Fear of

Flying

MY PLACE FOR ENGLISH

Copyright © 2014 Rafael Alcolea Harold.

© FEAR of Flying

Published by My Place for English publishers.

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FEAR OF FLYING

111

I was waiting resigned in the queue to enter the plane. I started to

feel that terrible familiar oppression that always appeared when I was

about to embark on a new trip.

I hated having to fly due to work; I always tortured myself thinking

that I would end my days crashing with a plane making money for

others.

They sat in their comfortable leather armchairs, rubbing their hands

together each time I closed a new deal. It was no use travelling in first

class, although the parades of feasts and flattery had always come in

handy to distract me; a pillow over here, a blanket over there… But

now, because of the cuts, nearly all flights were economic class.

Anyway, I felt used.

I knew the flight wouldn‟t last more than an hour and a half, but that

didn‟t calm me down. I thought about the altitude, the wind, the state of

the pilots, each and every one of the thousands of factors that could

cause a fatality. The affable faces of the check-in staff didn‟t calm me

down at all. They would stay on the ground and would go to have

breakfast as soon as we had taken off.

“What jealousy!” I thought.

I looked at my ticket and discovered that my seat was 6F “not bad” I

thought. From my seat I could keep an eye on how the flight went by;

if the faces of the stewardesses changed due to turbulence, if a strange

passenger got up to go to the WC, I would control the crying babies that

wouldn‟t let me sleep even under the effects of sleeping pills; nothing

would escape my supervision.

As soon as I sat down, I checked the safety belt, went over the

emergency measures; one had to be prepared, just in case. I switched

off my mobile phone, and checked that the air conditioning vent was

working to perfection. I arranged the load of magazines for later: Marie

Claire, Vogue, Cosmopolitan, etc. I didn‟t really know why I kept

buying them when I seldom read them; I only browsed them; barely

paying attention to them. Since I had my tablet, I rarely stopped the

hammering of my fingers looking for information, looking over balance

sheets or reading my favourite author.

All passengers went by slowly. I wished that all those people would

finally take their seats, and that we would leave the airport as soon as

possible.

I was very restless. I remembered the short email that my boss had

sent: Tomorrow to New York, you have to seal a new deal with the

Orientals. Only you can do it, good luck precious. You know I’m

counting on you.

My mean boss knew I hated flying, and on top of that, the weather

forecast showed some signs of a storm during the journey. That‟s why

he hadn‟t even called me by phone. He was already enjoying his “well

earned” Christmas holidays; such a hypocritical man! He always

repeated that we had to lift the business between everyone, and that in

hard times we all had to work harder. But at this time of the year, with

two days before New Year‟s Eve, my boss was on holiday in his house

of the Reunion Island; according to him, it was always summer over

there.

It wasn‟t funny at all; I would freeze to death in snowy New York,

inflating his wallet so that he could pay for his cravings. That‟s how life

was, although I earned my salary well, I couldn‟t compare myself with

the owner of the multinational.

I felt passionate about my job and I nearly always I left with my

way. It was something that drove me crazy, especially when my victims

were distracted completely. Whenever they saw me coming, they

thought I was the typical stupid and plugged blonde that the big boss

sent as a last option. After fifteen minutes, they were sweating like pigs

and didn‟t know where to hide their fake reports and secret accounts; in

the end, they would confess, and I managed to get hold of their

company in less than two hours; having spare time to walk through the

Fifth Avenue and buy some whims. Although because of the weather, I

doubted I could do it this time.

But inside the plane everything was different. I didn‟t feel confident.

The security that overflowed on all four sides in an office, evaporated

until it consumed me. Then, I was reduced to a tiny and worse version

of me: nervous, frantic, angry and scared. Some people called it

aerophobia, I called it: a shitty luck!

The flight was full to the brim. I had already asked a stewardess in

check-in if she could leave the seat next to me empty. She looked at me

with a satisfied face and informed that the flight was full. It was clear

that this just wasn‟t my day, I was going to end the year the same way it

had started: in a crowded flight to the big apple.

