Day-Zest Air: A Short Story

® ® Day-Zest Air ® ®

David J. McDevitt

Onboard nonstop 974 to San Diego, Paul was breaking out in a cold sweat. His newlywed Diana was at his side sleeping peacefully, wearing an idiotic-looking blinder, and covered in a paper-thin "blanket" courtesy of Day-Zest Airlines. Sure, Paul was anxious for his wedding night, for as often as he had pressured Diana to sleep with him in the past, she had always refused: but this was not what was bothering him. Yes, the oysters were beginning to upset Paul's stomach, and he wished Diana would have been sensible and agreed to elope, rather than have a full-scale wedding, complete with reception: but this was not why he was sweating. His baser instincts were stimulated and his bowels were churning, but most of all, more than anything else in the world, Paul needed a smoke.

The bald man glanced over his shoulder suspiciously, then got to his feet. He shed his leather jacket, and went to stow it in the overhead compartment, but had some difficulty fitting it in next to his three carry-on bags. He was only allowed two, of course: one bag and one smaller, personal item; but he had managed to slip the third past security's notice. No big deal. He supposed that if they had caught him, he simply would have cussed them out for a good five or ten minutes, forcing everyone behind him to wait in line and be late for their flights; then at last he would angrily give in, and move along only after promising to write a nasty letter to the editor about airport security in New York City.

Well, eventually Paul was able to cram his jacket in there next to all his unneeded luggage, but when he was about to close the compartment he had an idea: he pulled the jacket back out again, and threw it on his seat. If anyone steals it, he thought, I'll sue the airline! Paul then thrust his hands into the pockets of his torn jeans, and strolled casually to the bathroom at the back end of the plane.

* * *

Two serious looking and very well paid men sat in the cockpit, their white shirts pressed, and their impressive caps spotless. One man flipped all the important switches, while the other pushed all the essential buttons.

"Captain White!" the switch-flipper said urgently.

"What is it, Copilot Brown?" came the grim reply from the button-pusher.

Copilot Brown pointed meaningfully to a blinking red light.

"Oh my God," Captain White muttered darkly: "somebody tampered with a lavatory smoke detector!"

* * *

Diana was awoken by the sounds of screaming, as the plane careened out of control. Somewhere, an alarm was honking loudly. Sirens wailed and red lights flashed. The overhead vents circulated vomit-scented air throughout the cabin, and somewhere a baby was howling loudly.

Diana looked across the aisle just in time to see some poor old woman flung forward into her lowered tray-table, and split clean in half at the waist. As the blood sprayed into the surrounding rows, someone nearby shouted:

"Keep your seatbelt fastened at all times, you fool! At all times!!"

The fashionable young lady who had been seated next to the unfortunate senior citizen screamed out loud as the thin red liquid showered onto her new hairdo. "I have to call one of my ridiculously rich boyfriends to whine and complain!" she shrieked, and she pulled out a cell phone.

"Ladies and gentleman, this is your captain speaking! We should be able to pull through this minor incident, but we remind you that this is a non-smoking flight! Thank you! (Oh yes, also please remember that cell phone usage is not permitted while the plane is in the air.)"

Diana looked in horror to the lady across the way, who was just about to hit the green "send" button.

"No -- !"

But it was too late! As soon as the button was pressed, one of the engines blew up! The explosion rocked the plane violently to one side, and the lady smashed her head against the window, which shattered. As the cabin rapidly began to depressurize, the fashionable lady was torn free of her seatbelt, and cast screaming out the window, where she was sucked into a jet engine.

The plane rocked more violently than ever before, and Diana screamed for her husband, just as he came trotting up the way, reeking of cigarette smoke.

"Paul, it was you!"

Paul just looked around at the pandemonium surrounding him, and remained speechless.

"You've doomed us all, Paul! You promised me you had quit!"

"I lied, baby; I lied!" And he lit up another, right there.

Diana was feeling dizzy, and she remembered the broken window. Just then, oxygen masks dropped from the overhead and she quickly put one on. Looking around, however, she saw several mothers trying to assist small children, before securing their own masks! She gaped in dismay as one by one, the mothers keeled over lifelessly.

