Grace Takes Off (12 page)

Pinky’s free left hand grasped Evelyn by the top of her head, grabbing tight fistfuls
of hair. Evelyn dropped to her knees with a whimper.

Time and action all caught up now, Pinky pointed the gun at me. “Don’t move.”

WHIPPING AROUND TO FACE THE REST OF THE
passengers, Pinky shouted, “Don’t anybody move.”

I froze in place, weight on my forward foot, one hand still outstretched, so close,
yet not close enough to Evelyn to drag her out of harm’s way. As I eased to straighten,
I became aware that Bennett had gotten to his feet. Matt and Adam jumped up right
behind him.

“Stay back,” Pinky shrieked, her eyes wild, her grip tightening in Evelyn’s dark tresses.
The woman on the floor cried out again, clearly in pain.

“What is wrong with you?” I asked. “Put that gun away.”

Pinky backed into the corner, pulling the other woman, squirming, beside her. “No
one moves unless I tell you to. Do you understand?”

I sent a fearful glance around the cabin. Wide, panicked eyes met mine. Even the two
chatty women had silenced themselves. Everyone stared at Pinky. At Evelyn. At me.

“What do think you’re doing with a gun on a plane? Don’t you realize how dangerous
that is?” She seemed unmoved by my high-pitched rant. “For you, too,” I shouted. “If
we lose cabin pressure, we’re all dead.”

Pinky took a shaky breath. “One bullet hole in the fuselage won’t make a difference,”
she said. “Not unless I blow out a window.” She waved the semi-automatic. “Trust me,
you don’t want that.”

“Listen, Pinky,” I began, realizing how little I knew about this woman. I didn’t even
know her first name; I’d venture to guess that no one on this plane did. “You don’t
want to threaten—”

“Don’t tell me what I want and what I don’t want,” she said through clenched teeth.
“If you hadn’t butted your nose into my business, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“You tried to kill Bennett.” My voice was high and wild, my rage raw and uncontained.
I nearly leapt across the aisle to attack.

It was only hearing Bennett’s low, “Gracie, no,” that stopped me.

“Yeah, and if it weren’t for you, he would be dead by now.” She lifted her chin toward
Bennett. “And we’d all be better off.” Evelyn clenched her eyes and lips shut as Pinky
twisted her hair. The captive woman trembled with fear.

“So you admit it—”

“I admit nothing. I’m not going down without a fight.” Her eyes were flat, dark, and
dead. This was a different woman than we’d seen earlier. Terror was making her ruthless.
“You can either let me go when we land, or you all die.” She hefted the gun. “This
holds seventeen rounds, and I’m a crack shot. Do the math. Nobody goes home unless
I go free.”

The plane erupted with loud confusion. Above the din of the two women screaming, Adam
and the other band members shouting, I heard Bennett. “Why?” he asked.

No one listened.

“Pinky,” I said, keeping my own voice low. I took a hesitant step forward.

She leveled the gun, eye height. “Go ahead, take one more step. I dare you. You’ll
never take another. Don’t push me, honey. I can place my shot where it will do the
most damage: jammed into the back of your thick skull.”

I sucked in a breath.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she said. “Not because I’m a nice guy, but because
that will only complicate my departure.”

I didn’t doubt it. There wasn’t even a glint of compassion in that expression.

“Now,” she said, raising her voice, “everybody listen up.”

The group fell silent. Once comforting, the solid roar of the engines reminded us
that we were tens of thousands of feet in the air. Vulnerable.

“You will all sit down,” she began. Pointing the gun at Rudy, who had inched toward
the rear of the plane, she added, “You, too. I want to be able to see all of you.
See what you’re doing.”

Slowly, everyone began reclaiming their seats. “That’s better.”

Millie barked her displeasure.

Pinky glowered at the dog. “Shut that mongrel up,” she said.

Matthew pulled Millie closer, stroking her fur and murmuring softly. “Don’t shoot
my dog,” he said.

Pinky looked away. “I don’t hurt animals.”

“But people are fair game?” I asked.

“Just the ones who get in my way.”

Bennett had remained standing. “Why?” he asked again.

Pinky didn’t answer. She aimed.

Bennett didn’t flinch. “Why do you want to kill me?”

“Bennett.” My voice came out raspy. “Don’t goad her. Please don’t.”

“You have no idea how bad I want to get this over with,” she said. I was the only
one close enough to see her other hand, in Evelyn’s hair, spasm as though pulling
a trigger. I winced.

“No—” I cried.

“It’s a simple question,” Bennett said, stepping out into the aisle. All that did
was give Pinky an easier target.