Sat next to me was a couple that didn‟t stop cuddling and caressing

each other, and although I wasn‟t much older than them, I thought that

so much embracing was out of order; they were too old for that. I put

my headphones on and turned the volume up on my Ipad. I tried to

think of something other than the noise of the plane‟s engines

accelerating for taking off. Then, the documentary about Tibetan bowls

used to cure the spirit and the illnesses I had seen on the Discovery

Channel the night before while I tried to sleep came to my mind.

There was no going back, I really felt like getting up from my seat

and shouting at the stewardesses, telling them to stop the machine

immediately. Eventually, I succumbed to the inevitable, and I thought

about all the planes that would be taking off around the world in those

precise moments, and the rare probabilities that it would be my turn…

2

I remained immobile in my seat for over fifteen minutes. The

evening flight had left on time at six o‟clock in the morning; so nearly

everyone slept in their seats. I lifted to look at the hundreds of heads

that jostled slightly to the side to which the plane veered. Nearly all of

them were crouched their seats on the shoulders of their companions.

I couldn‟t see the moment in which the stewardesses passed giving

out breakfast, another excuse to distract my attention, and my panic of

flying.

I got up from my seat between grunts and hypocritical smiles of the

lovers; I needed to go to the bathroom; nerves had stopped me from

going to the toilet in the airport, and now, somewhat more relaxed I

started to notice a certain pressure in my bladder.

When I reached the bathroom, the placard was showing occupied, so

I had to wait. After a while, the youngest stewardess pointed out that it

was broken. The door didn‟t close properly, and I could get locked

inside. She suggested me going to the toilet at the tail of the plane. I

looked at the never-ending hallway of the Boeing, and I told the lady

about my panic of flying. I begged her to let me go in that one, even if I

would have to leave the door ajar so it would not close. She doubted for

an instant, and before she could answer me, I was already there.

The woman put a little bag with some plastic cutlery in the door that

now had an “out of order” sign, to avoid it closing and leaving me

locked inside.

I heard the hustle of breakfast on the adjacent wall, if I was lucky I

could get out before the woman appeared with the breakfast tray. When

I was about to leave, I remembered that apart from the claustrophobia of

the place, there was a tiny sink in which to wash my hands. I was

drying them when I heard the laughter of the stewardesses finishing

their coffee. Then, like a gust of wind I heard them pass pushing the

tray. Unfortunately for me, the narrowness of the path made the food

tray drag the fragile plastic cutlery that held the door with it. I heard the

light crunch, looked towards the door, and tried to extend my half wet

hand, even though I knew it was too late to hold it. The door closed.

Suddenly, a sensation of asphyxia seized me. I looked to one side

and another trying to find a window that could help me escape that

sensation of burden. I turned the door knob in all directions. I jostled it,

I shook the door with violence, I pushed it, I pulled it inwards and

outwards, but there was no way.

Nobody heard me outside; the festive moment of breakfast was on

board. I noticed that I was missing air, and that bit by bit everything

around me was going fuzzy, —Was I going to faint?—. Finally, I fell

sideways, the last thing I thought of, was the stewardess and I hoped

she would remember I was still there.

Thrown in a tiny washbasin at more than ten thousand metres of

height, without medical crew that could attend to me, silence

surrounded me. Then, everything went black.

3

I don‟t know how long I spent lying there, but I went walking up

slowly. The noise of the engines returned me to where I was. No, it

hadn‟t been a bad nightmare, I had fainted inside the bathroom of the

plane, and the worst thing was that the door of the toilet was still

blocked.

I had to get out of there, I got off the floor as I could, and started to

pound the door, and nobody came to rescue me. I stuck my ear to the

hateful door, nothing was heard.

