70 Bob Gets to Meet George or Reapercussions II

Five days after the project finish was topped off nicely by the fire, fire that announced to those in the know that Bob and family were back, Bob led the way through a Seattle airport private terminal towards their chartered jet's gate. It was so much better than driving cross country. With a little persuasion he was able to avoid inspections from officious airport people who might ask questions about moving significant cash and weapons, or worse want to confirm identities. This jet was expensive, but, after this two weeks, he was resolved to have it return them all back to home base, too. He hurried his men on and through. One reason was that the wives and kids were still on board. He didn't want any delays. If he let a dozen kids off they would all be here for hours trying to round them back up. Refueling was completed. He and his men would board and be on their way. The deeper unspoken reason was that he wanted to get away from those reapers. He was aware that distance gave him and his people no larger margin of safety. But it was like standing next to the edge of fifty story drop with no railing. No matter how you tried to convince yourself that everything was OK there was an unconscious part of the brain that would have none of such explanations and would not let you relax until you moved away from the edge. He felt right next to that edge and not safe at all. On this fifth day news broadcasts mentioning the sad end of the Hesburghs and the others had tapered off. They no longer mentioned the Hagen girl at all, she not being important enough to hold the headlines or anyone's interest for long, but she was still very much on his mind. She would have resurrected by now. He had counted down the hours and then the minutes to the end of the third day after she had died, and afterward with each hour, and then each day he breathed a bit easier. He was pretty sure that if she, or any of her associates, were going to do something rash it would have happened already. It hadn't so all in all he had come off with a net gain. He had most of the money consigned to his care by dear Meigan, who might well be with him now. Without Dave he had no way of knowing. He felt foolish talking to the air when alone, but he had reassured her, or perhaps the empty air, that he would try to find another liaison to replace Dave. Marsha he didn't care to see again. She was a traitor and not to be trusted, and very much in this world, unlike Meigan, who couldn't touch him. If Marsha showed herself he would deal with that in due course, give over what they agreed. The fact was that he had no evidence she completed her side of their agreement. But then…he had no clue what happened to any of them down there. Why had the Marsha Dave duo, his Plan A, failed to take care of the issues locked down in that refuge room? Neither Dave or Marsha, had reappeared, which was odd. He was fortunate to have a Plan B ready at hand. And for sure that had worked. They were all eliminated including it seemed Dave. Maybe Marsha had failed to neutralize all the guns before she ghosted Dave down. Perhaps he had been knocked out or shot by someone in the room with quicker reflexes. That would explain a lot. That was very possible given there were an experienced police detective and two of his own people, ex-people, down there with them. That trio certainly had reacted successfully against his original four team members who so foolishly attempted that unauthorized attack at the house, so it was very likely that they had overcome the single shooter down below. That was the likely explanation. He approached the boarding ramp and stood aside to allow the rest of his people to board. They were tired but happy to be on their way as was he. He turned and looked through the terminal windows across towards one of the public access terminal gates and froze. He stepped closer to the window and shook his head to focus better. Was that her standing watching him on the other side of that gate's windows? He again…but…nothing. No one was there now.

"Hey, Father Bob, everything OK?" Baxter asked,

Bob looked up at Baxter standing next to him checking out where his eyes had been directed. There was nothing to see, but milling shapes deeper inside the fishbowl over there. Baxter was a big man and Bob had to look up a bit when he stood this close to him. He said, "Yes. Everything's fine."

Baxter said, "The luggage and currency cases are stowed. I oversaw the placement and lockup myself. Ready to go."

He nodded and Baxter went on ahead. With Kevin gone, and Dave, too, he was lacking capable lieutenants. Baxter was too volatile and did not always take initiative in productive ways. He also was a bit off upstairs. He looked around and there was no one left to board but him. He gathered himself, took a deep breath, and started his march down the green carpeted floor of the enclosed ramp and inside the greeting foyer. He first met a young lady named Mary according to her name tag and the pilot and co-pilot. He turned to step farther inside and was pleasantly surprised not to see rows of seats. He had seen a diagram, but the real thing was so much better. The first section was open with easy chairs, couches, and no crowded rows of seats. The mothers and children had already been on board for the trip across country. He walked through the tumult of kids and their mothers trying to keep them under control. The layout he walked through was more like a living room with lots of couches and low tables. Nice. He could see monitors and game stations. They wanted to get going again all eager to reach the fabled Hawaii. Once back up in the air there would be movies and other distractions. He smiled at each child who looked his way, and then to each young lady that wasn't preoccupied reuniting with their significant other or husband. He knew each and every one of the mothers and their children, and he could see his sisters here too more to the back looking up from books or their own screens. Bigsby's mother, his dear sister, did not smile his way. He was sure she would seek him out later and push her remaining daughter for some position. Fortunately that girl was still below age. Yes, there the girl was, taking care of her young cousins. She did have a better head than her brother so maybe she would work out. Sending Bigsby on that team was something that made him cringe and would for the rest of his life. He lost three good men trying to please his sister not to mention endangered the mission, actually the whole family, almost came to a bad end for that fool's reckless behavior. Going forward he would have to be firmer when the blood tie in question lacked merit. He noticed a few men hugging children telling them how big they were since they had last seen them. The new generation would replenish the family ranks, and now that they were back, he would find it easier to recruit good people from the outside. Those that had left when things went south, well, he would give that some thought whether to let them back in. No. Maybe the lot of them should be terminated. No need to decide now. This last year had been stressful and the relief showed on all their faces. They had persevered through a very difficult ordeal and as a family succeeded once again.