I swallowed. “No,” I tried again, hardly able to manage more than a pleading whisper.
“Bennett.”

Clasping one of the leather seat backs in a strong grip, he didn’t pay me any attention,
but affected an air of curiosity. “I assume you’re not acting alone, Pinky—or whatever
your name is. You’ve been assigned to get rid of me, and I want to know why.” He waited
a beat then curled up one corner of his mouth. “That’s presuming you even know the
reason.”

“Of course I know,” she snapped.

The plane dipped slightly in several quick bursts of turbulence, making Pinky stumble.
Evelyn yelped as tufts of her hair were yanked out. The dark tresses floated to the
floor as Pinky shifted to regain her footing.

Bennett never lost his grip of the headrest. “Then by all means”—he held out his free
hand, encompassing the group—“enlighten us.”

Indecision danced in the back of her eyes for a fleeting moment. She ran her top teeth
over her bottom lip then said, “Can’t.”

Bennett didn’t break eye contact. When he took another step forward, I sucked in a
terrified breath. “What is it you want from me?” he asked. “There must be some way
to settle this.”

Again, she wavered. “Back off, old man,” she finally said. “You got lucky this time,
but you won’t again. If I didn’t need to get off this plane, you’d be dead on the
floor right now.”

Harsh words, steady gun. This woman wasn’t messing around. She blinked hard, twice,
the way drivers sometimes do to stay awake. I got the impression she was desperately
fighting for the best answer to this mess. “What I want,” she continued, “is safe
passage off the plane when we land.” She worked her mouth. “You all get that? Easy
stuff. You keep your mouths shut until I’m out of here, and nobody gets hurt.”

“Except me, you mean,” Bennett said. He took a step closer to her.

“Don’t!” This time I shouted, my word a strangled cry.

He held a hand up to me to warn that he knew what he was doing.

“I told you,” Pinky said, looking around as though seeking a way off the airplane,
“all I want is to get away. We land; I go. You keep your mouths shut about all this.
You breathe a single word, and I’ll hunt you all down and kill you one at a time.”

“I don’t think so,” Bennett said.

Pinky watched him.

“Why do I get the impression that your deal doesn’t include me?” Bennett asked with
conversational nonchalance. “Why do I get the sense that someone—you perhaps, maybe
a colleague—has plans for my demise whether you go free after this debacle or not?”

Her eyebrows jumped; it was an involuntary affirmation, which twisted my stomach.
“Just let me go,” she said avoiding his question. “Make it easy on yourselves.”

“Young lady,” he said, “you’re brandishing a firearm on an airplane. You’ve taken
a hostage. There is no chance whatsoever you’re leaving this plane in anything but
handcuffs. If you tell us who’s really behind this, it could go easier for you.”

Pinky yanked on Evelyn’s hair, pulling her to her feet. The woman stumbled upward,
tears of pain in her eyes, but she didn’t cry out. Facing Bennett, Pinky spoke low,
her voice menacing. “You take one more step, she dies. And then I’ll have nothing
to lose, will I? Right now, you let me walk away and she lives.”

She let go of Evelyn’s hair, but held her tight by the upper arm. For her part, the
flight attendant looked as though she’d drop to the floor if Pinky let go.

“Everybody sit down,” Pinky said. She waved the gun at Bennett. “That means you, too.”

He glanced over at me. We were the only two who had remained standing. With an expression
of vexed resignation, he nodded acknowledgment and retreated. As we both sat, Pinky
shoved Evelyn into her own vacated chair, not the jump seat, and trained the gun’s
barrel at her forehead.

“That’s better. Let’s all just stay calm for the rest of the flight. No one moves.
Not an inch, do you all understand?” She waited for murmured acquiescence as she worked
her mouth. “How much longer do we have before we land?”

Evelyn stared up at her captor, eyes blank.

We all turned as Rudy spoke up. “Six hours,” he said. “That is a long time to hold
us in our seats.”

Pinky scrunched up her nose. “And a long time for me to stand. I want to sit.” Contemplating
her options as the rest of us anticipated her next move, she began to make puffing
noises through pursed lips. Her leg bounced. This was not a woman with a plan; this
was a woman who couldn’t figure out what to do next. What scared me most of all was
that she expressed no remorse for what she’d done so far, and only the barest hesitation
to escalate the situation.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” she said, raising her voice, though the cabin was
as silent as a small plane compartment could possibly be. “I’m going to sit. This
woman here”—Pinky pointed at Evelyn with the gun—“will sit in that little side chair.”
She indicated the jump seat. Looking around at all of us staring back, she pointed
the gun again. “You, the other flight attendant. What’s your name again?”

