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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/bloodoftheforest on 2024-10-27 19:43:38+00:00.

Of all of the living people involved in this story, I’m the only one who didn’t see a single thing until it was far too late. Any of the others would be more qualified to tell it but here we are, over a decade later, and none of them really feel like talking. Can’t say I blame them. But for reasons that will be apparent much, much later I feel like someone has to tell people and until somebody else writes something better, this account will have to do.

Being a pilot isn’t like you imagine it’ll be when you’re a kid. It’s stressful, the hours are weird and whilst the constant travel is exciting it also makes holding down a long term relationship incredibly difficult. It’s common not to seek professional help for stress, bereavement or trauma for fears that you’ll be diagnosed with anxiety or depression… a diagnosis that gives you a fun choice between being grounded for months at a minimum or lying on the next medical and facing a fine and jail time. You can go to beautiful new countries and be too tired and busy to even get a look around and whilst I don’t think that flight crews are necessarily more prone to drama than any other profession it can can get intense fast.

But I loved it. It seems childish to say but if the flight I’m about to recount had never happened then I probably would have been flying until my body or brain were no longer up to the task, whichever gave up first. It just feels like where I’m meant to be. Not in some deep, spiritual sense but more the quiet kind of “ah yes, this is correct” that some people might get when clicking the final piece into a jigsaw puzzle or cooking a particularly satisfying bowl of pasta. That day was no different. I pushed the throttles forwards and everything felt fine. We picked up speed and everything felt normal, Mark called out to let me know we’d reached 80 knots and everything felt normal. Hell, not even normal – things were good. There were no real crosswinds to speak of and whilst Mark had used aftershave he hadn’t practically showered in it like the last guy I’d flown with so that was a welcome relief.

Given that I’m not meant to be telling you anything at all I can’t afford to give away too many details about the flight itself. It was a smaller plane, I don’t see any harm in saying that, and a route I’d flown before. The first hour of the flight was pleasant, Mark telling me about a greek mythology series I hadn’t seen and me segueing this almost seamlessly (well, maybe a little seamfully) into a book I’d read last year that also dealt with mythology in modern times. We actually both wanted different food than each other so there was no awkward discussion as to who was going to get the ‘better’ option. Utterly nothing interesting happened but why would I need it to? At that stage of a flight interesting was just another word for bad and Mark was lively enough conversation that I wasn’t gettting bored.

“I’m changing careers,” Mark said out of nowhere, “I’m going to become a flight attendant. In fact, I think I’ll start right now – I’m going to go and trade places with Ava, I’m sure she can fly fine.”

“Um, what?” I asked, utterly lost.

“I’m going to get Ava to come join you so I can go and take a piss.”

“Oh.”

Shortly after, Mark had disappeared and been switched with a woman who definitely wasn’t Ava.

“I thought Mark said he was switching with Ava.” I commented as Karen came to join me.

“Disappointed?”

“Not even slightly.” I said, and I meant it.

“Ava’s boyfriend is on this flight and so she wanted to keep chatting with him.” Karen explained, “Young love. Isn’t it just sickening?”

The warm grin on Karen’s face made it incredibly clear that she didn’t find it anywhere near as annoying as she was pretending to and probably wasn’t even bothered.

“How is it back there?” I asked.

“Eh, fine. Talked with Ava’s new boyfriend who has apparently ‘heard all about’ me from that landlord issue I helped Ava with a few months back and I had to pretend I knew all about him too so that’s always fun. There’s a couple of weird guys in suits who have handed out books. And I had to spend at least ten minutes figuring out who’d switch places with a guy who couldn’t sit where he was because of the perfume of the woman next to him. Problem being that both him and the woman were making such a fuss that everyone around knew why he wanted to move and so it wasn’t an easy sell.”

“Was he allergic?”

“No, he just said it smelled to bad to be next to.”

“Did it?”

Karen pulled a face.

“It… wasn’t great.”