Those without spousal ties were already well inside the aircraft. They would have their own area away from the kids, and he, he would be all the way in the rear with his own private nook. He walked back through the last stretch where his remaining team were already settling into their seats. There were couches and tables here too. Nice touch. He walked on back until he came to a stewardess, Betty he saw on her tag, waiting patiently for him to appear. She pulled a curtain aside for him making sure he found his own refuge. It wasn't a cabin with a door but was walled off and had a dedicated curtain. He liked the plane already. He had leased it unseen based on a broker's description and some diagrams, but he had to admit the man did not exaggerate. Not only did the plane have room for the entire team, what was left of it, but the wives and children, who elected to come. Most had come. And the children here would thankfully remain occupied towards the front just behind the pilots' cockpit.

He sat down next to a window and buckled up. The young attendant, an Asian girl, brought some water and nodded smiling that he had already buckled up. She let him know it would be a little over six hours flight time. She pulled the curtain and moved forward to help her colleague with the families. He actually missed Dave, and he wondered again whether Meigan was with him now.

He woke later, unbuckled and looked outside. The plane was well up above the clouds and on its way to Hawaii.

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Baxter woke up and checked his surroundings. He dreamed someone nudged him on the shoulder, twice, the second time hard. He glanced at his watch. They were only about an hour in the air so still about five hours to go. No one was moving nearby. Most of the men around him were asleep. A few were reading or watching something with earplugs. He unbuckled and got up to use the facilities behind a curtain to the rear of the plane. He moved inside. Back here was an area to prepare food, they could order anything from a menu that would fit in that microwave. He found the door to the lavatory, but he had trouble getting the damn thing to open. This one was different from the usual on airlines. Inside he noticed the interior was twice the size, maybe three times what he was used to on those few times he flew to a job. He finished his business and turned on the hot water and splashed water on his face. He pulled several towels out and dried his face and looked up into the mirror. Someone was behind him. Adrenalin shot through. He started a coughing fit. It was her. He turned around but she was gone. He closed his eyes tight. She had been standing right behind him smiling into the mirror. That was bad enough. She was holding a large knife, his knife, the very one he had used on her, and she was holding it next to her face…and smiling. Her face was unmarked, uncut and no missing pieces. Not how he left her. He opened his eyes up and looked again into the mirror. Nothing. Was he losing it? He never felt anything afterwards…about his playthings…his sessions. He smiled remembering her screams. His only regret now was that he hadn't taken anything to remember her by. He wished he had had more time with her, but the little bitch had somehow got a hold of that gun. There would be more, always would be more, but not that one. He could never play with that girl again. The next one he would make sure he could take his time. He still had no idea why Bob and Dave had been so spooked by her. She felt pain just like they all did, screamed just like they all did. He chuckled and smiled. Whatever. He left and returned to his seat. He stopped over his seat, or couch and stretched a bit more. As he did he glanced towards the back of the plane. The curtain wasn't closed completely and he noticed… Was that the attendant watching him? He put his arms down and looked more closely. No… This girl had blonde hair and was Caucasian for sure. He started walking towards the curtain and the girl moved away. He pulled it aside, and the Asian girl was sitting well off to the side next to a window portal reading a magazine.

She looked up. "Can I help you sir?"

"Is…is there another woman helping you back here?"

"No, sir. There's Mary but she up towards the front taking care of the kids." She studied him. "Is there something I could get you?"

"OK. No. OK. No thanks," He felt stupid. He was seeing things. He returned to his seat and sat down. He got up to check his seat because it was so much more than the usual airline seat. It was really easy to turn into a stretched out bed or couch and he tested that now. He had his own screen. Soon he was dozing off. Flying did that to him. He would probably sleep most of the way there.

He drifted off. He heard a girl's voice. That girl's voice called his name. She said just above a whisper, "Baxter. It's time to play, Baxter."