Were they still sleeping? I looked at the watch and checked that

nearly an hour had passed since I‟d been closed in. It was twenty five

past seven, in forty minutes we would be landing in New York. But

before that I had to manage to get out of the toilet. After having checked

that nobody was coming to help me, I started to find something to open

the door with, it seemed like my mind went back to take reign over my

body, I put water on my forehead and nape. There was nothing that

could be of use to open the door. Everything was joined to the different

surfaces in such way that it couldn‟t be pulled off. I returned to the

traditional method: I got impulse and started to push the door with all

my strength. At first, the door didn‟t give way, but after, when I could

barely feel my shoulder, it started to wobble. It finally gave way. I fell

flat against the floor of the narrow hallway. I turned my face to both

sides, and checked that nobody was looking at me, they must have been

distracted with some film. I stood up , I put recomposed myself before

making my triumphal appearance before the passengers at the end, or

the little ones claiming attention of their parents. Nothing.

I slowly approached the corner that joined with the hallway, and that

led to the seating zone. I lent my hands against the wall, when a small

turbulence came over, the noise of small objects falling everywhere

with nobody bothering to pick them up startled me. Too many things

had fallen at the same time, but I couldn‟t hear their owners move to

pick them up. Something was wrong, I had a terrible feeling. I aimed

myself with courage and peeped over the corner. What I witnessed

froze my blood. The one hundred and seventy nine passengers were

sleeping or lying against their seats. I felt the adrenaline that rose

through my spine and landed on my brain, waiting for a logical answer

for the scene. Lots of them still had breakfast on their stowed tables on

the seat of the passenger in front. I directed my sight to the end of the

plane, and there were the stewardesses thrown against the immobile tray

that was just next to the door of the other toilet.

At first, I couldn‟t move, I thought I would die of shock; but shortly

after I took courage and approached to several passengers of the first

rows. I touched their immobile and cold bodies; none of them reacted

with my movements. I started to cry, tears were falling down as I

moved onwards. I didn‟t know what had happened. All the passengers

of the flight were dead, all except for me. I felt like I was going to go

dizzy again, when I confirmed that all of them were dead.

Then an idea knocked me down…

Who was piloting the aircraft?

I retraced my steps towards the cabin of the plane; I knew there was

a phone that communicated the passengers with the plane‟s cabin. I had

heard in countless occasions how the stewardesses flirted with the pilots

during the flights. I reached the door of the cabin, I was tempted to

pound it, but I didn‟t want to scare the pilots. Since the attacks of 11 S,

all flights relied on a communication system between the cabin and the

rest of the plane. I lifted the telephone, and pressed the red button.

Nobody answered my signal. But, then, I heard some commotion inside

the cabin. Something had moved, it sounded like something heavy had

fallen on the floor. I started to wonder whether I had done well in

calling them and manifesting my presence.

4

“Hello? Tell me, is anyone there?” asked a male voice. Happily, I

answer him immediately.

“Yes, hi! It‟s me, I mean, a passenger… You‟re not going to believe

this, it‟s very weird… I think all the passengers are dead!

“Sorry? Are you sure? Where are the stewardesses? Who are you?”

I suddenly understood the strange of the situation, the incredibility

of the situation that I was seeing; I had to speak calmly if I wanted the

pilot to understand me. I tried to explain my accident in the toilet. After

a pair of minutes explaining the situation, in the end, his face seemed to

understand it, and although it wasn‟t allowed, he asked me to move

away from the door so he could open the cabin. I stepped back and

heard that strange noise in the cabin again; something heavy was being

moved out of the way of the access of the door. Now that I thought

about it, the pilot seemed familiar to me, but I didn‟t know from where.

Suddenly, the door opened, and the first thing that caught my attention

was the age of the pilot, he seemed much younger than the middle aged

man that had greeted us a few hours before in the airport.

“Morning” he said with a clear foreign accent and a sinister voice.

“So, everyone is dead, right?

I couldn‟t understand why he didn‟t seem surprised, and seemed mor

interested in the fact that I was there, standing alive, next to him.

Before I could answer, a new turbulence left open part of the pilot‟s

cabin, what I saw made my heart stop: before my visual field, a bloody

hand appeared lifeless on the floor of the cabin. I looked terrified at the

stranger, who seemed to recognize the expression of terror; then, a

slight smile appeared on his face.

In that moment, I recognized him.

