Flight 219
Bradley broke out into a cocky smirk. “Time’s up.” He put his phone into his back pocket. “Let’s see what else I have to do to get my point across.”
Meredith steeled herself, ready to protect the young boy beside her and his mother if the gunman came anywhere near them. Instead, he made his way toward the back of the plane.
Was that a good sign? Did that mean Meredith was safe? Was she supposed to feel relieved?
Was she supposed to feel anything?
Meredith assessed her own mental state. It was a technique she’d taught Christian women for years. God, right now I’m feeling … Then let your mind fill in the blanks.
She tried.
I’m feeling …
I’m feeling …
God, help.
It was all she could manage to pray, the nonverbal equivalent of a squeak or a gasp.
“Stand up.” Bradley’s voice was strong and echoed from where he stood in the back of the cabin. Controlled. Where did his presence of mind come from?
West’s mom whimpered.
“It’s okay,” Meredith assured her, immediately recognizing the idiocy of her words. She squeezed the young woman’s hand and repeated once more, “It’s okay.”
How could she say such a thing? How could she even think such a thing? At least he didn’t pick one of us, Meredith told herself, remembering her resolve to protect West if she had to. She let out her breath.
God, I’m feeling …
She looked around her. Everyone was staring at the back of the cabin. Everyone was focused on Bradley, terrified and unable to move. Wasn’t that the whole point? Wasn’t that why he’d managed to gain control of the plane so quickly? If someone could just mobilize everybody, if they could just do something … But what?
God, I’m feeling …
Bradley had the gun pointed at a young woman with her hair dyed in beautiful shades of blue. Meredith couldn’t hear their conversation. Was that because they were too far away, the drone of the engine too loud? Or were her senses shutting down?
God, I’m feeling …
She didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see. Wanted to wrap her arms around the helpless boy in his mother’s lap, shield both of them from the terror that was palpable in the cabin. And yet whenever she tried to turn her body, tried to pry her eyes away, she couldn’t. Like a frightening movie that you realize halfway in is far too intense. But once you get past a certain point you have to keep watching. Your mind won’t settle until it knows what’s going to happen next.
God, I’m feeling …
And then she could hear Bradley’s words again, rushing in over the roar of the engine, over her own pulse surging through her ears.
“The people of Detroit have yet another victim on their hands,” he declared, holding the gun steadily. “Your time is up.”
Meredith squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t watch. It took every nerve fiber in her body to keep her eyelids from flying open. She wasn’t thinking about the mother beside her. She wasn’t thinking about the little boy she’d vowed to protect. All she knew was that Bradley was about to kill yet another innocent victim, and there was absolutely nothing Meredith or anyone else on this flight could do to stop him.
God, I’m scared.