He jumped up completely awake now and looked around. The other guys were doing their own things, sleeping or whatever. He studied them. If this were a joke it was really a mistake, a big fucking mistake. He would hurt somebody badly for pulling this kind of shit. He watched, looked around, waiting for one of them to crack, to show themselves. No one did. He got up and looked around. He felt like a fool. Or like he was losing it. Not good. This was not good at all. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, and then again. Best to just lie back down and let sleep take him. Damn. He did. He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. Suddenly he felt a sharp slash through his entire ear. He jumped up shouting. He put his hand to his right ear and pulled it back and looked. Blood, lot's of it. He was bleeding…badly. Someone or something had sliced his ear and he was bleeding…on his shoulder and down his front. The attendant was coming towards him. The guys were looking his way or stirring awake. She saw he was bleeding and returned behind the curtain and then came back with towels.

"Baxter. What the fuck, man, I was sleeping. Would you stop jumping around?"

"Son of a bitch." His ear was bleeding. He took the towel and pressed it to the cut. God damn it. The attendant guided him back behind the curtain and sat him down on a fold out seat. She pulled a first aid kit and went to work to clean his wound and patch him up. When she was done, he checked the mirror. He looked ridiculous with this big bandage patch on his right ear. Christ. What the fuck happened? He would have to get something done at a doctor's office in Hawaii, stitches for sure.

He left the girl sitting there and returned to his seat and sat back down. He was getting some looks from the others. Fuck 'em. There was no way he could sleep now. He was wound up tight. He wanted to kill something or someone, better he wanted to cut someone…someone else. Suddenly, a thought struck him. He got up and opened an overhead cabinet. He unzipped his bag and reached in. Fuck! His knife was gone. His favorite fun knife, the one he always used for slicing and dicing. What the fuck was going on here? He looked around and back…and mother fucking Christ…that girl was back behind that fucking curtain again. He didn't move just glared at her. She didn't move either, just smiled at him. He held steady and she stayed right there holding his eyes. He kept his eyes locked on her and reached inside his bag for his pistol. He took it out and with his eyes still on her he left the bag and cabinet overhead open. He started to move towards her and she stepped back out of sight. He pulled the curtain aside roughly. The Asian girl, who was putting away the first aid kit, was startled. She looked at his pistol and at his face. She looked pretty wide eyed considering. She kept cool though.

She asked, "Sir. Sir. May…I help you?"

He put the pistol into his waist band to calm her down, to show her she wasn't in any danger. It worked. He could see her shoulders drop. "Yes. What's behind this area?"

"Ahh. Not much, sir."

"Could there be anyone back that way?"

"No. No, there couldn't." She thought about something. "There is the access to the cargo hold down below, though."

He considered that. He moved over to Bob's curtain and knocked on the wall.

"Come in."

He pulled the curtain aside to enter. The Asian girl sat down heavily and put her hands to her face. Baxter stepped in and closed the curtain behind him. Bob sat reading a book by the light from his window.

He asked, "Baxter. What's the matter? What happened to your ear?"

"We are not alone on this plane."

Bob froze. He looked to Baxter like he understood his meaning exactly and who he was referring to and that raised Baxter's suspicions. Bob's eyes widened and he asked anyway. "What do you mean?"

"I mean we are not alone on this plane." He indicated his ear. "I did not do this to myself." He noticed that Bob didn't ask anything more about the ear.

"Well, Baxter. Who do you think is here?"

"That fucking girl. The one Dave…and you…said was so dangerous. I've seen her. She's here. I don't know how. I sliced that little bitch ten ways to Sunday myself, but she's here…now…and the little bitch did this. This is real." He pointed to his bandaged ear. Something about Bob's face made Baxter reconsider events of the last few months. "Father Bob." He studied his face. "Is there something about that bitch you did not tell me? Like why Dave pissed himself at the thought of getting anywhere within a stone's throw? Like something you did not tell the rest of us?" He already could see just from the man's face that there was something, maybe a lot of somethings.

Bob looked pale. He swallowed hard, cleared his throat, and asked, "Where is she?"

Bob wasn't going to say more. He was avoiding revealing those somethings even now. "I've seen her just outside your curtain here looking into our section a couple of times." He considered the possibilities. "I don't know how she got on board with us, but the attendant tells me there's only one place she could be hiding back this way - down below in the cargo hold. The access is just back there." He pointed farther aft.

Bob's face was still pale. He sat back and looked out the window. Baxter waited. Bob turned back. "Take one of the men and go below and check it out." Baxter turned to leave. "But Baxter." Baxter stopped and turned back. Bob's eyes went to his gun. "We're flying at over 30,000 feet. If you fire that up here and pierce the exterior we will all die within seconds. You can't fire under any circumstance up this high." Baxter nodded and went to see who was up for a climb down below. That was fucking obvious. He knew the plane would have to drop to something like 10,000 to be safe. Well, that could be arranged.

