I headed back to my seat, my footsteps so soft that I almost couldn’t hear them. I clicked any button I could see in the darkness to see if I could recline the chair, but nothing happened. I sighed and sat down, shifting positions trying to get comfortable. I was on the verge of sleep, and that’s when the plane shifted. It felt like we were banking, turning hard to the left; that would take us too far south. I slid my phone out of my pocket and quickly connected it to the onboard Wi-Fi. Opening the trip tracker application, my worst fear was realized: the plane was heading straight South, not West like it was supposed to.

We were no longer going to New York. Did the pilot know this? Was it possible that something had happened to him? I knew full well that people were not supposed to bother pilots of aircraft, but I had a bad feeling that whoever was flying the plane was not a pilot, so what was the harm? If he did need help, then it might be a good idea since I was the only one awake. I shuffled my small feet toward the front of the plane. I ventured into the small hallway that led toward the kitchen, and cockpit of the small aircraft. The already small corridor felt tighter as the walls blocked out the twinkles from the lights along the floor.

“Hello?” I called as I finally reached the wooden door to the cockpit. I waited a moment before knocking, hoping that the pilot of the plane would hear me and open the door. I didn’t want to have to force my way in; God forbid I would damage something that I could never pay to replace.

“No,” I heard a deep voice state through the door. “I’ll have no part of that.” It was clear that the voice wasn’t talking to me. He hadn’t heard me, and I didn’t breathe another word for a few minutes, hoping to figure out what was going on. “I’ll crash the plane before I take any more orders from you.” As those words registered to my brain, I felt my breath catch in my throat, and I felt as if I couldn’t move. My biggest fear, drowning, could be immanent now.

Someone on the other end of the conversation, the one that I could not hear, must’ve tried to push the pilot to go through with whatever the plan was. I heard a very distinct “No!” and then a sound akin to screaming. It was rather short and cut off, as if something had clipped the sound like a weed in a garden. I was certain my heart stopped as I heard a loud thud, like a corpse hitting the control board, a long, drawn out sigh, and then the shrill beeping of various control monitors alarming.

Preparing myself for the worst, I was about to force my entry into the cockpit when the plane shifted violently. I was thrown off balance, unprepared for the sudden change, and I fell against the door as the plane plummeted out of the sky without a pilot. I had maybe two minutes to get in there and right the plane or the remaining people aboard would be decimated by the power of the ocean. As the plane fell, I felt my body being lifted by the lack of gravity affecting the plane. I clung to the handle of the door for dear life, not wanting to fly back into the cabin and get smashed against the walls. I peeled away a hand, finger by finger, and reached for the edge of the kitchen counter just around the corner. If I could get up on it, I might be able to jump on the door, using my own body weight to smash through the lock.

It was a long shot, but it was worth a try. I was going to get into that room if it was the last thing I did.

If it was the last thing I did… 

As I got a good grip on a drawer handle, I reluctantly let go of the door and flew backward. The force was many times greater than I had been expecting, and it took me off guard. I felt a sharp stab of pain in my shoulder, and I thought that I might have just taken it out of place. I wiggled it around to find it was sore, but still in the socket. I stood on the wall, leaning forward against the G-forces, and looked around for things I could use to my advantage. The only thing that could be slightly useful was a large food cart, which I used to block the corridor by pushing it in front of the hallway’s opening. When my makeshift launch pad was ready, I stepped onto it, braced for impact, and jumped as hard as I could. I had been right. The force had been just enough to smash through the door, although not the lock. I broke the door nearly in half, splintered wood flying around in the air. The sight I was met with was a gruesome one. The pilot, clad in a light blue shirt and black slacks, was lying in a pool of his own blood on top of the controls with his hands clamped so tightly around his throat that bruises were already forming. That’s when I saw it.

The shiny metal cuff was fastened tightly around his wrist, and it was empty.

The pilot was working with Havener, and he’d tried to refuse. He didn’t know that Havener doesn’t take no as an answer. The cacophony of alarms was tremendously loud. I shoved my hands against my ears trying to block out the sounds, but nothing helped. I would hear these sounds in my nightmares, I was sure.

It wasn’t too hard to get the drooling body off the control systems, but from there I was lost. There were so many buttons and dials that didn’t make sense; they flashed in my eyes, blinding me while their sirens deafened me to the world. I didn’t know how much time I had to figure it out. It was still dark outside, and I couldn’t see the dark depths of the ocean through the cloudy blackness. My eyes darted around wildly hoping to find some kind of autopilot feature, but to no avail.

There was no help.

I was certain going to die this time. Nobody survives plane crashes, especially people who don’t know what they’re doing. Adrenaline surged through my veins and it felt like I was speeding up. Or the world was slowing down. I didn’t know what to do as I slid into the pilot’s chair, so I didn’t the only thing I could think of: pulling up on the controls. I wasn’t ready to accept defeat; I would go out fighting. Besides, I’d seen people do it millions of times in the movies; there had to be some truth to it. I gripped my hands furiously on the hard black plastic of the controller, and yanked it toward myself has hard as I could. For a few moments nothing happened. Alarms continued to blare loudly in my ears, and the plane continued its nosedive. I pulled harder still, willing the plane to pull up. The most terrifying seconds of my life stretched out in front of me, never-ending.

Right as I could make out the faint glimmer of choppy moonlight on the water, the plane seemed to finally respond to my silent, desperate pleas to rise. The nose lifted into the air at a sharp angle, throwing me back into the chair. I pulled harder on the controls until I thought they would break. I didn’t stop until the alarms turned themselves off, and the plane seemed to level itself out. I released a huge breath that I didn’t know I’d been holding, the air gusting out of me and taking all the stress with it. I had never felt more tired in my life than in that moment. I thought that I might black out from exhaustion, until I heard Harry struggling to get over the snack cart in the hallway. I realized that in my struggle, I hadn’t even heard him at all. I hadn’t heard anything except the rapid beating of my own heart.

“What the hell,” I heard him say, more to himself than to me, through the shattered ruins of the door. After a brief bit of shuffling and cursing, I hear his footsteps padding through the remains of the plane. He tried unsuccessfully to stifle a gasp as he saw the scene in the cockpit, although he steeled himself as he walked in and sat in the copilot’s chair.

“Bit of an emergency,” I clarified before he could speak. Harry’s mouth fell open at my brief statement.

“By the looks of it,” he began quietly, “a catastrophic one.” I stole a glance at him, and he had a small, sarcastic smirk on his face as he surveyed the damage. I wanted to laugh the whole incident away, but this was not the time. “What happened?”

“The plane went the wrong way,” I said simply. I chose my words carefully; I wasn’t sure if telling Harry about the conversation between the pilot and the unknown person would be of any help. If anything, it might make him more vulnerable to being killed himself. I didn’t want to risk it.

“So you just decided to obliterate half the plane?” He laughed, but there was no sense of happiness in his tone. Harry scratched the back of his head the way he always did when he didn’t understand something.

“I didn’t do this by choice, Harry,” I said, a steely edge in my voice. I glanced over at him to send the point home. Harry glanced around at the damage again as the first pink rays of sunlight brightened the sky. The long fingers of sunlight glimmered on the water far below us as the sun finally began to rise above the water. In the distance, I could faintly make out the dark shape of what appeared to be land; America began to stretch out before us. “Look at his wrist. He’s got a cuff the same as you.”

Hunted: Harry Styles Fan FictionWhere stories live. Discover now