4. Travis
The hum of the engines fills the cockpit as I guide the Learjet through the mostly cloudless sky, my mind drifting lazily to thoughts of white sandy beaches and crystal-clear waters. There’s something intoxicating about being in the cockpit and flying thousands of miles above the ground. It’s freeing. The weight of the world below are down there. I can let my mind drift a little. The autopilot has things under control, and I don’t see anything on the radar.
Hawaii awaits, a paradise of relaxation and indulgence, and I can practically taste the sweet tang of a Mai Tai on my lips. I packed swim trunks and shorts and plan on wearing just that for the next couple of days. I want to be barefoot with my feet buried in the stand. If things worked out the way I hoped they would, I might find a little female companionship.
Nothing serious. I didn’t want a relationship. It was the last thing I needed in my life. I was always out of town. I have spent the last ten years working in the airline industry. I couldn’t begin to count the number of relationships and marriages that ended because of the constant travel. We spent most of our time in other cities and countries with a group of people. It was inevitable for things to happen. I wasn’t innocent. I had my fair share of affairs with flight attendants. You’re away from home in a hotel with a beautiful woman in a room next door. The temptation was real.
My daydreams were interrupted by the sound of Paige scolding someone. I turn back to see if we had a stowaway on board. Nope. She’s on her phone. Her laptop is open and there are files spread across the table.
I can’t help but cringe. The woman is wound way too tight. She”s one of those anxious clients who prefer to keep to themselves. She’s not the first one, but she’s easily one of the prettiest. I”ve learned not to take it personally. After all, I”m just the hired help—a means to an end.
Even though she clearly thought I was far below her social status. The woman dressed for a six-hour flight like she was going into a courtroom. The heels, the tight skirt and the severe ponytail were all a little much for what should be a relaxing flight. The skirt wasn’t all that short, but from what I had gotten to see of her legs, she looked like she was a runner. Her body was fire. I liked that she didn’t wear a lot of makeup. Her stunning green eyes and plump lips didn’t need any help. I would like to see her let her hair down.
I could see her desire to control everything, even the way she carried herself showed it. She was straight-backed and elegant. It was intriguing to watch her work, even though she clearly didn’t think much of me. I couldn’t help but admire the fire in her eyes when she spoke, how her voice commanded attention.
But there was something beneath that icy exterior. I could sense it, a loneliness that mirrored my own in some ways. Maybe that”s why she set my teeth on edge — because in her, I saw a reflection of the walls I built around myself. I understood her type, the ones who thought they could control everything. They were always the first to lose it when things went awry. That”s why she was so angry with me. I didn”t show up on her schedule.
Paige was like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment. But there was something about her, a vulnerability that she tried so hard to conceal beneath those layers of professionalism and distance. I had checked her ring finger...she wasn”t married or engaged. I pegged her to be in her late twenties. She was on the career track. Probably had a serious boyfriend but only saw him when they could pencil it in on their calendars.
”What do you do for a living?” I ask casually. I know the rule is I”m not supposed to be seen or heard, but I”m curious. It”s a long flight. Without a flight attendant, it”s just a little quiet.
”Lawyer.”
I almost laugh. I pegged her for a lawyer or Wall Street type the moment I laid eyes on her.
”Working on a case?”
”Yes,” she snaps, clearly not happy to have me trying to make small talk.
I glance back and see she”s buried in her laptop. I suppose she”s lost in a world of legal documents and corporate jargon. I would pull my hair out if I had to spend my days staring at laptop screens or trying to find clever ways to get my clients out of trouble.
It”s none of my business, really—I”m just here to fly the plane and get us safely to our destination. But as the minutes tick by and she remains eerily quiet, a flicker of curiosity tugs at the corners of my mind. I haven”t heard her on the phone yelling at anyone in a while. Maybe she passed out.
It”s not until Paige appears in the doorway of the cockpit that I realize just how quiet she”s been. ”Hey,” she says, her voice surprisingly soft. She startles me.
”Yes?” I ask.
”Do you want something to drink? I”m getting myself something. I assume that”s okay. We did pay for the refreshments.”
She just had to add that last bit. But I am surprised at the unexpected gesture of kindness. ”Uh, sure. Water would be nice, thanks.”
As she disappears into the galley, I can”t help but wonder what”s prompted this sudden break in her icy exterior. Maybe she”s just trying to be polite. Or maybe she”s finally realized that being stuck in a metal tube thousands of feet above the ground isn”t the time to maintain a fa?ade of superiority.
She holds out a bottle of water. ”There are a lot of snacks in the fridge. Can I have one?”
I shrug, my attention focused on the controls in front of me. ”Go ahead. If there was an attendant, she”d be serving you anyway.”