Mark would undoubtedly be taking his time to stretch his legs and possibly even try to catch up with Ava before he headed back to the cockpit. Technically he shouldn’t be gone any longer than needed but walking around to stretch out his legs could be argued as necessary and he was almost never gone so long that I actually begrudged him the break.

“What’s weird about the suit men?” I asked Karen, “Are the suits odd or something else?”

“Well, they’ve given everyone on the plane a book, so that’s pretty weird. The books are really small but even so their bags must have been stuffed with them.”

“What’s in the book?”

Karen shrugged.

“I didn’t get one, they were just handed out to the passengers. There’s nothing on the front of them and when I asked Tyler what was in it he said it looked like nonsense.”

“Tyler?”

“Ava’s boyfriend. Come on now k-”

Karen cut herself off as I moved to let Mark back in.

“What’s with the yellow books?” he asked her before she left.

“No idea. I’ve already told Matt all I know.”

Mark looked at me questioningly.

“So are the books a religious thing then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

He had no further questions and so I thought that was that.

______

Karen came back to the cockpit ten minutes later, which was noteable in itself. For those who haven’t flown much or have just never really noticed – the cockput isn’t somewhere that anyone can freely wander in and out of. Outside of certain very specific circumstances, the door doesn’t even open from the passenger side of the plane without persmission from one of the pilots and Karen’s claim that she ‘had a letter’ for us was extremely suspicious. It wasn’t what she would say to us if she was being threatened though and so, perhaps against better judgement, we let her in.

To my surprise, Karen actually was holding a letter in her hands. Nobody was stood next to her to try and force their way in as I’d feared but she looked shaken.

“It’s for either of you.” she said as she went to hand me the letter only to jerk it back at the last second, “Actually maybe I should hold it for you to read.”

“What, you think it’s laced with arsenic?” Mark joked.

“Just don’t touch it.”

“Why?” Mark asked.

“Because I’ve read it and it’s weird.”

Karen isn’t an easy woman to shake up. Being a flight attendant is her second stab at life, something I learned after admitting to her that I wished I gave as few fucks in life as she did. “Well, you try being married to a monster for two decades and maybe it’ll sort you out too,” was what she’d told me at the time and as we’d had time to talk she’d given me a cliffnotes of the whole sorry saga. As well as a relentless enthusiasm when it came to trying new things she also creditted being married to an abuser with her complete lack of patience with bullies. After the things that her ex husband had done to her when she’d felt utterly trapped and alone the things any future bully would do when she had the power to walk away or scream at them just seemed toothless in comparison. Or to quote her directly, "What’re they going to do marry me?"

Mark and I read the letter in silence. I don’t have a copy and probably can’t remember it word for work but the gist of it was that the letter writer wanted us to divert the plane in order to move some cargo. If we chose not to, people would die. If we chose to land in a different airport, people would die. If we even contacted anybody on land, people would die. The letter writer said that the first person would die in ten minutes and as a show of good faith and their commitment to the cause, it would be one of their group. After that every ten minutes it would be someone new, chosen at random. If the letter writer was killed or knocked out then this would not stop new people from dying, the only way that letter writer would let us all live was if we fufilled his demands entirely. Then, at the bottom of the letter, a latitude and longitude.

“What the fuck…” Mark whispered.

Karen folded the note back into her pocket.

“It’s from the men with the suits and the books.”

Mark stood up.

“Well, I’m going to have a talk with them then. Tie them up and tell them not to menace people on our fucking plane.”

“No,” Karen said firmly, “you both need to stay here in case… well, in case. And they’re both already tied up now.”

“What, how?” Mark asked.

I don’t know if I believe that Mark could physically restrain two men by himself. He’s undoubtedly a strong man, he goes to the gym as often as he gets a chance to, but two against one doesn’t sound like great odds. Karen however finds the gym boring and whilst she is fit enough to go on infrequent hikes and dabble in other physical pursuits she doesn’t look particularly strong.

“They just let me,” Karen said, seemingly taking no offense at the question, "I got some cable ties and they offered their wrists up and told me that they aren’t armed anyway. They we…

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