CHAPTER 2-3
1471 Words
Her eyes snapped open in a tunnel of spinning lights. Blue-and-black bands strafed the passenger cabin. Vertigo swept over her as the plane slid upward into what felt like an unseen maw. A wave of gasps and cries rippled from the front of the plane. Something tussled around up there; Mara could sense movement and feel thumps in the floor.
“Please remain seated with your seat belts fastened. The plane is still ascending. The seat belt sign is still on. Please remain seated.” False composure from the flight attendant.
The plane dropped into a pocket of calm air, lifting people above their seats as far as their seat belts would allow. Passengers gasped in unison. Some cried out. Others flailed, looking around for help.
Panic took flight.
Mara leaned into the aisle for a better look. There was nothing to see but silhouettes of heads and shoulders also stretching for a better view. She leaned forward to look above the headrest in front of her, but gravity and the slope of the climbing plane pulled her back. Giving in, she fell deeper into her seat.
A scream sliced through the cabin. Distinct from the spreading sounds of hysteria, it was less primal. More hate or anger than fear.
Mara unhooked her seat belt and stood up, too fast. The unnatural angle of the ascent, the pitching and yawing of the plane, and the gyrating blue-black strobes disoriented her. The vertigo was worse up here. Her stomach dropped. Her mouth went dry; her brow grew damp. Despite the pounding at her temple, she tried to stay detached, observant, her mind-set whenever she had a technical issue to resolve.
She could not get her bearings and found it difficult to focus on one point. The spinning light passed through passengers and seats, creating a living, moving X-ray, transforming everything to transparent shadows. Mara could see through everything and everyone. The source, whatever it was, alternately emitted bursts of blue-and-black light intensifying the strobing effect.
Trying to focus, she widened her eyes.
She saw double.
Two of everything and everyone overlapped. One version darker, more opaque. The other, more transparent, slightly misaligned, out of sync. Everything still strafed by, light and dark, blue and black.
She held out her hand to steady herself and froze. Wiggling the fingers of her right hand in front of her face, she could see only one hand. She looked down. There were two Sarahs and two Jeremys next to her empty seat, but she saw only one hand.
There was two of everything on the plane, except her.
“Unreal,” she said. She waved at her seatmates. “Can you see me?”
One of the Sarahs leaned over to wrap an arm around her grandson.
“Of course, dear,” Sarah said. “Please have a seat.”
The transparent version of everything wheeled farther out of sync, sliding apart from the darker reality, deviating more, rotating on a different axis. Mara teetered over the aisle, turned toward the front of the plane, trying to get her balance.
Streaks of light washed through the man sitting across the aisle. Blue-and-black flashes revealed two versions of him. The darker one was normal. The other had scales, gill slits opening and closing on his neck, breathing like a reptile. His features alternated—man, reptile; man, reptile—keeping the beat of the blue-black strobes careening through the cabin.
His head twitched toward Mara. She froze.
Blue irises turned to yellow then disappeared behind lids that slid from the corners of his eyes. A long split tongue flicked at her.
She gagged and grabbed for the headrest in front of her. Her hand passed through it, and she fell into the aisle, closer to the lizard man. She landed facing the front of the plane where she saw blue flashing feet running toward her head. Desperate to get out of the way and to put space between her and the creature across the aisle, she grabbed a hand rest and pulled herself up into her seat. She took a deep breath, hazarded a look across the aisle.
Blankly the man stared back. No scales, no gills and thankfully no yellow eyes.
Running down the transparent version of the aisle—at a tangent from the solid one—a transparent teenage boy, with mussed red hair and a flushed face, staggered, bouncing side to side, holding onto seatbacks to offset the incline of the plane.
Passengers—some intermittently with horns, fangs, snouts and fur—leaned away from him as he lunged toward the back of the plane.
He looked terrified, running for his life. As he approached, he locked eyes with Mara. His widened, and nothing yanked him off his feet.
Something pulled the boy from the back. Mara just could not see it.
He landed on his butt in the middle of the aisle three feet from her. Sitting on the floor with his legs in front of him and his back to the front of the plane, he slid backward, up the aisle against the incline of the still-climbing plane. Something unseen pulled the waist of his pants. Even though Mara could see through him, she could not see what had a hold of him.
In his right hand, he clutched what looked like a swirling ball of blue mercury emitting bursts of light throughout the passenger cabin.
After being dragged four rows, he grabbed a seat leg with his left hand. The pulling at his waist stopped. He sighed and relaxed. After a minute, the pulling started again, this time at his shirt collar. He rolled onto his side and the front of his shirt bunched up at his throat, constricting his breathing. He gagged as his face reddened.
Mara took a few steps toward him, taking care not to touch any of the creatures that appeared and disappeared in the flashes of light. When she got close enough, she squinted into the light and said, “Are you okay?”
Through gritted teeth the boy said, “Do I look okay to you?” His grip was slipping. “Don’t just stand there. Help me!”
Mara assessed the situation and said, “Stop fighting it. Let go of the seat and lift your arms.”
He flung his arms above his head as if surrendering.
The shirt slid over his head and flew down the aisle, into the ongoing commotion in the forward cabin. As he stood up, he held out the glowing ball and shook it. Light spun more violently; images careened farther out of sync.
“Come on, come on,” he said to the light. “Get me outta here!”
He solidified.
“Hey, I can’t see through you anymore.” Mara tapped him on the shoulder, checking his concreteness. He looked to be about fourteen years old. She looked around. No more double vision. Everything had realigned.
“Uh-oh, I’m running out of plane,” he said, ignoring Mara, looking up and down the aisle. He shoved her into her row and bolted past to the back of the plane.
“Hey!” She went after him. “What’s going on?”
Making her way to the rear of the plane, she heard footsteps pounding behind her, someone following her.
“Please take your seat. Please step out of the aisle.”
Finally a flight attendant.
A scream, almost in her ear. “Give it back, or I swear I will kill you.”
The boy stopped. He stood next to the restroom, his shoulders pressed to the wall. Tensed, he looked past Mara.
“I’m not giving it back,” he said, tears in his eyes. He pressed his lips together to keep them from trembling.
Mara turned around.
And saw herself.
No double vision. This Mara was just as solid as, well, Mara. But different. Same brown hair, slightly different cut. Same green eyes, but with eyeliner and eye shadow. The duplicate wore a nicely fitted maroon leather jacket over a silk shirt and a tight pencil skirt, none of which this Mara would be caught dead in. Not exactly gadget-monkey attire.
“You’re in my way,” the duplicate said.
Mara gaped at her double. It took a little turbulence to draw her out of her bewildered silence. “Who are you?”
“I don’t have time for this,” the duplicate said, looking past her. “Sam, just give it back. This is your last chance.”
“You want that light he has, don’t you?” Mara asked.
“Mind your own business,” the duplicate said. “Step out of the way or you might get hurt.” She made no move to get physical.
“Is that a threat?”
“I don’t make threats,” she said, pointing at Mara and swinging her arm to the left toward the emergency exit door.
Mara was flung into the air, following the path of her counterpart’s arm, striking the door with her head and crumpling to the ground.
The duplicate stepped to the back of the plane. The boy crouched on the floor, curling his body around the blue light and said, “No.”
She grabbed a handful of hair, bent back his head and through clenched teeth said, “This is your last chance.” She pried his fingers from the ball of light and pulled it away. He looked up, saw Mara approaching from behind, and his entire body stiffened.
“No! Don’t touch her!” he yelled as Mara grabbed her duplicate’s shoulders.
Everything exploded into crystal shards of brilliant blue that cascaded into darkness...and silence.
- Writer
