This is my first Gallagher Girls story. So tell me what you think. And this takes place, right before junior year starts. Enjoy!
Flying
Let's see…what story am I going to share this year…maybe when I, nah…how about when I, no, that's not good enough. Maybe I should make someth—
"Everyone freeze!" a guy in all black holding a gun yelled. "This jet is going down and you're all going down with it."
My spy instincts kicked in, while the people around me started screaming.
"Quiet!" he yelled again, turning the gun to a young girl a few rows in front of me. He wasn't paying any attention to me, so I took my chances. I yanked my ponytail holder and a bobby pin out of my hair and made a mini slingshot with them. I aimed at his jugular, which was in plain sight, hoping he wouldn't shoot when it hit him. I don't have time to think about that. The people on this jet were counting on me to save their lives, even though they don't know it. Their lives were in my hands, and no matter how precious life is, one life gone is better than everyone on this jet's lives.
I let the bobby pin go and it flew into the pulsing vein in his throat, it spurted blood when it made contact.
BANG!!!! The gun fired, it missed one of the passengers by an inch over her head. She screamed, but I wasn't paying attention to her. I was out of my seat in an instant. My foot made contact with his stomach as he fell to the ground. I didn't care if I killed him or not. Someone was already in the cockpit and it was up to me to stop him from crashing the jet.
"You," I said quickly to a big man next to me, "Make sure he doesn't get that gun and he stays down. I don't need him coming after me." As soon as I finished giving orders to him, I turned to the flight attendant. "Lock that door and don't let anyone through, even if it's another passenger. One little opening and anyone can get through. And you," I pointed at a young man, about 20, "come with me."
He followed me as we made our way to the cockpit. When we arrived 1 minute 36 seconds later, I motioned for him to wait as I continued into the cockpit. I made a quick assessment of what was there: one man in black flying the jet and another man, probably the pilot, dead, to the right of me. There was no way that he would be able to fly the jet, being dead and all, I guess I was going to have to fly this jet. A gun was laying on him, probably just tossed there.
I quietly creeped up behind the man in black flying the jet, using my hands to snap his neck to one side really fast. POP. His neck popped out of its socket and he was dead. There was no way I was going to fight him while no one was flying the jet. I grabbed the controls from him and yelled, "Get in here! Get this man out of this seat and get me the ear muff things!"
"Where should I put him?"
"By the pilot. He's dead, he won't be bothering me." I took my seat behind the controls and started figuring out where we were.
"Here you go. Do you need anything else?"
"No. I'm good. Go back to your seat. If there's any trouble, come get me."
"Okay. And thank you."
"For what?"
"Saving our lives."
We're not safe yet. I positioned the mouthpiece, "Hello? Anyone? I need someone to talk to here."
"Who are you and what do you need?" a crackly, bored voice asked.
"Rebecca Baxter. I'm flying this jet, whichever this one is, and I need to know where I am."
"Why isn't the pilot flying?" the crackly voice asked, panic was evident.
"He's dead. Plane hijacks killed him. Now where am I?" I demanded.
"About 4 miles from the Ronald Regan National Airport. Do you know how to fly a plane?"
"Yes. And can you get some police officers there? I don't know how many more hijacks are on this jet. I took care of two. One is dead, the other one might be dead, I'm not quiet sure."
"I'm going to stay with you, because I'm sure you're not a certified pilot, even if you know how to fly."
"Thank you. But I learned how to fly when I was fourteen."
"No offense to you, but you sound young. How old are you exactly?"
"Sixteen. I'll be starting my junior year in two days."
"Wait a minute! You can learn how to fly until you're twenty! Where did you learn?"
"At school. Now can you be quiet for a minute please. I need to prepare to land." I flicked on the 'Seatbelts' switch and started positioning the plane for landing.
The door to the cockpit flew open and another man came in.
"Step away from the controls, and no one gets hurt."
I flipped on the autopilot switch, which would just make us fly in circles. I smile crept onto my face. Finally, some action. "In. Your. Dreams."
I whipped around and landed a punch square in the jaw as I grabbed the gun lying on the pilot's lap. I dodged a few punches and kicks, barely aware of the crackly voice in my ear. I was waiting for an opening, getting a few hits in, but when it arrived, I kicked him as hard as I could, which is pretty hard by the way, between the legs. He dropped to the ground, and I dragged him out of the cockpit. I turned and locked the door, going back to the controls.
"Can I land?" I asked as I turned the autopilot off.
"What just happened?" the crackly voice demanded.
"Can I land?" I demanded back. "I need to get this jet on the ground. NOW."
"Yes you can land, but what—"
"Never mind. You'll find out later." I angled the jet toward the runway, when the crackly voice came back.
"Are you hurt?"
"No. But some of the other passengers might be. I don't know. Have an ambulance there waiting."
"Are you sure? I heard you grunting and painful sounds."
"Its no worse than after PE."
"Okay…"
The jet touched down and I eased it to a stop. The police officers and medical crew were there waiting. I saw some reporters in the background. I am not talking to any reporters. I shut the engine off and the police were on the jet before anyone was allowed off.
Someone banged on the door to the cockpit. I turned and unlocked it while I was cleaning up some of the mess that was made. "Excuse me Ma'am. Did you land this plane and request the police to the control tower?" he asked.
I turned to face him. He looked a little surprised at my age. "Yes I did."
"And your name is Rebecca Baxter and you're 16?" he asked, looking at his notepad.
"That is correct."
"Can you please tell me what happened?"
"Of course," I answered and went on to tell him happened. He fervently wrote down what I recounted. When I finished, I asked, "Do you have any more questions, officer?"
"Just one, where did you learn to fly a jet?"
"At my school, Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. You can call them if you need anything else. But I really must be going. I can't be late for the Welcome Back dinner."
"Well, I won't keep you waiting. But I must warn you then, there are some reporters out—"
"I saw them. Thank you, though." I walked out past the officer and stopped before the gait. I just had to pick up my bags and make it to the limo that Headmistress Morgan had waiting. I took a deep breath and calmly walked out into the flashing lights and microphones.
I walked past them, not answering their questions. To them, I was oblivious to their questions. I kept up the calm façade as I picked up my bags and made my way to the limo. When my bags were safely stored in the trunk, I turned to the reporters. Their eyes brightened when I turned.
"What I did was a good deed. I would really appreciate it if you don't follow me. If you want to know what happened, ask the police. They know what happened. Thank you."
I love disappointing the media. It's so fun. The ride back to Roseville was fairly uneventful, in comparison. At least I have a story to tell now. I laughed at the thought. We pulled up behind a long line of limos, waiting to be let in.
"There she is!" familiar voices cried.
"It's so good to see you guys again!" We all embraced in a hug, all four of us. "And you'll never guess what happened…" I paused for a moment, letting the suspense build.
"Just tell us already!" Macey begged.
"Well…"
I hope you guys like this one shot and its not too cheesy. It just came to me. Please let me know what you think of it. Thanks guys!