His back turned to Alain Dupont, Michel Madison seemed to speak to a crowd as his previously unintelligible words became clearer. No doubt Dupont was back on the plane, and that suited him fine. He would rather be there than relive the fear he felt a few seconds earlier in the ravine. It was overwhelming. Here, at least, he still had a slim chance of making it out alive.
Looking up, he noticed his wrists were still attached to the ceiling of the aircraft. He also realized that his shoulders had dislocated because of the weight of his body pulling him to the ground, but he still felt no pain. Madison’s terrifying face turned to him, and realizing that Alain had regained consciousness, he broke out into his evil grin, his sharp, vile teeth, and turned in the opposite direction.
“Ladies and