”Do you want something?”
”No thank you. I think there should be stuff in there to make sandwiches. We usually serve some kind of cold meal. If you”re unable or unwilling to make yourself a sandwich, I can do it for you.”
She gave me a hard look. ”I know how to make a sandwich.”
”Help yourself to whatever you want in there.”
”Thanks.”
As she busied herself making a sandwich, I couldn”t help but steal glances at her. The way she moved with quiet confidence. She was fun to tease. I can”t help myself. ”Hey, can you make me a ham and cheese please?”
She looks over her shoulder at me, clearly perturbed. I can”t help but flash her one of my most charming smiles. ”Sure,” she says with a tight smile. ”Mustard?”
”No, just mayo, please.”
As Paige rummages through the fridge, I have to fight the urge to laugh. I return my attention back to the jet. I scan the instruments and notice something is just a little off. It”s not a big deal. It happens all the time, but I want to keep my attention on things.
”Here,” Paige says, holding out a sandwich wrapped in a paper towel.
I don”t give her the attention she”s demanding. A nagging sense of unease settles in the pit of my stomach. Something doesn”t feel right, but I can”t quite put my finger on it. Then, without warning, one of the engines sputters.
I can fly on one engine. It”s not the end of the world. The engine sputters again and quickly dies. The jet jerks a bit before I quickly compensate for the dead engine. The silence deafening in its suddenness. Panic surges through me like a tidal wave, threatening to overwhelm my senses. But years of training kick in, and I force myself to remain calm, to think rationally in the face of impending disaster.
”Paige,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady. ”You need to sit down and buckle your seatbelt.”
She looks at me, a puzzled expression on her face. ”I want to make a sandwich,” she protests, her tone bordering on annoyance. ”I made yours. Here.”
”Sit your ass down!” I shout. ”Put your seatbelt on and if you”re the type of woman that prays, I would start doing so now.”
I saw the moment she understood what was happening. Fear flickered in Paige”s eyes as the gravity of the situation sank in. Without a word, she scrambles back to her seat. The plane began to veer slightly to the left as I struggled to maintain control with only one functioning engine. The sense of impending doom fills the cabin like a dark cloud, suffocating any hope of a safe landing.
I could feel sweat beading on my forehead as I fought against the turbulence, trying to keep the aircraft steady. ”Mayday, mayday,” I say calmly into the headset. ”We have lost engine power and are experiencing severe turbulence. Requesting emergency landing assistance.” I relay the message to the air traffic controller, my voice betraying none of the fear that threatens to consume me.
I know the odds. I can already see the outcome of this situation. I”m fifty miles away from the island. I”m not going to make it to an airport. As if to confirm my beliefs, the second engine started to spit and sputter.
”Oh please,” I murmur. ”Come on, come on.”
And then it was gone.
”What was that?” Paige shouts. ”What”s happening.”
I owe her an explanation. Not that it”s going to make her feel any better, but she should know what was coming. ”We”ve lost our engines,” I tell her.
”What! What does that mean? Are we going to crash?”
There was no easy way to answer that question. We didn”t have engines. We didn”t have wings. That meant we didn”t fly. ”Yes,” I reply.
She doesn”t start screaming, so that was good. I hop back on the mic and report my last coordinates. All my instruments are flat. The only thing I can assume is there”s been a major electrical problem and I”m flying a giant metal paperweight.
I focus all my attention on the task at hand, scanning the horizon for a suitable landing spot. Blue ocean stretches out as far as the eye can see. I blink and try to focus my eyes. There”s a speck in the distance. I don”t know if I can make it. We”re losing altitude too fast. The lower we get, the more it becomes clear it”s an island. If one could call it that. But it”s our best shot at survival. I have to get us there.
With a steady hand and a prayer on my lips, I guide the stricken jet towards our uncertain fate, knowing that every second counts in this deadly game of chance. I know I have only one chance to make this landing as smooth as possible. If I hit the water too hard, the jet will disintegrate with the force. If I go down too far from the island, the chances of us getting to the safety of the shoreline is slim. I accept the fact that I have about a ten percent chance of surviving this.
I push down on the controls, trying to glide the jet as smoothly as I can towards the sandy shore of the tiny island. The adrenaline pumping through my veins drowns out all other sounds, all other thoughts except the singular focus on keeping the aircraft steady. Paige is silent behind me.
The island looms closer, a small strip of land amidst the vast expanse of ocean. I can see the waves crashing against the rocks, a stark reminder of the unforgiving nature of the sea. But there is no turning back now. I must trust my instincts, my training, and hope that luck is on our side. The silence in the cabin is deafening, broken only by the rushing wind and the sound of my own heart pounding in my chest.