During the never-ending wait in queue for check-in, I always played

an idiotic and stupid game. I guessed which passenger had the most

suspicious look. That is, who I thought was the craziest, or the one that

would drink on board and screw up, basically, the one who could mess

up on board and alert the crew before taking off. I remembered

perfectly how that guy scared me. My grandmother had always told me

to listen to my intuition; we had a kind of sixth sense for people. But in

that precise instant I received an email from my boss on my mobile,

with the necessary documents attached for my meeting. When I looked

up again to study him, he wasn‟t there; he had passed through passports

control.

But… now, I had him right in front of me, and he didn‟t really seem

like he wanted to greet me. I quickly turned to star running, he had

killed everyone on the plane, even the pilots; I was his only witness,

and now he was coming for me. I had to hide but… “Where?”

Then , as I ran with terror towards the end of the plane, I checked

that everyone had unfinished drinks on their trays. I deduced then that

that man had poisoned all the passengers; he must have tipped some

type of poison in their coffees and drinks. I suddenly felt that something

grabbed my blouse with force. The buttons of the garment flew

everywhere. I could escape from my persecutor by chance, I got my

arm out of the tight sleeves of the shirt at one time, unfortunately, the

man fell back and was left perplexed on the floor with my blouse in his

hands. I quickly ran towards the washbasin at the end of the plane, half

naked, it was my only opportunity to escape.

I supposed that the toilet would have a security latch inside and that

it would be very hard to force open from the outside.

Scared, I ran for my life, I felt the warm breathing of the man as he

incorporated himself and followed me again; I tried not to look back,

but I couldn‟t help turning and seeing his eyes, like trying to make sure

that my life was in his hands and that he wasn‟t about to snatch it from

me. His look was though me, the anger of those inexpressive eyes only

radiated a thirst for death that nearly made me trip and fall in front of

him; in the last instant I jumped over one of the passengers‟ legs, that

lay lifeless hung over his companion.

Suddenly an idea overcame me, what would happen, if as I reached

the end of the hallway, the door of the bathroom was closed?

There was no other place where I could find refuge, I couldn‟t stop

to look for something on the way with which I could defend myself; I

knew that if I did, that guy would reach me and would be done with me

right there. I seemed to see something sharp hung from his hand;

without doubt it was some type of weapon. I had to play it all on one

card. My body was tense because of the adrenaline it had generated, I

knew I was on the death line; so I travelled the hallway of the plane at

such a speed, that I didn‟t even achieve in my best years of athletics at

college. When I finally reached the place where the bathroom was, the

body of the stewardess over the drinks tray partially blocked my way. I

would have to lean against her body if I wanted to overtake it, the idea

of touching a cold and rigid corpse, made me slip once I passed it, I fell

to the floor, and with barely any time to even touch the floor, I got up

again; I knew I had him on top of me, only a few seconds behind me. I

extended my arm to the door knot of the bathroom; then, I thought

“Where was the other stewardess” “What if she was inside the toiled?” I

grabbed the door knot with hope that it would open. Then, I turned it

and the door didn‟t open.

“Damn, I‟m going to die” I breathe resigned. I banged on the door,

since the green sign showed it was unoccupied, it indicated that I could

enter. I heard, then, how the man jumped over the drinks tray that I had

pushed to prevent him getting through; that provided me with a few

more seconds, and my brain started to work and find a solution; if the

toilet of the entrance of the plane opened towards the right, the one on

the tail, which was on the opposite side had to do it towards the right…

I turned my wrist with such force towards the opposite side, that I felt

the tendons held my wrist distend; the light and sharp pain didn‟t bother

me then, the door was opened.

I took a huge leap to the inside of the toilet, but while I distracted

myself looking for the lock and pushed the door to close it, the arm of

the assassin managed to get through the gap in the door.

I was lost. He was going to come in and kill me there, in that tiny

room. I wasn‟t as strong as a male adult. I didn‟t have anything against

him. As a consequence of that panic, which had made me immobile and

blocked other times, an enormous energy emerged that took my mouth

to his forearm. I opened my jaws with all my strength and squeezed my

teeth, knowing that my life depended on it. Through the door I heard a

strong howl of pain; my bite had worked, the assassin pulled back his

arm and I could close the door.

