Ghosts on a Plane Page 7

  So far

  I froze, believing for a moment that I’d heard an echo. How else could I explain hearing my own voice turned back on me? It had to be an echo. Never mind that no other words had echoed in here.

  So far

  “Hello?” I tried repeating the tone and timbre of my previous words but nothing happened. There was no echo in here. Knowing it might be the worst idea ever, I stepped back to the mirror and faced the image of a woman who appeared to be me.

  This must be a trick! I tried to reason it out as I examined the scene. Feeling around the mirror with my fingers, I didn’t find anything unusual. Nothing to indicate a hidden camera, no gaps in the wall where an outside voice could come in. After a few seconds, I concluded that I must have imagined it. Oh, great, now I’m hearing things. Dr. Kennedy is going to love this. I shook my head. The truth was, I was so stressed right now, it was a miracle I wasn’t hearing more than one voice in my head. I offered my reflection a supportive smile.

  My reflection didn’t smile back.

  The woman in the mirror, the one who looked like me, leaned forward and grimaced. She was so close now that her forehead pressed against the glass, and she left a greasy print on her side of the mirror. I flattened against the wall behind me, unable to look away. I screamed, remembered to move my feet and reached for the door handle. The woman who looked like me was speaking now.

  Sanguis eius exquiritur.

  I froze. I’d heard that on the phone earlier. She said it again, louder this time, as she slapped her palms hard against the mirror.

  Sanguis eius exquiritur!

  I couldn’t stop staring at the reflection. I gasped at the sight of the glass beginning to crack. I screamed, “Heath! Someone!” and closed my eyes to the horrific sound of glass cracking. I counted to three, then opened them again. She was still there in all her horror. The woman with my face had her throat cut. Blood poured down, covering her blue shirt and turning her clothing an awful purple color.

  “Oh, God! Someone!” I shouted at the top of my lungs as I banged on the door.

  “Blood is required,” the reflection snarled as she reached for me. Just in the nick of time, I threw myself against the bathroom door, narrowly avoiding her grasping fingers.

  I sank to the floor, and everything went dark.

  14

  Heath Blake

  “I brought you another drink, Mr. Blake. It’s a Bloody Mary. I made it myself.”

  Where had she come from? Again, I hadn’t heard Antoinette’s noisy cart coming down the aisle, nor had I seen her walk by me in the last fifteen minutes. Last I knew, the airline hostess had walked toward the cockpit and disappeared behind her faded blue curtain.

  “Uh, no thanks. I’m not a fan of vodka.” I flipped through a magazine I’d found stashed in the seat pocket in front of me, hoping she’d leave me alone. It was an old magazine, at least a decade old. She squatted beside me and gazed into my face, which nearly made me jump. What was going on with her? She had to be sick or something. I knew for sure that her makeup had let her down. I could see that her skin was quite discolored. Her icy blue eyes lacked luster now, and it appeared that she had little control over the left one.

  “Not even a sip, sir? For courage?” Antoinette asked as she stirred the straw around in the drink. No way in hell was I going to drink that thing after she’d handled it.

  “Courage for what?” I asked, not wanting to know her answer. She rose clumsily to her feet and peered down her narrow nose at me.

  “For the task at hand, of course. You read the letter, Mr. Blake. Blood is required; it’s always a requirement. That hasn’t changed. It will never change. Now it is your turn to deliver.”

  Feeling agitated, I threw the magazine down on the seat beside me and tried to stand up. Mostly, I wanted to get away from her. When had I put my seat belt on? I savagely tore at the buckle. “What do you mean? What are you talking about? Did Thibodeaux put you up to this? Is this some sort of test?”

  Antoinette shook her head slowly. It was an odd gesture. She looked sort of wobbly, as if her bones were perched precariously atop one another, and if she shook too hard, she’d fall apart in front of me. I felt sick. Just looking at her made me sick.

