she would probably never forget what had happened to her father, but Rima might in time. It would sadden her to think her youngest would forget her father, though it was probably for the best. She would do everything she could to keep his memory alive in her mind, as long as it wouldn’t rekindle the nightmare of that day when he had died.
Her smile faded as those minutes played out like a horror movie.
She opened her eyes.
And gasped.
A man was staring at her as he walked down the aisle, his hands gripping the back of each seat as he passed, first his left, then his right, then his left again. She didn’t recognize him, though she had the distinct impression he recognized her.
His right hand reached up and he placed a finger to his lips.
A finger attached to a deeply scarred hand.
She paled, nearly fainting.
Then he went by.
Amira gripped the armrests with both hands, her entire body shaking as she desperately squeezed down below, trying to avoid a repeat of the last time she had been so frightened.
He had seen her.
He had recognized her.
And he had warned her.
She glanced over at Alexis, showing the girls the safety guide, desperately wanting to tell her what had just happened.
But stopped herself.
If you tell her, she might try to do something.
She closed her eyes, trying to control her rapid breathing.
And he might kill us all.
Tears filled her eyes, collecting in the corners as all hope faded inside.
After all this, I’m dead anyway.