The sound of the lock as I closed the latch of the door made my body

relax, if only, for an instant.

Then, a continuous endless pushing and banging against the door of

the toilet started, that man was going to take the door down, and if he

continued like this for long he „d achieve it. He suddenly stopped. It

seemed like he was looking for something with which to open the door,

I was terrified, hidden between the tiny toilet and the wall.

“Sooner or later you‟re going to have to come out of there. Open the

door and everything will end soon” He assured me. Suddenly, his voice

was interrupted by a massive bang at the front of the plane, the pilot‟s

cabin had closed.

5

The plane started to descend quickly, hundreds of things started to

fall over the plane. One of those abrupt movements of the aircraft made

me hit against the wall of the washbasin, I heard how the man shouted

rushing towards the front of the aircraft. The plane continued to descend

at great speed, I felt like my hearing was going to burst, the pressure

was too strong. That guy had fallen rolling around the plane, the cabin

was closed and the plane fell sharply. We were going to die.

I prayed and begged for my life. I closed my eyes waiting for the

collision with the ground in any instant. I thought of how unfair and

short life was, tomorrow we would be one more news headline, in a

world insensitive to misfortunes. Then, everything faded. I was sure I

wouldn‟t wake up again, after all, I was going to die; wandering in a

dark and immaterial state in which my thoughts would be forever, at

least that was as I saw the death.

Bit by bit I started to feel like I could move, I put my hand to my

face and started to feel it. It was cold, but alive. I tried to get up, but my

whole body hurt, and I couldn‟t move. My body wasn‟t responding. I

paid attention to the sounds around me, then some energetic steps

approached the toilet.

Knock, knock Someone was knocking on the door. I stayed quiet out

of fear and because I wasn‟t able to articulate any words.

“Hello! Is anyone there? We know there‟s someone in there. Are you

feeling Okay?”

I still kept quiet, I didn‟t know who was talking and that voice was

unknown… I didn‟t know if I was still flying or I if I fainted and

everything was a hallucination, a bad dream while I was unconscious.

Then, some more steps approached the door.

“Open the door, please! We want to help you. We‟re the police” That

voice inspired me with confidence, so I decided to talk to them.

“I‟m here, please help me, he was trying to kill me…” I babbled

sobbing.

“Don‟t worry! we‟re going to get you out of there. You‟re safe now,

you‟ve landed, we know what you‟ve been through, he explained

everything to us.

My pulse stopped when I thought of that man being alive, he could

be waiting for me, next to the police. I knew I was his only witness. He

would be waiting for me to be done with me. I begged the police not to

leave me alone, I didn‟t want to see him again.

Finally, after a while, the door opened. It took a call to the

firefighters to unblock the door. The clarity that came from the outside

blinded me momentarily. The loving faces of firefighters welcomed me

and helped me to get out, a stretcher with a sanitary crew waited for me

in the hallway. Most of the bodies had been taken away; as I was

advancing through the seats of the plane, I couldn‟t believe that the

plane landed. That assassin had been able to get back to the cabin, open

it and land the plane. As it seems, instead of running off and escaping,

he must have decided to be the hero in the story, I was the only one who

knew the truth. I feared seeing him again in any instant, I was sure that

at any opportunity he‟d finish me off. I had to escape, but how?

Then, I saw him, there, next to me, immobile, I the front seats

blocking the exit. I couldn‟t believe it; what would be the next thing?

The sanitary crew surrounded that man‟s dead body, making the

stretcher pass over his body. It seemed like he had fatally banged his

cranium during the abrupt descend to land. But then… Who had landed

the aircraft? That was crazy.

When we got down to the track, on the way to the ambulance, some

men addressed me.

“Excuse me, miss, this gentleman wanted to talk to you, he his the

copilot of the plane, commander Fitzgerald”

“I hope you get well soon” said the copilot. “Don‟t worry, you don‟t

need to say anything, I‟ve already explained everything to the

authorities. I don‟t know where you came from, but I thought I was the

only survivor. Thanks God that you helped me to take him out the

pilot‟s cabin. That damned crazy guy, poisoned everyone on the plane.

