Sinners and Saints

Sinners and Saints Chapter 24 - Get the Ball Rolling

I roll off whatever Drake is playing at and assess the situation in the cabin.  The pilots look stable but are still unconscious.  I tap the nearest soldier and ask him to take one into the cockpit. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” he responds without question.  Wordlessly he follows me and lays the man down behind the seats. 

“The other one too?” he asks. 

“Please,” I nod and he is just as gentle with the copilot. 

“Anything else, ma’am?” he asks. 

“Just have a seat, Corporal,” I smile and put him in the first seat.  He’s six-four with long legs.  He’ll appreciate the leg-room.  I rub his shoulder briefly and let my power surge into him. 

It’s the same promise I made Butch.  This will be a happy dream where names and faces are forgotten, but the memory will keep the PTSD away. 

And I move on to the rest of the soldiers, modifying their memories and seating them in the first two rows.  The last one is the Captain.  He’s a little harder to modify, but when I read him, I feel how much respect he has for everything I’ve done. 

I keep the curtains up for now.  There is no way that I can touch everyone on the plane without raising suspicion.  I can’t change into a flight-attendant like a bi. 

But I can take care of the flight attendants.  They’re still clustered together, and I hit Serge first, then the rest of them. 

By the time I’m done, they’re like Stepford Wives – well, even more like them, I guess. 

I hear voices when I approach the cockpit again.  Sounds like Drake’s back from the deep baritone growl coming through. 

I hesitate before knocking.  I can’t hear any words, but Butch’s tenor is soft and low and trying to soothe him.  I hear Drake’s growl and more soothing from Butch. 

That man is a saint – far more than I am.  Saint Butch – I chuckle to myself. 

I’m so close to home right now – even for thirty minutes – that I think about texting Jamie.  And Jojo.  And Jill. 

But it’s three in the morning and Jojo is asleep and Jamie and Jill are either asleep or working.  And I only have half an hour to cover three terminals and make my flight. 

“Damn it,” I sigh and knock on the door.  It’s light, but Butch has answered when I knocked that way before.  Now, the voices drop but there’s no answer. 

“Whatever,” I sigh and go to check on the imp.  He’s still out and secured in the bathroom.  The soldiers are still dreaming.  The attendants are picking up last trash like everything is normal. 

I should have had them pass the lie along to the other passengers – if I knew how to do that, that is. 

I walk back up to the cockpit and knock loudly.  A few seconds later, the door unlocks. 

Both of the men are tight-lipped and staring straight ahead. 

“Six-six-six-nine,” the tower calls in, “Lower to fifteen thousand and decrease to twenty knots.  Income at north by northeast to runway fifteen.  ETA is two minutes.” 

“Roger, tower,” Rick’s cheery, confident tone comes over the phone, “Six-six-six-nine out.” 

You still need me here?” I ask, hovering behind the pilot’s chair, “Or are you two all good?” 

Butch glances back at Drake and then shrugs, “I need him to make announcements.  I guess he could handle the rest if you like.” 

I don’t like.  I don’t like at all.