He found a man, Ted, who was awake, and pulled him up and with him. He made sure Ted did not bring a weapon, though he kept his. He had shot that bitch before. He could do it again. The first time wasn't really satisfying. He hadn't a clue what going on, but he had killed her once before. And well maybe he would find another way to entertain himself. They had several hours to Hawaii. This time he wouldn't be hurried. As they were passing by Bob's little cubby hole Bob poked his head out. "Baxter. If you do find her. Bring her to me, unharmed and unmarked."

He nodded. God damn it. That man could read his mind. The attendant opened a door and there was a tight space with a hatch. They got it opened and he looked below. Fuck it was dark. He looked up at the attendant. She was watching from the outside. She nodded and disappeared for a few moments. She reappeared and handed two flashlights over. Baxter led the way down the ladder. After they both were down they panned the light beams around. There was a walk way running down the center. No one was in sight. Baxter pointed the light down the open pathway. The areas on either side were extensive and from what they could see mostly open. This size of plane could hold a lot more than the few people they had on board and it was no where close to capacity for luggage or cargo. He took the lead heading forward and Ted followed.

Ted asked, "Baxter, what are we looking for?"

The man's question was reasonable, but he did not feel like explaining and it just irritated him. Still he kept his cool. "We'll know when we see it."

Ted said no more. They did not have to wait long. Not 100 feet up towards the front leaning back on a pile of baggage was that girl, the very same one he had cut up and killed. When he caught sight of her, when the light beam hit her, she put an arm and hand up to shield her eyes. She deadpanned, "Hi Baxter. Looks like you got me." Damn if she didn't put a book down. She was reading in the dark. He had popped her eye out before. This time he would take one and make her see it and know it was hers.

Baxter pointed the beam down a bit. She dropped her arm and the light showed her clear enough and she was smiling at him.

Ted got a look at her. "Baxter. Didn't you snuff this one out?"

Baxter was too pissed to say anything to Ted. He studied the girl. It sure looked like her. And not a mark on her. He considered shooting her, but dropped that thought. Bob was right. Not up here inside a plane. He knew she should be dead and buried and that should unsettle him, but it didn't. What unsettled him was the fact she was totally unafraid of him. That was new. After what he did to her. And planned to do a lot more of, well, she should be running away, but no. She sat there smiling now. He said, "Bob wants to talk to you." He stepped aside as did Ted and pointed back the way they had come.

She kept that annoying smirk going as she stood and walked by them heading towards the ladder. "Why, what a coincidence. I want to talk to him." She stopped, turned, and still smiling leaned close looking up at his face. "And to you, too, Baxter. I've been so looking forward to meeting you again." She turned back and walked away.

He looked after her. He had a bad feeling overtake him, like when you think you're winning and then that moment hits when you realize you got it all wrong. He knew that fucking Dave hadn't told them something, or maybe he did tell just Bob. Bob was hiding something important. He remembered the story Bob had told them about how Kevin, Scott, and Steve had somehow all ended up dead that night. Something about that didn't smell right. The Monkey, yes. He was a fuck up from the get go, but not Kevin. Bob and Dave had crapped their pants that night. They all could see it. What could he do then, or now? He followed after the girl, and Ted came up behind.

At the top of the ladder the attendant was waiting. She stood back wide eyed as the girl came up through and waited for him and Ted to get up and out. The attendant closed the access and looked to him. When he didn't say anything she walked over to a wall phone, probably intending to tell the pilot about their guest. He shook his head. She studied his face and put the phone receiver back on the wall. The girl nodded at the attendant and asked, "Could I get a bottled water? It was a bit on the hot side down there."

The attendant nodded.

The girl walked on like she owned the plane and knocked on the wall outside Bob's personal refuge. She said a little too loudly, "Father Bob. Are you available for a little get together? Baxter and I would like to have a few words."

So he was invited too. Baxter came up behind her. He motioned for Ted to go back to his seat.

Bob said, "Please come in."

Fuck if Bob didn't stand when she entered. There was a table big enough for four people to play a card game around. He indicated a chair for her across from the seat closest to him. Baxter pulled a chair a bit back and closer to Bob's side and sat down and waited. She sat to his front and left across the table. He hoped this wouldn't last too long cause he wanted to take her back down in the cargo hold to begin what he so wanted to do to her. It wouldn't do for the kids to hear her scream. He smiled at her at the thought. She smiled back. Bitch. She won't be smiling so much longer.

The attendant brought in a bottle of water for each of them. She looked over the three just sitting waiting for her to leave. She stepped back out and closed the curtain.

Baxter noticed Bob look his way and then back to the girl. She said, "It's OK. I don't mind Baxter here."