He added something to the drinks and coffees of breakfast. Luckily, I

didn‟t have any liquids during the flight. As I discovered that everybody

was feeling bad, and that I was the only one that seemed to move about

the cabin without any bad symptoms it made me think that it was all

planned and it wasn‟t just indigestion. The pilot started to feel bad and

put on autopilot before fainting he opened the door to that mad guy who

said to be a doctor and could help him. Once I saw him, I realized he

was not helpful, so I made him believe that I was another victim of his

plan. Little by little I threw myself to the floor and pretended to be

dead.”

I could not say anything; I could not believe that we were alive.

“After a while, he ran out when he heard you come out of the toilet,

that was my opportunity to close the cabin and proceed to emergency

protocol and asked to land the plane in the first available airport.

Luckily, the hard descent finished him off, it seems like he broke his

neck with the fall; I only hoped you were okay, after all, you saved me.

Thanks!

“Don‟t worry you did the same for me.”

The sanity crew hurried to take me to the ambulance, the wound on

my leg didn‟t look good; but it didn‟t look dangerous. I was sure that as

soon as I got discharged, I would leave work, I wasn‟t to fly again. I

was thinking of passing a long period of time resting from that frantic

life that hadn‟t got me anywhere.

Next morning, While I was waiting for a taxi to take me to my

parents‟ , the telephone rang without end; I wasn‟t going to picked it up

but that sound was killing me. After five minutes of talking, I repeated

to the woman on the other end of the line that I wasn‟t interested in

going on the television programme on channel 11 to give an interview

with the hero that saved me from that crazy murderer. I wanted to turn

over a new leaf as soon as possible, so I wasn‟t going to feed the media

by talking about the panic and extreme experience I had lived.

I got in the taxi and gave the address to the driver. On the seat next

to me I found a screwed up newspaper of the day; I quickly recognized

my silhouette on the front page, I unfolded the paper, and there I was on

the first page. I looked at the taxi driver and his wide smile indicated

that he had already recognized me. I started to read the news without

noticing my companion in the photo, when I looked at the picture again

I was shocked: next to me, with his protective arm over my shoulder

was the crazy man that had killed those people. He was dressed in the

pilot‟s uniform, but how had he tricked me?

I was sure he had lain dead on the floor of the plane, and that it was

the other man who was talking to me. I closed my eyes, as I opened

them again, I felt like I was going crazy; that guy next to me in the

photo had changed his appearance while he spoke to me, I was sure.

But, how? Was he a shapeshifter?

I thought of calling the police, but when I looked up, we had already

arrived to my destination. I paid the taxi and I ran up to my parents‟

house; but when I was putting back my change in my purse, a paper

appeared between the notes and money. I opened it, thinking that it was

a receipt from the taxi driver.

“Don‟t look for an explanation. You are not crazy. Soon you will

forget my face, soon you won‟t know who I am, as everybody does. I‟m

just telling you that I‟m not the only one and that there are more waiting

their moment”

I turned quickly towards the taxi, I saw a hand saying goodbye from

the window, leaving. A shiver ran through my body. That was the

strangest thing I had lived in my life, I only wanted to get home with

my parents and forget everything.

About the author

Rafael Alcolea Harold is an English teacher at a Secondary

Education High school in the south of Spain. His father lived half of his

life in Australia so he was in touch with English since a baby.

He has written other novels in Spanish such as: Legado infinito (

Eternal Legacy),Sparks, El Poder del Dragón (Sparks, the power of the

dragon) and Hechizo de Sangre (Spell of Blood) all of them available in

www.amazon.com

And short stories in English for a collection of English readers:

-The Next Victim.

-We thought we were asleep.

-Fear of Flying.

You can find these stories at Amazon and www.bubok.es

Contact: abanicodelibros@hotmail.com

Twitter: @RafaelAlcolea

www.myplaceforenglish.blogspot.com.es