Sounds Like Obsession (Sounds Like 1)

The captain announced we were next for takeoff. I closed my eyes this time, pretending the rain didn’t exist. That we weren’t about to fly into low hanging rain clouds. I nestled my podcast equipment between my ankles as we ascended at a steep angle. I didn’t want the mic rattling inside.

We began to level off and I opened my eyes. The rain was gone. It was sunny and clear at this altitude. I closed the shade over the window.

“Champagne?”

“Hmm?” I turned toward the aisle.

It wasn’t Jeff C. A flight attendant with deep red hair, almost purple. I’d never seen hair that color before. It looked like something she blended from a bottle.

“Would you like some champagne? Or we have a variety of wine, beer, and cocktails,” she offered. “I can mix anything you like. I bartend two nights a week in Nashville.” Her nametag read Cindy L.

“Oh. That’s great.” I was too nervous to drink. My heart rate still hadn’t settled from the sprint through the terminal. “No thank you. I’ll just take water, please.”

She looked puzzled, but handed me a glass bottle. I heard the passengers ordering around me. Free alcohol in first class was the standard. Why pay all this money to sit in a plush seat and order water? I didn’t care. I needed to think clearly for the remainder of the trip home. Ninety minutes and we’d be in D.C.

“Thank y—” I began to pour it into a crystal pilsner she handed me alongside the water.

Cindy L’s eyes jerked away.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back to offer you something else,” she spoke over her shoulder.

She kicked the pedal on the cart and reversed direction. I strained to look through the crack in the seats in front of me.

The flight attendants were huddled together near the coffee station. No one re-stocked the cart or mixed drinks. Whatever it was, they were locked in something serious. Something grave. I couldn’t hear them. But I could read their lips. At least I thought I could.

Was there a problem with the plane?

I pressed into the arm rests, leaning forward. I strained to make out what they were saying. No. I must have read that wrong. We had only been in the air twenty minutes. We had flown through the storm with barely any turbulence.

But I saw the concern in their eyes. I saw the way they kept checking the cockpit door. Their sudden nervous ticks. Tugging on their aprons. Pulling their ears. Wiping worry off their foreheads. One attendant pulled her bottom lip under her teeth so many times her lip was already raw.

I looked across the aisle. The couple on the other side was watching a movie. They wore earbuds. Neither had noticed the flight attendants. I looked behind me. The curtain that separated first class from business was drawn and Velcroed together. The row behind me wasn’t any different. A slightly balding man read on his tablet, while the woman next to him had pulled a sleep mask over her eyes. It didn’t seem as if they were traveling together. They were twisted in opposite directions so they didn’t touch. No one bothered to glance up.

I unbuckled and slid into the open seat next to me. My stomach already burned. How was I the only one seeing this? It was like being in the part of a dream when things blur past. I was somehow conscious and the other passengers weren’t.

I turned my attention to the galley.

A chill crept up my neck as I watched in horror as the flight crew, huddled together, reached for each other’s hands, and closed their eyes. I’d never seen fear like that before. My skin prickled with it. It was only a quick couple of seconds before they stepped out of the circle.

My God. What was going to happen to this plane?

Chapter Five

I didn’t know how long the flight attendants would wring their hands and readjust their hair before they made an announcement. I got it. They had to be composed. They needed to stay calm. And I could grant them a few minutes to gain control of their own fear, but holy hell, they had to say something. One of the pilots had to say something. Someone had to do something. Warn the passengers. Prepare us. Explain what the hell was happening. There was clearly a problem with the flight. Why was I the only one who noticed?

I unbuckled my seat belt, suddenly feeling unsafe without it. I let the strap fall to the side and rose slowly. I started toward the galley, not taking my eyes off Cindy or Jeff. There was a restroom on the other side of where they had gathered.

They stopped talking as soon as I approached. I pointed to the restroom.

“Ladies’ room,” I explained.

They nodded, dismissing my presence and I quickly opened the door and locked myself inside. I pressed my ear to the door. Despite the low-rumble from the jet, I could hear words. Fragments of sentences.

“—circle for how long—hours—”

“—knows the threat—FBI—”

There was a threat on the plane? Did the FBI know or did they need to contact the FBI? Was it a person? Was it a weapon?