He raised his chin and his voice. “I am Rudy.”

“Well, Rudy, I’m putting you in charge. You make sure that nobody moves. Got that?
And nobody leaves the plane until I get away.” She stopped, considering this. “For
at least a half hour.” She waited for him to nod before adding, “Don’t worry. You’ll
survive.” With a smirk, she added, “As long as you behave.”

Rudy cleared his throat and half rose from his seat. Pinky’s eyes narrowed. “Evelyn
is the primary flight attendant,” he said. “There are important things she must do
before we land. If she doesn’t, there will be questions.”

Pinky scratched her chin with the back of her wrist, fingers wrapped around the gun’s
grip. I took consolation in the fact that at least her index finger wasn’t on the
trigger.

Perhaps sensing the woman’s indecision, Rudy spoke up again. “These tasks are imperative,”
he said. “There is no changing that.”

Pinky looked over to me, as though gauging whether to have me and Evelyn change places.
Before I could even consider what I’d do if she proposed a switch, Pinky shook her
head at Rudy. “You do them.”

Almost completely to his feet now, Rudy said, “But then I must have free access to
the front.” He pointed past us to underscore his meaning. “You will allow me?”

“When do you need to do these ‘tasks’?” she asked.

He stared at the back of Evelyn’s seat as though he was hoping the woman would turn
around and give him guidance. “An hour before we land,” he said. “Or maybe one half
of one hour.”

Pinky’s jaw pulsed, but she relented. “You will not move without my permission. And
when you’re up here”—she gestured toward the front of the plane with her head—“I will
be watching you. Is that clear?”

Rudy blinked. “Clear. Yes.”

“Now, sit.” She nudged Evelyn up and into the jump seat with the barrel of the gun.
As Pinky resumed the front seat, she swiveled so that she could keep us all in her
sights. Turning to me with cold resentment on her face, she glanced down at her gun
then back up at me. “I actually hope you try something stupid. I really do.”

I DIDN’T KNOW HOW MUCH TIME TICKED BY. I
rarely wore a watch and couldn’t consult my cell phone, which was, in any case, turned
off and stowed in my purse. What felt like an hour was probably no more than ten minutes,
but I felt every inch of every second, doing my best to quell heart-in-my-throat fear.

We’d come to as much as of a truce as we could have, given the circumstances. Other
than Millie’s occasional barks and nuzzling whimpers, not one of us made a sound.

Matthew tried for some leniency. “She has to go,” he said, petting Millie’s head.
“Her designated spot is up front. It won’t take more than a minute or two.”

“No,” Pinky said.

She didn’t elaborate, and no one pushed her. The smoke-screen card game long forgotten,
Pinky was ensconced in the soft leather chair, Evelyn on the edge of the hard temporary
seat. No one spoke.

We waited for one thing: to land. For this nightmare to be over. For all of us to
depart with no one getting harmed. We hadn’t discussed Pinky’s planned escape among
ourselves at all. What choice did we have? Pinky seemed all too willing to influence
us with her seventeen-round weapon. She was going to get away with this.

And yet . . .

I craned my neck to check on Bennett. He sat far back, on the opposite side of the
aisle, staring out the windows, probably thinking exactly what I was: There had to
be some way to stop her. There had to be a way to find out who wanted Bennett dead.

“Turn around,” Pinky said to me.

I sighed for effect, but complied. “How do you expect to get away?” I asked her. “I
don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, do you?”

I faced the window.

A short while later, metal scraped against metal: a lock turning. I sat up. Evelyn
spun toward the sound. Pinky faced her seat forward and stashed her gun next to her
leg as the cockpit door opened.

The co-pilot held up a hand. “Everybody still awake, eh?” Tall and muscular, he had
short, curly red hair and what would have been an infectious grin in another life.
“Most folks are dead to the world right about now.” He laughed at his own joke. No
one joined him.

Confused, he took in our silent, immobile group. “Everything okay back here?” He placed
one sturdy hand on the back of my seat, the other on Pinky’s. “You all aren’t worried
about that bit of turbulence, are you? It’s going to get worse before it gets better,
but there’s nothing dangerous.”

“That’s great,” Pinky said with a tight smile. “Good to know.”

Encouraged by this minimal response, he grinned at the rest of us. “Think of it like
a fun roller coaster. A few dips and rises here and there, but everyone gets off the
ride in one piece at the end.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” I said.