  “Oh, no, Mr. Blake. This is no test. This is the real thing. Would you like your drink now?” She pushed the drink toward me again. Was she trying to poison me? Was that Thibodeaux’s plan all along? Bump me off and elevate my cousin Timothy? I’d never met the guy, except at Thibodeaux’s office. But he was a Blake, and I wouldn’t put it past him to try. Maybe he and Thibodeaux were in cahoots. The attorney had the warmth of a demented undertaker. I gathered that after just minutes with him.

  I wracked my brain, trying to think of something to say. What could I say to compel her to go away and leave me alone right this minute? Worry shimmied up my spine. Where was Bonnie? She’d been gone at least ten minutes, which seemed a long time for a trip to the bathroom. What happened if she disappeared in there, like that little girl? I’d be alone on this crazy flight to Rachel Island with Antoinette and the other weirdos.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” I began, hoping she’d take the hint, but the woman didn’t budge from her spot.

  “I’m afraid we have to know, Mr. Blake. You must say the words, it’s simple. Say the words. Sanguis eius exquiritur.” Her voice took on an eerie, strangled sound, just as it had earlier, but now it was worse. Much worse. She sounded like a perverse schoolteacher as she enunciated each word again slowly.

  “San-guis ei-us ex-quir-it-ur. Now come along, say it.”

  I leaned back as far as I could go. “Who is this ‘we’ you are referring to? And I’m not saying anything!” All of a sudden, a terrible scraping sound came from the right side of the plane directly behind me. It sounded as if metal strips were being pulled off by vicious claws, larger than any claws I wanted to see. Either that or we were falling apart in midair. The lights flickered off and on and finally off completely, and I heard screaming all around me. To make matters worse, the screams weren’t merely the frightened passengers. There were other voices in the mix, unearthly noises, and one very distinct voice that I recognized above all others. It was my Uncle Alistair!

  When the lights came back on, Antoinette had vanished, and the plane was no longer half-full. It was filled with an odd assortment of travelers who looked like they’d come straight out of a horror-themed Renaissance festival. There were people in old-fashioned garb from centuries ago, looking as dead as dead could be. And right on cue, they all turned to stare at me. Some didn’t bother to turn their bodies, just their rotten heads. In one voice, they groaned, “Blood is required.”

  The lights flickered again as I broke free from my seat belt. I fell into the aisle but didn’t stay down long. Bonnie’s screams and my own blood-curdling yell drove me to my feet, and I raced toward her. I could hear her pounding on the door of the lavatory, shrieking my name. Thankfully, the hellish sight had vanished. The dead passengers were gone, but I heard Antoinette’s laughter behind me. I didn’t turn around.

  With all my might, I ran toward Bonnie.

  15

  Gregory Lawless

  Gripping the yoke with both hands, I clenched my jaw and tilted it back in a last-ditch effort to lead the plane away from the cloud ahead of us. At this rate, we’d be immersed in it within maybe ten minutes. I managed to nudge the plane up a few degrees, but nothing significant. Not enough to make a difference.

  I reached for the radio mic and said, “Rachel Island, this is Flight 1199, please come in.” I waited ten seconds and called again, “Rachel Island, this is Captain Lawless of Flight 1199, please come in.”

  Nothing but static. It was like there was no one on the ground. No one to hear us. No one to help us. Maybe all the shaking knocked something loose. The way the compass bounced around now, it could be easy to get lost, but thankfully, I knew this area. I’d made the flight to Rachel Island dozens of times. However, all I was seeing right now wa
s the ocean. I had enough fuel to make it to the island, but not much more than that. Veering just a little off-course could lead to disaster.

  I shoved the mic back as I watched the obstacle ahead of me pulsate and grow. Where was Antoinette? Now I had to face this thing alone.

  “Dad? Dad?”

  The sound of my daughter’s voice whispering over the speakers broke my heart, but I knew it couldn’t be her. “Dad? Dad, can you hear me?” She was at home, packing up her gear by herself, getting ready to make the big move to campus. She’d been so angry when I picked up this extra shift. Julie wanted to hang around the fire pit, roast marshmallows, listen to music, and talk about old times. I wanted to do that, but how could I? I’d blown her future at the poker table. How could I sit there and pretend I hadn’t screwed up her life? I needed this shift, this time away to think about how I was going to break it to her. When I told her, I knew it would be the end of everything between us. And I deserved whatever I got.

