Tales from the Flashback: "Raptors on a Plane" E-Book

Wayne Kyle Spitzer

• Herausgeber: Wayne Kyle Spitzer
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

There were three of them, their clawed hands and snouts covered in blood, only one of which had the strange comb of feathers that resembled a mohawk, and it was at precisely that instant that this one raised its head and apprehended her, its oil slick-colored crest rising and falling, its white eyes blinking—before it barked at the others as though issuing orders and rushed toward her, at which instant she climbed to her feet and swatted open the curtain to business class, and was about to sprint forward into first class when she realized there was a door directly next to her—a restroom!—and grabbed hold of its latch, which was locked. She pounded upon the door with her left fist even as she brought the revolver up with her right, and was about to squeeze off a shot at Mohawk’s snout, which had just appeared around the edge of the curtain, when the door suddenly opened and someone pulled her in—someone who quickly shut the hatch and locked it. And then she was breathing heavily, trying to slow her heartrate which had raced out of control, as the raptors clawed at the door and gnashed their teeth, and a man in a pilot’s uniform placed his palm over her trembling gun hand and lowered the pistol slowly. Then everything just broke inside her and the tears started flowing, as she threw her arms around him and sobbed almost violently, all the while thinking how good it was, how very, very good, to no longer be alone.

Leseprobe

Tales from the Flashback:

“Raptors on a Plane”

by

Wayne Kyle Spitzer

Copyright © 2018 Wayne Kyle Spitzer. All Rights Reserved. Published by Hobb’s End Books, a division of ACME Sprockets & Visions. Cover design Copyright © 2018 Wayne Kyle Spitzer. Please direct all inquiries to: [email protected]

Based upon “Flashback,” first published by Books in Motion/Classic Ventures, 1993. Reprinted by Hobb’s End Books, 2017.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

***

IF SAMANTHA HADN’T known better, she would have sworn she’d seen a bat—a big one, a very, very big one—by the 777’s flashing wing lights. Of course, when she blinked it was gone, and not into the inky dark outside the window, she was sure, but back into her own mind, which was still half-asleep and probably hung over with Ambien. What she did see, and knew she saw, were a series of strange lights, like lightning amongst the clouds—except there was lightning amongst the clouds, they were passing through a storm, and these lights weren’t that. No, these were something otherworldly, which shown with colors she could not quite define, and she would have studied them further, even snapped a pic with her cellphone, had she not suddenly realized that the elderly couple next to her were no longer in their seats, nor, for that matter, were the people in the middle row, or the row beyond that.

Her pulse quickened, and she sat up with start.

No one was in their seats, not in the entire rear cabin—at least no one tall enough, or fat enough, to be visible beyond the head and armrests. Wait, no, she could see that wasn’t true, there was someone, she could just make out their arm on the rest in the front-most seats before the next economy class section. She noticed the “fasten seat belts” pictograph was illuminated and thought, To hell with that, then got up and began walking down the darkened aisle, finding it odd that all the TVs were stuck on static. Nor was that all that was odd, for a good portion of the seats contained items that normally wouldn’t be left unattended, purses and cellphones, laptops, iPads. Lightning flashed outside the windows as she approached the man in the seat and thunder boomed over the drone of the engines.

“Excuse me, sir, but—”

And then the airliner rocked suddenly and so did the arm on the chair rest, rolling back and forth once before it fell off completely and landed on the floor, dotting the blue carpet with blood.

––––––––

TWELVE MINUTES. IT had been twelve minutes, according to her watch, since the arm had fallen on the floor, after which she’d collapsed into the nearest chair and just sat—her head spinning, her heart pounding. Okay, she thought at last, here’s your options: One. You are still sleeping and are experiencing a nightmare. Two. You’ve gone completely insane. Or, three ...

It was really happening.

And if that were the case, there weren’t many scenarios that could explain it, other than that terrorists had slaughtered everyone on board and piled their bodies in first class—a possibility she found dubious at best.