He gave me a puzzled look. “So you are nervous, huh?”

I ignored Pinky’s glare. “More than you realize.”

“Seriously?” He leaned in closer, patently concerned for my well-being. “There’s nothing
to be afraid of. I’ve been flying for years and been through much more tense situations
than we’re in now.”

Because he faced me, he didn’t see Pinky raise the gun just enough to remind me it
was there. Yeah, like I could have forgotten. She pointed it at the back of his head
and shot me a look that warned me to shut up.

I nodded. “Thanks,” I said. “That helps.”

He wasn’t about to be dismissed so quickly, and I berated myself for engaging him
in conversation. I’d put his life at risk. “You fly chartered jets often?”

It came across like a bad pickup line. “Nuh . . . no, this is only my second time
on a charter.”

Behind him, Pinky’s eyes widened. An unambiguous signal to cut this conversation short.

“Well,” he said, straightening and stretching his long arms out on either side of
his body. “Smaller planes are my favorite way to fly. There’s nothing else in the
world like it. It’s like—I don’t know—like being strapped to a bird.” Chin up, arms
out, his face took on a look of pure rapture. He stayed that way for less than five
seconds, but it felt like a thousand years.

“Thanks,” I said, breaking his spell.

“You get used to the motion of the plane. You start realizing it’s normal.” He tilted
his head, dropped his arms, and regarded me. “Start thinking of it like that and you’ll
never be afraid again.”

“I would like to not be afraid.”

“It’s easy.” The grin was back. “My name’s Robert, by the way. But I like Bobby better.”
He looked ready to settle in for a chat with an eye toward more. Maybe that
had
been a pickup line.

When Pinky aimed, with a menacing appraisal of the back of Bobby’s head, I practically
screamed at him to leave. I forced myself to adopt a haughty air of disinterest. “That’s
great, thanks,” I said, and turned to face the window.

He made a sound like
“Humph,”
and waited a few beats as though hoping I’d return my attention to him. When I continued
ignoring his presence, he shrugged and continued to the back of the plane, where we
heard him enter and lock the lavatory.

“What kind of smart-aleck are you?” Pinky shout-whispered.

I pulled my lips in and fought the bile rising in the back of my throat.

Moments later, the washroom door opened, and I studiously avoided making eye contact
with co-pilot Bobby. He loped up the aisle to the front of the plane, slowing as he
passed my seat. I pretended to sleep and a moment later he was back inside the cockpit;
I could practically feel the collective breath of relief we all took when we heard
the door latch.

“Don’t try anything like that again,” Pinky said.

I didn’t even try to disguise the peevishness in my tone. “I’m tired of your antics.
You’ve got control now. Why don’t you just shut up?”

I knew I shouldn’t egg her on, but the tension in the plane, the encroaching claustrophobia,
and the very real fear that the co-pilot could have been shot—which would have been
my fault for talking with him—sent my nerves spinning.

Rather than react, however, she settled back into her seat, leaning her head against
the cushy back, watching Evelyn as though she expected the other woman to leap up
and wrestle her for the gun. Evelyn kept her face averted and I thought I noticed
small chunks of hair missing from her scalp. I could only imagine how much pain she
was in.

Not wanting to cause more, I sighed and looked away. I knew we all fervently wished
that we’d land in Charlotte in a hurry.

Over the next hour or so, the turbulence continued, and just as Bobby had predicted,
we became accustomed to the bumps and jostles. There were far fewer dips than there
had been and, despite the circumstances, despite the rush of adrenaline that zipped
up whenever I thought of how close Bennett had come to ingesting the killer drugs,
my body craved rest. I’d been up since early this morning, and I knew that hours in
this gently rocking plane could easily lull me to sleep.

Behind me, others had already begun to doze. Soft snores came from both sides of the
aisle. I turned to see Adam, Rudy, and Bennett still awake but everyone else in various
stages of slumber. I felt a prickle of annoyance but realized that when the body is
pushed to its limits, something has to give. We’d all been stressed to the max, wreaking
havoc on our energy levels. The threat of imminent danger was gone, and so our bodies
did what was required to recharge.

I fought the urge to close my eyes, adjusting myself in my chair, blinking and pinching
the skin on my forearms and legs to create quick bursts of pain that I hoped could
keep me alert. Never again would I criticize a movie or a book where the captives
fell asleep. I was discovering, much to my frustration, how difficult it was to remain
conscious.

Evelyn stared at me, her eyes wide and her fingers gripping her knees as though to
keep them from knocking or her hands from shaking. We knew better than to speak, but
I tried my best to communicate support.

