rcadia Flight 818
Another Flight. Same Plane. New Number. Different Results?
A Joseph Nardone Short Story
The third known flight
Copyright Joseph Nardone 2016
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United Arcadia Flight 817
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Jared tries to settle into the cockpit. No passengers or crew are on the vessel yet, but he can feel a sense of remorse already settling in. Nothing has happened. Still, he knows what the outcome will be. Or, at the very least, he knows one of the two outcomes.
“Mintz, do you have your stuff together? Plane will be boarding in less than an hour.”
It is the voice of the man who essentially forced Jared to helm the doomed voyage.
Nervously, Jared wants to respond. His hands shaking, remaining unclear of what his actual objective is, but now without armed men in his face, he attempts to muster up some courage.
Sarcastically he responds, “You know, the least you can do is tell me your name.”
Silence at first is transmitted through the radio. Not dead silence, though. White noise is emanating from the radio, as if the man in the suit wanted to answer but needs to ponder his response first.
“Call me Dean.”
“Assuming that’s not your actual name there, Dean. But we’ll do you. For what it is worth, you don’t look like a Dean to me.”
Jared hasn’t exactly settled into his new role as “Captain of Doomed Arcadia Flights,” but he’s combatting his stress the only way he knows how. Without Jennifer by his side, while currently trying to figure out what happened to her on United Arcadia Flight 817, he has resulted in using his sarcastic wit.
“Don’t forget you owe your life to John, Mintz. Let’s not try too hard to be clever here.”
As the man in the suit, now known as Dean, is talking to Jared he can hear other people in the background. He’s uncertain what it is they’re saying, but he knows Dean is not alone – wherever he is.
“Dean… Can you at least tell me what my role in this is? I’m in. I buy all the way into whatever you’re trying to do here if it means I can find Jennifer.”
Some of the signals are clearly crossed, and a few of the voices become clear.
“Let me tell him…” A response to someone else was unintentionally broadcasted for Jared to hear.
“But sir…”
“Only some of it. Don’t worry. Our boss won’t be upset with this.”
Jared interrupts the conversation. Had he been more patient maybe he could have gotten more details, but time is running out before the plane is set to depart. He is frantic to get as many answers as soon as possible.
“What are you going to tell me? I can hear you, you smug…”
“Calm down, Mintz.” A stern sounding Dean replies. “Here’s the truth. We don’t know all that much. That is pretty much it.”
“You know nothing?”
“We know more since you and John came back. We know now that it works both ways. Passengers disappear sometimes, and other times new people show up.”
“What do the new passengers, the new people have to say about all of this?”
“That, Mintz, is above your paygrade. All I need from you is to be calm. Fly the plane as if you’re flying it as you have a thousand times before. Let the rest playout as it will, then I will see you again if you land.”
“What do you mean by if?”
---
“Hello, Captain. We have already started to board the plane. Skeleton flight it appears.”
Jared nods at the stewardess. He doesn’t know who she is. Despite being nervous, he realizes he is meant to play this voyage out as cool as possible.
“Call me Jared.”
An incredibly gorgeous, black haired beauty responds, “Hi, Jared. My name is Sasha.”
Sasha smiles, let’s Jared know that the co-pilot should be here any second, and that she’ll take the preemptive strike of getting them coffee before either of them ask for it. She hands him the flight manifest before she leaves the cockpit.
Already wallowing a bit in his own self-pity, Jared picks up the paper to see how many souls he is responsible for. The list is only four people this time. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s purposely withholding knowledge that the four of them, as well as his steward and co-pilot, are likely to not meet their final destination.
As Jared looks over the names of each of the passengers, he notices that one of them is marked as an Air Marshall. “Kyle Kensing” it says. Ideas have already begun to rush through his head that he should approach the Marshall before the flight takes off. With hopes he can help with whatever the hell it is that’s going on.
While he is doing that, in walks in an older man. Gray hair, chubby, looking a little bit rough around the edges, it is indeed his co-pilot.
“Mintz,” utters a man who could be confused with a sea pirate as much as an airplane pilot. “Heard a lot about you. Heard you’re one hell of a pilot. Short trip. Small load to carry. One steward. Who’d you have to go down on to get this gig?”
Despite knowing that inevitable horror awaits, Jared can’t help but take a liking to this roughshod of a human.
“Name is Tommy Barnouse.”
The two shake hands. Jared even feels a slight sense of relief wash over him.
“So, Jared, I see we have a Marshall on our vessel today. Wonder what that’s about. I know there’s supposed to be one on each flight, but guy’s going to have his hands full with those three other pesky passengers, Sasha, and us.”
Speaking of the devil, Sasha walks in to the cockpit.
“Guys, the Marshall wants to say hi… I guess?”
Jared is nervous. “What if he knows something?” He thinks to himself.
At the same time, it is not as if he could say no to seeing the guy. It is not as if any of them are busy with a crazy workload or dealing with a plethora of crazed passengers. Really, outside of the Air Marshall, at least according to the manifest, there’s a John, Nancy, and Walter, all flying on this plane. Sasha, having done her due diligence, has already connected the dots and surmised that John and Nancy are a couple and that Walter is a man who is nervous to fly.
He has no choice to let him in. None. Otherwise, one of his colleagues might think something is wrong.
“Yeah. Let him in. Tell me it has to be quick because we’re about to embark in a few moments.”
In walks in Kyle Kensing. A little young looking for an Air Marshall. Tall, in shape, dirty blonde hair. He has himself a charming southern accent.
“Captain. Co-Captain. Lovely stewardess whose name I didn’t get to catch,” Kensing’s charm is already through the roof with a combination of cheese and sincerity. “Simply wanted to say hi. Let you know I’m here. Gun in pocket sure, but don’t think there’ll be any need for it. Hell, if one of those three bum-rush the cockpit, I’m pretty sure she can take’em down with her good looks.”
Sasha smiles. Doesn’t blush, though. The polite kind of smile that shows appreciation for the kind words, but doesn’t let the person saying it feel as if there’s been a successful attempt at flirting.
“Mr. Kensing, right? Thanks for saying hi,” Jared replies. “But we have to take off now. Let’s hope you’re right, though. If the couple who are staring at each other, or the middle-aged guy terrified to get in the air decides to go rogue, Sasha’s looks will get them
.”
---
“Thank you United Arcadia 818 passengers for your patience. Buckle up for a moment, as we’re about to take off. Nothing but clear skies and a sunny destination awaiting you fine people.”
Sasha takes pride in her job. That is abundantly clear as she went that extra mile to make the mere four passengers aboard the plane feel okay about the departure.
Moments later, the plane is in the air, about to meet whatever fate Jared has been worried about since settling in the cockpit, and seven souls in total are left in the hands of whatever is going on during these Arcadia flights.
In the cockpit, Jared continues to keep his cool. It has certainly helped him that his co-pilot is half everyone’s favorite grandfather and half the person every man hopes he ends up being when they reach their sixties.
“Jared. Friend. So, tell me, how has working for Arcadia been for you so far? I got to tell ya, I’ve been working to the grindstone the last few months. Doubles, triples, sometimes even four short trips in a single day. I hate to complain, but it sure as hell