  And then, as if there were any doubt, I knew for sure this voice booming over my radio wasn’t my daughter. “Daddy?” She’d never called me Daddy, not even as a toddler. The fact that this thing would imitate my daughter infuriated me.

  “Get off my airplane!”

  “Daddy, do you see me? I can see you, Daddy,” it hissed over the speaker now. The Julie-thing’s voice warbled as if it were being played on an old Victrola, one of those old-fashioned hand-crank record players. “Do you see me?” it asked more insistently.

  To my horror, I did see her. The thing that looked like my daughter hovered in front of the plane, just feet from the nose. It wasn’t Julie as she was now but Julie as a small child, in her white nightgown and long brown pigtails. I stomped the floorboard in anger as tears filled my eyes, but the thing vanished, and I suddenly heard a whump above my head. Had it landed on the plane?

  “Daddy, I’m so close now. So close I could touch you,” it said in a sing-song voice. “Here I am, so close to you, Daddy.” Twisting my neck, I gazed up at the ceiling, praying to God above that whatever was out there didn’t get in here. Not again. Something had taken Desi—it had to have been this thing—but it hadn’t tortured him like this. Sweat poured off my forehead, and my hands were so wet they practically slid off the yoke. I couldn’t give up. Who else would fly this plane? All my passengers would die. I couldn’t let that happen.

  A blast of cold air rushed above my head as if someone had opened the roof. Twisting even more now, I stared up the roof of the plane and gasped as I saw tiny white hands reaching inside for me. It was there, the Julie-thing, it was there and coming for me, its arms outstretched. Its face, white and twisted with evil, wore a chilling grin.

  “I’m here, Daddy, I’m here for you now. You have to pay for what you’ve done. You have to pay. Blood is required.”

  16

  Heath Blake

  “Heath, oh, God! That thing, the thing in the mirror! It looked like me, but it wasn’t me! It tried to grab me!” Bonnie collapsed into tears on my shoulder, and I held her.

  “What do we do? We need help! People are missing. Sasha Garcia and God knows how many others are gone. Let’s talk to the captain. We’ve got to get into that cockpit and talk to the captain! Someone needs to know what’s going on back here! If he could get on the radio, maybe they’d know what to do. But what if he’s missing too? What if he’s not there at all? Please, help me.”

  I didn’t tell her about the ghosts, and I didn’t tell her I knew why they were here. They were here because of me. This was my fault. I wasn’t sure how it would all work out, but I knew the Blake inheritance had something to do with it. “You’re right, we need to talk to the captain.” I grabbed her hand and walked toward the cockpit door. Before I reached to open it, Antoinette appeared, her once-neat hairstyle destroyed, her hair now springing around her shoulders like dirty ropes. Her makeup was gone, and her face looked dead. Her eyes were opaque, the eyes of a dead woman.

  She warned in a gurgling voice, “Go back to your seats. The seat belt light is on.” She blocked the cockpit door, and there was no way I could get past her. She growled under her breath like the devil himself.

  “Bonnie, step back.” She did as I asked without argument.

  A scream from the cockpit changed everything. I could hear a man cursing and fighting with someone. Right before our eyes, Antoinette grinned and vanished. I knew she was something terrible, but a ghost?

  We wasted no time in banging on the cockpit door. “Hey! Let us in!”

  “Help me!”

  We kept beating on the door, but the captain couldn’t open it. And was the wind I heard whistling in there? Had the cockpit been breached?

  Bonnie examined the door lock. “It’s got a key! We need the keys!” She took off running to the service area and returned with three keyrings while I continued to tug at the door handle to no avail. The man inside was still alive and yelling for help. I could hear the agony in his voice.

  “We’re trying! Hold on!” Bonnie shouted.

  “Come on!” I yelled as I banged on the door. Finally, four keys in, Bonnie found the right key. She slid it into the lock and opened the door with a click. I bounded inside, ready to come to the captain’s rescue, but I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.