Pinky, it seemed, was having difficulty staying awake as well. As her eyes fluttered,
her chin lowered, and her jaw began to drop. After as many alcoholic beverages as
she’d had, I wasn’t surprised. With a start, she sat up. I turned back to the window
before she realized I’d noticed.

Pinky had the gun tucked next to her beside the armrest, where I couldn’t see it.
I wasn’t able to tell if she had a finger on the trigger or if she’d let her grip
relax. Attempting to disarm her would be a risk—a big one—but what other choices did
we have?

I bit my bottom lip. We could let her go, I thought. Give in to her demands and pretend
that she’d never threatened any of us.

I didn’t like it.

Pinky’s chin dropped again. This time, however, instead of snorting herself awake,
her head lolled to one side, and she began breathing evenly. I watched her for a slow
count of ten, then fifteen. Her lips, slack and open, moved as though she were trying
to mouth, “Weh weh weh.”

Evelyn watched me intently as I pantomimed sticking a gun at my side and then silently
asking her if she could see it.

Her dark eyes were full of terror and determination as she leaned forward ever so
slightly to get a better angle. The jump seat creaked and we both froze, but Pinky’s
body had relaxed. She was out.

Evelyn pointed to where the gun was, then lifted her hand and extended her fingers
in a clear message: Pinky had let go.

Careful not to make a sound, I twisted around to see Adam, Rudy, and Bennett all watching
with rapt attention, Rudy on the edge of his seat. He lifted a finger to his lips
and shook his head. It was at that moment that I realized the next move was up to
me.

I don’t know what I’d hoped—that when the coast was clear one of them would step forward
to disarm Pinky? Doing so would cause commotion, wake her up. Evelyn was closer, but
her jump seat made too much noise.

I breathed as slowly as I could manage, keeping my mouth open to quiet the sound.
Without grasping the armrests—in case they squeaked—I slipped my feet out of my shoes
and noiselessly maneuvered myself to a crouching stand.

I would have one shot at the gun. One.

My fist came up to my mouth as I fought down my rising panic. It didn’t help to note
how badly I was shaking. Freedom could be two steps away. All I needed to do was cross
the aisle, reach down, and grab the gun. Could I do it smoothly enough? What if it
was jammed too tightly against her leg?

Three steps, I decided. I’d take three. That would put me that much closer. Give me
better leverage from above. I might be able to slip it out without her noticing.

My breaths came shallow and fast.

Evelyn shook her head, her eyes wide. I didn’t know what she was trying to communicate,
but her fear was palpable. I pointed to her then spread my hands, asking an inaudible
question, “Do you want to get the gun?”

She shook her head, violently. Put her hands up, as though begging me to sit down
again.

I turned to the three men watching me. Matthew was awake now, too. Millie had gotten
to her feet and was prancing and panting, clearly hoping someone would finally let
her relieve herself. I held up a hand, hoping that would keep the girl quiet, but
the alert look in those dark brown eyes told me she was ready to bark.

Now or never.

One.

I took a step forward. The quiet hum of the plane masked the sound of my movement.
Pinky’s breathing deepened, slipping into soft snores.

Two. Another step forward. I could see the gun. I glanced back at Matthew, who was
furiously petting Millie, rubbing her face and nuzzling her snout, doing his best
to keep her quiet.

This was it. I took a deep breath and froze as Evelyn let out a gurgle of fear. Her
face crumpled, and her hands came up next to her head. She clenched her eyes and let
out a low moan. I stopped in my tracks, holding my breath. Pinky didn’t move, but
Evelyn stared up at me with wild eyes. It was clear the tension had taken her to the
breaking point. She wasn’t going to last another second at this rate. She was going
to explode. I had to act.

The minute I leaned into Pinky’s chair to reach for the gun, Evelyn screamed and leapt
to her feet, smacking me backward. I landed, double-
thump
, hitting the side of my chair before ending up on the floor.

“I can’t take it! I can’t take it!” With me out of her way now, Evelyn grabbed for
the gun.

Pinky, almost forgotten in the sudden frenzy, woke up with a shriek, becoming immediately
aware of Evelyn’s attack. Evelyn had gotten to the firearm first and the two women
struggled, grappling and fighting for control.

I scrambled to my feet, aware of the men doing the same. Just as I got both hands
around Pinky’s upper arm, she twisted the gun’s barrel downward, into Evelyn’s face.
In panic, or the sudden comprehension of the situation, Evelyn went rigid. Her eyes
wide, she let go of the weapon, both hands flying up in surrender.