Gloria has paused, as if waiting for my reaction. I say nothing, and she continues.
“Conrad shot the pilot, and Neil said he could fly the plane. Except either he’d only taken a few lessons or he’d only flown them in video games, because he could barely keep the plane up.”
Neil. The guy who’d been worried about Jolene disappearing. A decent guy, who never caused any trouble, so I can’t imagine why he was on the first flight.
Because the council insisted. I remember that now. I’d overheard Phil and Dalton speculating that Neil was a VIP the council wanted to grant the privilege of an early exit.
That’s when I see Neil, as if my memory conjures him in the flesh. I catch a glimpse of a figure through the ripped metal. A face twisted sideways, crushed against an equally twisted pilot’s seat. I can’t see more than that, and it is enough. He’s obviously dead, as I expected. He’s also in the pilot’s seat, as Gloria said.
Have I screwed up here? Was it Conrad who lost it? I want to ask more. Why did he try to shoot you? What did he say? I can’t speak, though, or she’ll know I’m not where I said I was.
I’m close enough to the opening that I need to duck. When silence falls, I hear Dalton’s voice. He’s on the radio. I can’t tell what he’s saying, but his tone says he’s trying to hurry through the call and get back to me. Any moment now he’s going to come running, first-aid kit in hand.
I take another step. Movement stops me short, my foot twisting on the rock, boot giving the faintest squeak.
“Casey?”
I reach for a rock and pitch it at the back of the plane. I have no idea what the hell that’s supposed to tell her, but some of the tension leaches from her voice as she says, “How is he? Can you get the thing out?”
As she speaks, I’m stepping forward, my gun in hand. The middle bench seat is right there. As with the rear one, I can only see the back of it. There’s the squeak of vinyl, and then a head appears, and I yank my gun down just as Gloria looks around a seat back. She gives a yelp and falls back.
“Oh my God,” she breathes. “Casey. You scared the life out of me.”
Gun hidden at my side, I move forward until I can see her. The inside of the cabin is dark. The smell of blood hits me. Blood and piss and shit. The stink of death. Neil is right there, dead, in his twisted seat. There’s another body crushed in the front, this one halfway through the broken windshield. The pilot? In the copilot seat there’s a dead woman, her face covered in blood. A resident, but there’s too much blood for me to recognize her, and all I know is that she’s dead, and I take a split second to silently apologize for being unable to grant her a name yet.
My gaze then goes to the middle bench seat. Gloria is in the first seat, right beside me. I can barely make her out in the dim light, and when I raise my flashlight, she shields her eyes.
“I’m fine,” she says. “Just pinned here. My seat belt saved me, but now it’s stuck.” She yanks at it uselessly.
I shine the penlight in, the weak beam fading fast in the shadowed interior. Brandon sits beside her. His eyes are closed, eyelids twitching. His chest moves quickly, as if he’s breathing fast. Beside him is Sylvia, also unconscious. I don’t know her well, only know that she’d been a thorn in Phil’s side, with endless petty complaints that had earned her a seat on this flight.
There’s only one person in the back bench. Ted. A metal rod pierces his chest, pinning him to the seat. His eyes are open and his mouth works, but he doesn’t seem to hear or see anything.
“I’m going to try to help Ted,” I say. “I couldn’t get the bar out from the back.”
Gloria only nods.
“First let me help you with that seat belt,” I say.
“N-no, I’m fine. Help Ted. Please.”
I shine the light around the cabin. “Where’s Conrad? You said he shot the pilot?”
“Yes, and then he wouldn’t get back in his seat. Kept yelling that Neil was going to get us all killed.” Frustration seeps into her voice. “You need to help Ted, Casey.”
“I am. I’m assessing the situation before I get back where there’s not much room to move. If Conrad is in here somewhere, alive and armed—”
“He’s not. That cargo door opened on impact, and he flew out it.”
“Who else was sitting back here?”
“Neil. There was someone else in the copilot’s seat. I don’t know her name. Casey, you really need to—”
“I’m going to wait for Eric. He’s bringing the medical bag.”
“Wh-what? Ted’s hurt. Dying. You can’t—”
Dalton’s feet pound, cutting her off. Before I can move, she lunges. My gun flies up, but it’s not me she’s lunging at. It’s Brandon. Her seat belt flies free, and she grabs him, yanking him in front of her as her right hand whips up, a gun pressing to Brandon’s chest. His eyes open.
“I-I’m sorry,” he says. “S-she made me keep my eyes shut and pretend to be unconscious.”
“Shut up,” she says. She raises her voice. “Sheriff Dalton? I know you’re out there.”
I glance over to see Dalton poised ten feet away, gun drawn.
She continues, “I also know you’re going to pretend you aren’t so you can sneak up on me. You have to the count of five to get where I can see you. Otherwise I kill Brandon. First Brandon. Then Sylvia. Then Ted, if he’s not already dead, and then your girlfriend here.”
Dalton appears, gun raised. I’ve still got mine trained on Gloria, and she doesn’t even seem to notice that. She spat her plans as if we’re all just going to stand here and watch her shoot us, one by one. The only person really at risk is Brandon. That still matters. They all matter.
“It’s okay,” Dalton says, his voice calm as he lowers his gun. “You’re in charge, Gloria.”
I almost laugh when satisfaction crosses her face. I’ve got a gun trained on her, and yet she believes Dalton. He’s the real threat, after all. The tough, steely-eyed sheriff. If he’s listening to her, and he’s lowered his weapon in surrender, then she has won.
“Sh-she killed the pilot,” Brandon says, and this time, Gloria doesn’t tell him to shut up. “She was pretending her stomach hurt so she had her seat belt off and was moving around, and she took his gun. Then she shot him. Shot the pilot. On a plane in the air.”
Gloria scowls. “I didn’t mean to. I was trying to sneak the gun out, so I could kill Conrad when we landed. Only the pilot noticed, and my finger slipped.”
“Did it slip when you shot Conrad, too?” I ask. “Putting bullet holes in an airborne plane?”
“Right?” Brandon says, his voice going higher still. “Who does that? She almost killed us all.”
“Shut up,” she snaps. Then she looks at us. “Here’s how it’s going to work. You two will back off. Casey will lower her gun. I’ll take Brandon. He’s my hostage.”
“Fine,” Dalton says. “Take him and go.”
“What?” Brandon squeaks.