"He may hear things better left alone."

"It won't matter." She smiled that annoying know-it-all smile again.

Bob's face took a turn towards concerned. He asked, "How's Dave?"

"He's alive and well."

Baxter could see something stir on Bob's face. "And Mr. and Mrs. Hesburgh?"

"They're fine too." She didn't offer to explain.

Baxter had had enough. "Bull. They're all dead. No one could survive that fire."

"He really knows nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Ahh well." She turned his way. "Baxter. Don't you wonder how it is that I'm back? I mean you and I had such a personal and intimate get together out on that road just five days ago."

He did wonder about that and how the hell Dave got disappeared, but he wasn't inclined to think too hard on such things. He was itching to get started and the little thing was sitting there irritating the fuck out of him, and Bob seemed inclined to talk talk when what he needed to do was cut cut. He started to get up to grab the little bitch by the throat, but Bob waved him back down. Shit!

"So Ms. Lass, you've successfully resurrected. Congratulations are in order. Dave explained you would come back. One of the benefits of being undead I suppose."

"Oh, Bob, you can call me George."

"OK. George. The evidence would seem to point towards a successful conclusion to the Hesburgh project - ahh from our point of view."

"Your point of view is somewhat flawed. You see, I moved them. All of them before you lit that fire and then kept them hidden…until today…after you took off in this wonderful plane. I like your enlightened management style and your idea of a vacation. You're very generous inviting the families too."

"Thank you, George." He paused. "May I ask what happened to Marsha, Meigan, and Dave?"

She leaned back and crossed her legs just as serene as could be. "Yes, Bob, you may. Marsha is no longer a reaper. Meigan, dear crazy Meigan, she's gone, crossed over into the Dark. And Dave, well we've recruited him. Actually some time ago."

Who the fuck is Meigan? And Marsha? The Dark? He looked around. He didn't like this at all. He picked up the bottle, opened it, and took a long drink. His ear throbbed reminding him he had some business with this bitch and Bob was not helping matters.

Bob took his bottle too and smiled. "Marsha did come across as needy didn't she? So Dave didn't actually shoot anyone?"

"Nope. He did not." The girl opened her bottle and took a long drink.

"And they all survived?"

"Yep. Everyone as we speak is walking out. They started out as soon as this plane took off. Very soon they will be discovered very much alive by the authorities." She took another drink. "You won't get that information because, well, it will be too late and anyway this plane no longer can communicate with the outside world."

For some reason Bob turned a ghostly pale at that. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He let it out and opened them to concentrate again on her. Something seemed to cross his mind and he reached over to bag on the floor and opened it. "My phone is gone."

Betty came to the curtain and parted it. "Sir, the pilot reports that they've lost radio contact with both Seattle and Hawaii. There're checking equipment now and there's no cause for alarm."

He nodded at the girl and she closed the curtain. He turned back to the girl. "So you've won. What is it you want? Perhaps a promise to leave off the contract?"

She shook her head slowly. Her smile was gone. Bob and she locked eyes. And that lasted for far too long. He was missing something important passing between these two.

Bob asked, "And you've always wanted to go to Hawaii?"

She shook her head slowly again, sighed, and said, "I died before I ever got to take that trip and I'm afraid that it's not in the cards for me today."

Bob raised his eyebrows.

She said, "No, Bob. This nice plane will never get there either. But don't worry. Capital equipment like this is always heavily insured. The owners will replace it at no cost to themselves."

Bob sat up. "You…can't be serious. There are more than a dozen children on this plane."

"Fifteen. I know their names. And the names of their mothers, and fathers, those still alive and on board."

Bob sat back. "That's not right. Not right at all. For you to take recourse against so many innocents."

Baxter couldn't stand this any longer. He leaned forward and asked with as much malice in his eyes as he could put there, "Are you saying that you're going to bring down this plane before it gets to Hawaii?"

She seemed to ponder the question and glanced his way before fixing her eyes back on Bob. "No. I will not bring down this plane. But it will never get to Hawaii."

He stood up and pulled out his gun. Bob did not move, nor oddly did the girl. She smiled at him. "Ohh Baxter you warm my heart giving me an excuse."

Bob said, "Baxter. Don't shoot that up here. You'll kill us all."

He pointed it at her and yet she did not flinch. The gun disappeared. And then he was flying through the air out through the curtain landing on the other side of the plane. He found himself on the floor looking up at the ceiling. The bitch never touched him. He sat up. The attendant, who had been sitting at her station reading that magazine, looked at him and stood up. He got up and headed back. The two were sitting there. She was smiling at him. Enough of this shit. He charged her and hit what felt like a stone wall just through the opening and fell back on his butt.