"Damn it!" Paul threw his cigarette, and seized a mask. He pulled it firmly toward himself, and -- it snapped off in his hand!

Captain White and Copilot Brown appeared at the front of the cabin.

"Folks," the captain said, no longer sounding important or well paid: "the plane is going down. Don't panic, but we're all gonna die!"

Here the captain ran down the aisle screaming and waving his arms. When he reached the end, he slammed his head repeatedly against the flight attendants' mini-fridge, until he fell over with his brains spilling out. At that point, Copilot Brown took charge:

"We need to get off the plane! You in the emergency rows, get those doors open!"

Paul yelled, "not without my stuff!" and opened the overhead to retrieve his three carry-ons. But as soon as he had gotten the compartment open, all of his luggage came spilling out on top of him: it had shifted, during flight!

Paul cursed loudly, and scrambled to pick himself up off the ground; but at that exact moment, the plane lurched upward, sending Paul sprawling all the way down to the end of the aisle, where he crashed into the dead pilot.

By this time the other passengers had followed Paul's example, and were tearing open the overheads; all of their luggage spilled out as it had done for Paul, and tumbled recklessly toward the rear of the plane. Paul looked up in time to see this avalanche crashing straight at him, with no way to slow the onslaught of lethal baggage.

I have maybe two seconds to live! He looked desperately at his virgin bride:

"Quick, Diana! Show me your -"

And then he was crushed to death beneath half a ton of suitcases, backpacks, purses, duffel bags, and laptop computers.

* * *

The passengers were rushing the exit now. Many of them were wearing lifejackets, which they had found under their seats. Diana knew that time was vital, so she seized her seat cushion and made for the exit as well. She didn't make it far, however: the aisle was packed with fellow passengers, trying to escape the impending doom, and the emergency exit had not yet been opened!

Diana looked back, and saw that the doors at the rear of the plane had already been opened; but she could not reach them for the surge of people pushing against her!

"The nearest emergency exit is behind you!" she cried. "Please, the nearest emergency exit is behind you!!" But they did not listen. Diana looked to the front again, to see what was the holdup.

"I don't know how to open this thing!" a small, fat man was telling Copilot Brown.

"Didn't you review the exit-seat responsibilities?! Out of my way, worthless oaf!"

The copilot pushed his way past the fat man, who looked ready to cry.

"You do it like this, you imbecile. Now, how hard was that? All you're doing is opening a stupid door!!"

"Well since you opened the door," the small fat man said, looking ready to break down, "I guess you can go first!" And he shoved Copilot Brown, who fell out the emergency exit, and followed the fashionable young lady of page 2 into the jet intake. The engine sprayed its victim out the other side as liquid, and then blew up.

Someone near the front of the line pulled the red tab on their lifejacket, before exiting the plane, and immediately everyone else was following suit. Within moments, the aisle was crammed with panicky passengers in oversized yellow inflatable vests, and once again, no one could move.

At last the first man in line was able to squeeze out the exit. Then another. And another. Diana was moving forward, slowly but steadily, as the plane zigged and zagged crazily along, without pilot or copilot, and missing two engines.

Soon the huge inflatable slide was within view. All I have to do it slide down, and I'm in the clear! She was being pushed and shoved from every direction; she hung tight to her seat cushion!

At last the man in front of her squeezed his yellow jacket through the door, and hopped onto the slide. This is it! I'm free! Diana leapt from the plane and felt the wind hit her face; she slid down the inflatable slide. She clutched her seat cushion to her chest and braced for the impact of cold ocean water!

She hung in the air for a second, eyes clenched shut, and a thought occurred to her: there are no oceans between New York City and San Diego! She opened her eyes and looked down; she was in luck! There was a huge lake, directly below her!

Directly six miles below her.

Looking around, she could see her fellow passengers plunging to their imminent deaths, and she vaguely wondered whether any of them had struck the ground yet, or if they were all still falling. She looked up at the airplane and saw still more people leaping out the emergency exit, flying from one death sentence to the other. She wanted someone to blame --

And then she realized that it was all her fault, for marrying Paul in the first place.

THE END!