Chapter Text
As you stood amongst your colleagues in the early morning air, dread pooled in your stomach, a dread which you’d been trying to squash and which had nurtured itself nonetheless ever since Bradley had given you those despised instructions. “If you’re going to be Donavan’s assistant in his new position,” he’d stated, “you need to come to Bangkok with us. Help us talk this out. Show me what you’re capable of.”
You were more than confident in your abilities to act as an executive assistant—Donovan was honestly incompetent enough that he’d need your help. You were not quite as confident in your ability to go for a flight without being ill. And so you were here, mentally trying to hype yourself up for a flight that would last no less than sixteen hours.
Suddenly, Bradley looked over your shoulder, a sneer overcoming his expression. “Oh, fuck me.” You turned to see the target. Towards the group of them strode… Linda Liddle? Was she supposed to be coming on the trip, too?
“Who’s ready and raring to fly high?” She cheerily questioned. “It’s me! I am!”
An awkward silence descended over the group. You waved back, as no one else seemed intent on responding to her. Not that it was so surprising; you knew that happened fairly often. It led to a balance of your sympathy and your feeling slightly fortunate that your social position in the office was at least a little more elevated than hers.
“Hi!” She latched onto this acknowledgement and greeted you then by name, voice chipper. Far too chipper for the situation at hand, in fact. Had she somehow managed to forget the fact that they were all about to be thousands of feet in the air? Of course, she always did have a reputation for her lack of awareness and boundless optimism. Or maybe she was a normal person and simply didn’t have an oppressive fear of flying.
“Hello, Linda,” you answered, a tension in your voice that you couldn’t quite squash. She frowned, which felt a little humiliating. If even the most socially oblivious person in the office can read me right now, I need to learn to put on a better front.
“Are you okay? You seem a little… off,” she suggested politely.
“I just don’t do great with flying,” you answered, voice low enough to keep this a private matter–or so you thought. But a snicker echoed through the group nearby the two of you anyway.
“I told you we shouldn’t have brought the two of them,” one of the men muttered. Hot indignation flushed your face. They always talk about you as if you weren’t right there.
She glanced over at them, and her expression faltered for a moment, although it was quickly replaced by a smile again.
“Nothing is going to happen,” she said. “Airplane accidents are a lot rarer than car accidents, but I know you take a car to work every day.”
That didn’t help your fear. You weren’t afraid because it was rational. You were just afraid. There was no more to it. Regardless, it was kind of her to try to help. You returned a hesitant smile as everyone began to board.
As soon as you were on board, you made a beeline for the back. If nothing else, it would get the men slightly out of your hair, right?
Wrong. Right as you set your carry-on bag down and settled into your seat, the thwap of a life jacket hit your chest. “For when this thing goes down, since you’re so terrified.” Bradley cackled first, which was as obnoxious as it always was, and then his clique of nepo babies joined in. The flight attendant gave him an annoyed glance before polishing her expression once more, no doubt miffed by his displacement of a device she’d have to replace later. Your patience thinned a little. Every once in a while, you really did have to evaluate if the paycheck was worth the nightmare of dealing with them. Things had been so much more peaceful only a few months ago when Mr. Preston–the Mr. Preston you knew, anyway–had been in charge. You tucked the life jacket beside you. You could replace it after you landed, but you didn’t want to walk past him more than necessarily needed.
Linda settled into the seat across the aisle from you. That was sure not to help your case as far as the ridicule from the men went. Still, if you had to be next to anyone, she was your preferred option, you supposed. She settled down with a laptop. You had your own problems to worry about.
The flight attendant asked everyone to remain seated during takeoff, and as the plane began to pick up speed, it seemed to rumble slightly. Its wheels parted from the ground. You glanced around the plane, trying to find the source of the odd sound, feeling more than a little unnerved. Her eyes flickered to you, and concern colored her features.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” you confessed. “It feels like–is this takeoff really shaky? Am I imagining that?”
“It is shaky,” she responded, “but flights are always a little shaky. There is nothing to be afraid of.”