Bob said, "Baxter. That's enough. Ms. could you tell the pilot to take us down below 10,000 feet."

Finally, something made sense. He shook his head. The attendant moved over to the wall phone and he stood up and held his head for a moment. She and Bob were watching him. The bitch hadn't stirred. He stumbled back over to his chair and sat down.

The attendant, Betty, came back to the now curtain-less opening and said, "The pilot asked why we need to go to a lower altitude. He can't change altitude without good reason and permission to deviate from our flight plan."

Bob ignored Betty and studied the girl and then said, "The pilot and co-pilot are completely innocent as is this young lady here. Betty." He waved a hand towards the attendant. "And those fifteen children have absolutely nothing to do with our disagreement. Nothing. By what…reasoning…do you conclude it is moral to murder them? I mean I can get my mind around your taking action against me, or Baxter, or any of the team that actively has worked to fulfill our contracts, but the children? Really?"

She shrugged. "Bob. I'm sure Dave explained what I am." She paused.

Bob nodded.

"I don't decide who lives and who dies. I just come to collect the souls."

"And everyone on this plane is going to die?"

She nodded.

"Well, I want to appeal this…to whomever you report to…now." Bob tapped a his finger on the table for emphasis.

Christ this was confusing. He held his head. He had a bad headache coming on. He had hit that invisible wall head first.

She said, "OK." She looked up to the ceiling, smiled. "Rejected. You all have appointments. And I'm here to collect."

"This is not fair. Why take us? Many of us are innocent of any wrongdoing."

She interrupted him. "Fair has got nothing to do with it. If it did you might well have been taken a long time ago."

He studied her face. She continued, "You know you and your team have quite the retinue following you, waiting for an opportunity."

Bob eyes widened.

"My guess is that Meigan kept them away from Dave and you. She missed a few. But it doesn't matter. They're all here now. For example."

Baxter watched as a form took shape. The attendant, who had been watching from outside now that the curtain was gone, screamed and ran towards the front. It was Dick back from the dead standing there. He stood a few feet away. But he wasn't alone. Behind the little bitch, standing in crowded rows, were more than a dozen people taking shape as clear as Bob sitting there, like he could reach out and touch them. He was going insane. He had to be. He recognized a few of them. He had killed them years ago. They couldn't be here now. No. What the fuck had Bob gotten them into? "Bob. What is she?" He looked over to Bob, who was very sickly looking now. Maybe he recognized a few in the crowd too. Things here were going from bad to worse. They just stood behind her.

Dick said, "Hi Bob, Baxter. Long time no see." And he grinned that shit grin of his. It was him.

"Dick. You're dead."

The girl reached out and Dick handed something to her. It was his play knife. She held it so he could see it and then placed it on the table. He tried to reach for it. He couldn't move his arm to take it. He couldn't move his arm at all. He couldn't get up. He looked up at Dick. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Baxter. Your lifestyle choices are catching up to you."

"Fuck you." He felt something…not painful, but odd. Those old jobs of his, two of them he had killed a long time ago, took hold of his arms on either side.

The girl ordered, "Take him below. I will be down soon." She handed his knife to a third and damn if he didn't go down through the floor into the cargo hold. Someone hit him hard and he fell down. Things had taken another turn for the very bad. One of them was holding the knife showing it to him. He knew very well what could be done with that and he started to hope the plane went down soon.

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Bob watched Baxter go down through the floor with three of the ghosts. She must have ghosted him. Those spirits left up here disappeared again leaving just her sitting across the table watching him. He wasn't one to give up. Whatever happened to him he had to try to save the children and their mothers. He was pretty sure he was fucked as Baxter might say ten ways to Sunday, but the others might still have a chance.

"Shall we take a walk?"

She shrugged and rose to her feet. "Fine. I'm sure we won't be doing any forced marches over mountains."

He had no idea what she meant. She said, "I blister easily. Please lead the way."

He left his little refuge and walked out into the first area. With the commotion his men were all up now, agitated. A few had guns out. He motioned for them to put them down. The plane was too high and he suspected even below 10,000 feet it would not stop what was to come. Dave told him about his head shot back in the warehouse, but that had only slowed her down. She was not what she looked to be. He needed to keep that awareness front and center. He stopped and turned to her. She was calm, no fear at all, and he was sure it was not a bluff. He considered what to say maybe to introduce his men to their reaper, but decided to keep things as calm as possible. He was sure it would only amuse her, but his men would fail to appreciate the humor. He did not want chaos to break out, that's not how he wanted to spend his last minutes. He leaned closer and asked, "How long do we have?"