  The captain was by himself and dangling from the air, held high by an invisible force that appeared determined to do what? Drop him? Pull him out of the plane? There was no time to figure it all out.

  “I’ve got you!” I raced to the man, whose eyes were wide with fear and panic. I grabbed his legs and attempted to pull him down, but he didn’t budge. He screamed in pain, and I could see blood begin to stain his white shirt, starting at his shoulders.

  “Bonnie! Help me!” Bonnie just stood there, whispering with her hands clenched and her eyes closed. What was she doing? Meditating? “Bonnie, help me!” She raced to my side and grasped a leg. Suddenly, the captain fell on top of me and hard.

  “Thank you,” he said when he could talk again. “Help me get into my chair.”

  “You need medical care, I think. You’re bleeding pretty good.”

  “Oh, my God!” Bonnie cried out as she pointed toward the windshield. That got me up off the floor. “That cloud, it’s green, and there are things in it.”

  “What?”

  “She’s right,” the captain said as he hobbled back to his chair. “This is the third patch of the stuff, and it looks bigger than the last one. I can’t go around it. I’ve tried. The last time through, I lost my copilot.” With a grim expression, Captain Lawless strapped on his seat belt and watched the cloud as it illuminated in random places. With each flash of green light, we could see odd things, black, shadowy things that couldn’t be alive. In minutes, we’d be in the middle of the cloud with those things.

  “What happened to your copilot?” Bonnie asked as she stood beside the captain, her eyes riveted on the horrible sights that lay ahead of us. “Can’t we call someone? We need help!”

  “No one can help us, ma’am. Believe me, I’ve tried. Whatever this is, it’s messing with my communications. I can’t call out, and apparently, they can’t call in. Whatever we’re going to do, we are going to have to do it alone. What’s it looking like back there?” The captain was busy punching buttons on his board, but the only response was a row of red lights. He was doing his best to get us to Rachel Island safely, but I had a feeling it was hopeless.

  I knew this fell on me.

  The kicker was that of all the people on this flight, I deserved to die because of what happened to Gloria. Not them. Not any of them. My mother had left me to watch my sister. She’d specifically asked me to watch her and not leave her down by the lake, but I didn’t listen. I’d gotten aggravated with Gloria because of some dumb argument, and I’d left her on the shore, never dreaming that she’d wade in and drown. Mother had hated me for that. For the rest of her life, she’d hated me, but that was nothing compared to the hatred I felt for myself. I deserved to die, but B
onnie didn’t, the captain didn’t. If I could save them, I would.

  “Captain, I can’t explain it, not in any way that makes sense, but I know this has to do with me.”

  Bonnie put her hand on my shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself for this. This is a freak thing. How can you blame yourself?”

  “Trust me, Bonnie. It’s me. I have cargo below, two crates. I think the cargo is what’s attracting these things to our plane.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” Her mouth twitched nervously.

  Static broke over the radio, and the captain lunged like a madman for the microphone. “Finally, something! Tower, this is Flight 1199 approaching Rachel Island. Please respond, over.” Captain Lawless worked his board, but his efforts weren’t going to help us. I felt a heaviness come over me. I had to do this. I had to make this right. We were getting closer to the cloud, and nobody could get through to us.

  “I have to get the cargo off the plane. I have to get rid of it. Tell me how to do that.”

  The captain grimaced and rubbed his face with a weathered hand. “What does that have to do with these hallucinations or whatever they are? What have you got down there, some kind of poisonous gas? A chemical that causes hallucinations? Something flammable?”

  “I wish it were something so normal.” Just then, we began to hear tapping on the door. Soft taps.

  “Two guesses as to who that is,” Bonnie whispered fearfully as she grabbed my hand. It had to be Antoinette coming back to evict us from the cockpit. Or kill us all. Why was she stalling? Couldn’t she come in without knocking on the door first?

  Because blood is required. These ghosts wanted us to suffer, to feel the torment. They reveled in it. They delighted in it.