Your silence evidently didn’t convince her. “When an aircraft shakes when it’s in the sky, or when there’s turbulence, there’s pressure from every side working against it, not just downward pressure.” You nodded as she continued. “So it’s not like the plane is just waiting to drop out of the sky. There’s just as much air pressure working to keep us afloat as there is gravity doing the opposite.”
When River had first trained you and introduced you to the woman across her cubicle, she had always referred to Linda as weird, awkward, strange. Other coworkers echoed this sentiment quite frequently throughout the eight months since you’d come to work here. What they had also mentioned, however, was that Linda was extraordinarily intelligent–at least with facts, if not people. So a part of you earnestly trusted her.
“Thank you,” you quietly responded. “It really does help.” At least a bit. You no longer felt ninety percent certain that you would be dying today.
“Of course.”
After a few minutes, the plane reached a stable altitude. It did not seem, at least for the time being, intent on exploding. You turned then to a book which you’d stowed away on the back of your seat, and for a few hours, it consumed you. You were able to tune out your thoughts and immerse yourself in the story. You’d always been good at that, after all.
Eventually, a sound jolted you out of focus. Laughter, too much of it, and horribly loud. Bradley and all of his crowd were all so irritating. You turned to Linda, intent on seeing if she knew what they found so funny-
Tears in her eyes? Why was she crying? What was wrong?
Wait, that was absolutely her voice on whatever they were crowding around a laptop to watch. Were they making fun of her somehow? People always did this in this office—the woman was sweet! Okay, sure, she was a little socially inept, but she wouldn’t hurt a fly. This wasn’t high school. How immature were they planning to be?
You watched her shut the laptop, and you spoke to her from across the aisle. “Linda, are you okay?”
She quickly attempted to compose herself. “It’s no—yeah, it’s nothing, l just-“
An announcement sounded off over the intercom requesting that everyone put on their seatbelts.
The color drained from your face. You were well in the middle of the flight. For what reason could you possibly need seatbelts? Of course, you immediately buckled in—although your hands were unsteady doing so—and you heard as Linda did, too. You turned to her with a slightly worried look, and she returned a smile even shakier than the one you’d directed towards her earlier.
“Yeah, gentlemen, put your seatbelts on… if you’re a fucking pussy,” Bradley cackled from the front of the plane. Of course, everyone else laughed-
A scream–God, what was happening?--the plane lurched downward.
Bradley looked up with wide eyes, immediately lunging forward to reach for the lifejacket that he’d tossed your way–but the plane tipped further, and the pressure imbalance seemed to have formed a vortex which pulled him out of a rapidly widening hole which burst the side of the plane. Horrifyingly, multiple people followed suit, mercilessly tossed out into whatever lay outside. You wrapped the life jacket around yourself, buckling it–what would that even do? What could you even do?? Everyone who hadn’t already been seated scrambled.
Donovan had been launched into the air, too, but he had grabbed onto Linda’s legs as Chase grabbed onto his. “Don’t let go!” Someone screamed. She tried to help him, reaching down for his arms, but he latched onto her body instead. Donovan kicked Chase until he fell away, another victim of the vaccuum.
You watched with horror as Donovan grasped Linda by the neck as carelessly as if he were handling a pest animal. “Give me your seat! Give me your seat!”
There was no way that man, any man, had the gall to lay a hand on another person like that. Silverware began to clamber its way down the aisle. Spoons, a fork—a knife! You grabbed it and launched it full force, lodging it in his upper arm. With a shriek, he dislodged from Linda, and immediately he was sucked out of the plane just where Bradley had been pulled moments earlier. “Are you okay?” She gasped for breath and nodded.
But moments later, to your horror, his body began colliding with the side of the plane, seemingly held in place by his tie. “Linda! Do something!” He screamed. You screamed, too. Linda… slid the window cover shut. Well, that was effective, you supposed–good lord, the plane was splitting! Your life jacket was still on. You were still buckled in. Small mercies.
You didn’t remember much of what happened then.
Water rushing in every direction–flights of bubbles–a mangled corpse–a dreadful keeling sound–floating upwards–an object colliding with the side of your head–the world faded to black.