She kept her voice low. "Soon, but we still have some time. We've entered a window for the end. I want to leave enough time so I can get to know Baxter before he exits. I don't want to be hurried. And I think there's going to be a line." She paused. "A few of his shadows have been waiting so long." His face must have showed a question, because she continued, "I ghosted his knife, the one he liked to play with, and his shadows are using it on him now. They all want him to appreciate what he did to them, and as one of those who was on the receiving end, I would like to be there. We all really think he should experience his own sharp edge before he passes on."

He nodded. Maybe he would escape that sort of end. He had always been satisfied with a clean kill. He walked on through into the section where the children were with their parents. He stopped there with her. He wanted her to see the faces of these innocents up close. The lights were dimmed. Most were watching something on their screens. Several were asleep. Betty had rushed through but without creating panic. That was good. Maybe just maybe he could convince this George to let these at least escape…maybe on a life raft. All these aircraft had something like that. That was probably the best deal he could obtain. Kathy, mother of three, was watching them, probably wondering who George was. She could not know. She nudged her husband Frank awake. He looked first to Kathy. Kathy directed his attention their way and Frank's eyes went wide. He sat up. Bob motioned for him to stay down and quiet and he did. Bob walked on.

Little Donovan caught his eye and ran to him jumping on up into his arms. He gave the little guy a tight hug, put him down, and turned him to face Ms Lass. Fortune was smiling then as this one had good manners and on cue Donovan smiled up at her. Bob did the formal introductions. "Donovan, this is George. And George, this is Donovan, the son of my niece Sylvia. He just started first grade."

George got down into a crouch and showed little Donovan a big grin. "How do you do, Donovan?" She extended her hand and Donovan shook it and beamed at her.

"I am fine, thank you. Isn't George a boy's name?"

"Yes, it is, but sometimes it can be a girl's name, too, like it is for me."

Donovan looked up his way and Bob nodded. He took off towards some new destination. He hoped for a few more of the children, but none in this moment of great need seemed willing to break from their videos or games, or to wake up. They moved through a curtain where the attendant Mary was sitting and Betty was standing to the side. They looked frightened. He motioned for them to leave them alone. Mary and Betty walked back through the curtain.

"So, Ms. Lass. Can't you arrange to let these innocents slip through your net?"

She watched him waiting for something but not responding. He didn't have anything to bargain with. Her conscience maybe was all that might stop the death of these children. Desperation was taking hold. He knew he had never once spared innocents. Often the people he was contracted to eliminate deserved their fates, but he also knew he often directed the termination of their children. He had never given thought to any final reckoning, he never thought there could be some final judgement. Even when he learned of reapers he continued to take contracts and oversaw the execution of children he knew were not guilty of anything but having the wrong parents. He never gave mercy and found he was very much in need of it now. A rough unforgiving balancing was moving events toward an end he could see, and was powerless to stop. When he had the free will and thus choices that might have avoided this fate, he was ignorant of the future, but now that he had the knowledge of the consequences his exercise of free will was caught in a tight vice when his past choices now met consequences and no escape was available.

George stood impassively, and gave off no indication she would answer him. The more he studied her face and looked into her eyes the closer he felt his own end approaching. There was no mercy to be found. She wasn't a girl. She wasn't even human he suspected. She could act like one but it was a facade she affected. She was a grim reaper. Dave had not fully appreciated, nor had he, what they were dealing with. They were misled by appearances as they were supposed to be. Much too late, here, now, he understood he was face to face with Death incarnate. In his early days he liked to imagine himself as an agent of Death as he finished off his targets. It gave him a rush, a feeling of godlike power. Standing here before him she really was Death's agent. He had been play acting. She was not. She was also not cruel. She seemed to read something of his thoughts and said, "These innocents…their souls will be taken care of. I will make sure they get to where they are supposed to go."

Not the answer he wanted to hear, but…it was something. Whatever happened to him at least he would know his transgressions would not taint the fate after death of those he most cared about. He closed his eyes. When he opened them he met hers and nodded, ready.

She nodded in return and then was gone. He stood there looking into the empty space she had vacated. He was alone here, and he could feel each of his last remaining seconds tic by marching toward his own end, his fate, his deserved fate. He had failed the family. He wasn't one to dwell on regrets, but he did feel acutely that he had failed the family. Perhaps…he pondered the excess of confidence that led him to think he could beat Death, and that he could do such evil in the world and escape punishment in this life as well as the next. He felt a rush of power back when he had first detected and survived the knowledge of reapers and their activities surrounding the end of his targets. Probably his last real opportunity to walk away was when Dave had told him of his encounters. Yes. The way it had so effortlessly thwarted his attempts on the boy and the Hesburghs, and then co-opted Jane and Tom, all were neon bright warnings, that there was a higher power at work, and that he had ignored. If he hadn't been so arrogant he would have walked away when he first discovered them. Maybe though he never really had that choice, not as the head of the family, this family, given what they did as a profession. Whatever. He hadn't. And now. He looked around. Mary poked her head in, checked the area and not seeing the girl came in. Betty followed her. They, Betty especially, were frightened. Of course they were. Their only crime was showing up for work today. He would carry the responsibility for these deaths too with him. As the seconds ticked their way down to his very final end it was perhaps a bit late to develop a capacity for mercy. But here it was. He hoped their end when it came was quick. He pulled himself together. The guilty, the innocent. He needed to keep everyone calm…and unsuspecting until as close to the end as he could manage. He did not want to see these people spend their last minutes in chaotic futile terror. The terror would come soon enough. He knew that for a fact having delivered so many to their own final ends, bearing witness to so many violent bloody ends. He smiled at the two young women. "Everything will be OK. Betty? Yes. Don't worry. We've got things straightened out and under control." He said that with as much confidence as he could muster.

Betty didn't look convinced. She had seen the ghosts and overheard some horrible things said. But…as he knew all to well. People staring death in the face could be persuaded of utterly ridiculous things just to cling to a belief that they were going to come out just fine, and they would do this confronted with obvious contrary evidence if you offered even the tiniest possibility of escape, some delusion. Betty looked at Mary, then at him and asked, "Where is that…girl? And who were those people in there with you? And…"

"Betty. That girl I was talking to, is gone now. She had to go to the restroom. Later you'll find her sleeping right out there. She's a niece of mine and we had a few things to talk over. But it's all settled now. Why don't you do whatever you're supposed to be doing now."

Betty looked unconvinced, but Mary was satisfied. Mary said, "Come on, Betty. Let's get lunch menus out for people to look over. If we wait too long these kids will start climbing the cabin walls." Mary grinned and walked over to the wall lockers and pulled down a handful of page size laminated menus.

He nodded towards Betty. Betty looked around and walked back through the curtain towards her own section. He needed to return there and make sure his men were put at ease.

He smiled as he walked back through. His confidence and calm demeanor helped his men to climb down. It reassured them everything was OK. They trusted him. They sat back down to return to sleep or their entertainment, or a few back to their snacks. He joked with Ted, "Hey, the menus are coming. Don't spoil your appetite with that sugar stuff. You don't want to die young."

Ted grinned broadly. "Hell, I'm not letting my ex-wife inherit my pension."

His nook in the back was empty or appeared to be. He knew there were several spirits with him, watching, waiting. He listened and could hear nothing over the sound of the aircraft engines. Baxter's screams would stay contained down below. He considered his options. He would not be able to save anyone. He and his men, his family, the plane crew, all of them, were doomed. Baxter was receiving some extra measure of retribution even now down below at the hands of Baxter's former playmates. There was nothing he could do for Baxter. Ms. Lass didn't give him a time for their end, just soon she had said. He crouched over his bag and opened it wide. His phone was gone. It was likely every phone on board had been disappeared. No communication with the outside would be permitted. The pilots would not succeed in fixing the bug in their equipment but it would keep them occupied. They had not changed altitude. He considered they were nearing the half way point. If they went down here, the plane would likely sink into some of the deepest parts of the Pacific. That would be an icy dark tomb. Their bodies would never be recovered. There wouldn't even be an attempt to recover this plane. But what did that matter? He knew for a fact now he had a soul and that would be dealt with…elsewhere. He looked out his window at all those fluffy clouds below them, like he was so close to Heaven, somewhere almost within reach just above. He did not kid himself on his own prospects of ever getting there. But he was sure the kids would make it. He found his own pistol. The ammunition was not the type air marshals used, bullets designed not to pierce the hull of the aircraft, no his was something immediately fatal to everyone on board at these high altitudes. The bullets loaded in his clip would do the trick. He took his comfortable couch seat near the window and placed the pistol on his lap. Even with all he knew he hesitated, and why not? He stood before the gates of Hell itself. He looked down at his pistol and then out at the blue sky and those fluffy peaceful clouds. He owed it to himself and to all those on board not to grasp for delusions, some false hope for survival. One delusion he would deny himself now, better late than never, was that he could outsmart Death. Ms. Lass had made it clear no one was going to survive. No one. What was the cleanest, surest, quickest way to that end? Did he have the right to make the decision for all these people? He shook his head. Some part of his brain wanted to drag this out, find an excuse to talk with, to get others to take some of the responsibility for what he knew he would have to do, to minimize the terror at the end. For some, he was opening the gates to Heaven, for others, like himself, it would be Hell, he was sure. No, this family was not and never had been a democracy. He had failed his people in life and it was important now that he not fail them at the end. He took the safety off, put the first round into the chamber, and leveled the gun at his window. He looked at his ghost like image in the glass staring back holding his gun. He smiled at Death.