Chapter 6: The Flight
"I'll reach out to the airfield," Aram said. "I'll get your ride set for you."
"No," Reddington said. "I want these two to do it." He pointed a hand with two fingers forked, each pointing to Fitz and Brandon. He approached them very closely. Zim gritted his teeth, knowing some kind of joke was about to be made at his expense.
"Gentlemen. I need you to make sure that the plane you have prepared for us is equipped with a separate compartment on the inside for the explicit purpose of keeping Zim back there."
Fitz and Brandon looked at each other. Fitz's eyes gleamed. "You want the Con Air Steve Buscemi package."
"Precisely. Also, if you could set up a Hannibal Lecter mask for him, that would be nice."
Brandon laughed, looking at Zim. "Oh, we can set that up!"
"Goddam you to hell," Zim said.
"One more thing," Reddington said. "I would very much like it if you could make such a compartment capable of being ejected from the plane."
Brandon and Fitz laughed like hyenas.
"Very funny, you guys," Zim said. "I'm laughing my ass off over here."
Reddington whirled on Zim. "Do you see me laughing, Mr. Zim?" He stared at Zim, daring him to say anything. Point made, Reddington relaxed a little. "I assure you, gentlemen, that I am not joking. Please make the arrangements."
Fitz and Brandon talked to each other for a moment, and Brandon picked up a phone to call up his order. Zim shook his head, annoyed.
Suddenly a couple of very strong men showed up with a Hannibal Lecter mask and a vertical gurney.
"You're kidding me," Zim said.
Brandon's face went stern. "Do you see me laughing, Mr. Zim?" And then he broke out into laughter. Fitz joined him.
The men moved toward Zim. He backed up. "Wait! If you're going to do this, what happens if I have to go to the bathroom?"
"I guess you'll just shit yourself," Fitz said.
"We do have FBJ on retainer," Brandon said. "Maybe think about it loud enough, and he'll give us a call if he hears it."
"Sounds like a plan," Fitz said.
"Agreed," Reddington said, returning to the conversation. "In fact, strap him into that compartment, too." He pointed to D-Dolla'.
"Fuck no," D-Dolla' said. "I'm an American, dammit! See my flag?" He pointed to the Confederate flag on his hat. Oh dear God, he meant it, too. "I have unelongated rights!"
Keen shot him with a taser. In the balls. D-Dolla' grunted and shook and drooled, and then he dropped. Conscious but unable to move. They strapped him into the gurney while they waited for a new one for Zim.
"I really liked doing that," Keen asid.
Excellent! She loved Zim, not D-Dolla'! It was now confirmed! Zim was going to score!
"Can I do him next?" She pointed to Zim.
"Don't bother," Reddington said. "He's a cooler like I said. If you tried to tase him, the polarity would probably reverse and make you irrationally explode."
"Aw," she said.
Dammit! Zim scowled and the new gurney arrived. He gave a tremendous sigh and resigned himself to be strapped down.
Aram approached Zim and attached what looked like a sticker near his wrist, so if he flicked his fingers down he could reach it. "If you need to go to the bathroom, you can push this."
Reddington stared at Aram. "You are making a terrible mistake. And chances are very good that I will be the one to pay the price for it."
Aram retreated as quickly and awkwardly as he could.
Reddington stood directly in front of Zim and looked into his eyes. It felt like he was trying to shoot daggers into Zim. "If you push that button, and you don't have to go to the bathroom, it will be the last thing you do. I will not hesitate to airdrop that compartment into a volcano. Do you understand me?"
Zim gave yet another tremendous sigh.
"Yes or no," Reddington said. "Any other word out of your mouth is the wrong answer. Wrong answers have consequences. Dire consequences."
Zim tremendously sighed. "Yes."
"Dismissed." Reddington walked away, and the guards put the Hannibal Lecter mask on him.
Soon they were on the plane. Zim and D-Dolla' were put into the compartment, the former wide awake and wishing he could play Final Fantasy on his phone, the latter unconscious and smelling like urine. The main compartment of the plane housed Reddington, Keen, Ressler, Fitz and Brandon. Aside from the pilots, no one else was on board. They were blissful in the absence of Zim, Zim thought. He felt good just to be away from those savage assholes.
And then it happened. He felt it in the pit of his belly, and pressure pushed at his butthole. He didn't just have to shit. It was going to be a diarrhea shit. And a big one, if the pressure indicated anything. His belly gurgled like a Predator.
He pushed the button.
The door to the compartment whisked open, and Brandon and Fitz stood there. "What's going on, Zim?" Brandon asked in that goofy voice.
Fitz gave the Fitz Whistle. He then removed the Hannibal Lecter mask. "Is it number one or number two? I just wanna know how much time I have."
Zim let out a sigh that sounded tremendous. "Number two."
"Zim's gotta go doodies!" Brandon cried out with laughter.
"Just help me, all right? It's a four alarm emergency."
Fitz and Brandon set him free and brought him to the bathroom. It was bigger than most airplane bathrooms, so Zim was able to get his pants down and comfortably sit on the toilet. Just in time. It came rushing out of him. It felt like the laser at the end of the first Avengers that pointed up to a portal to another galaxy. Then it sputtered down to a machine gun fired into a mud puddle for a while. Finally it came to an end, so he wiped and pulled his pants up. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands. As he did so he got the button a little wet. He hoped that didn't make it useless. The flight across the Atlantic would take forever. He didn't want to have to do this again.
He opened the door, and just as Fitz and Brandon got ready to return him to his cell, the copilot popped his head out of the cockpit.
"We just had a pulse of energy go through this ship," he said. "Our communications are down, and it killed our controls. The only reason we're still in the sky is because the engines are still going. We have a serious problem."
Silence suddenly. Brandon slapped his forehead. "The button Aram gave Zim! Did you get that wet while washing your hands?"
"Did you wash your hands?" Fitz asked.
"Yes, I washed my fucking hands!" Zim yelled.
"Did you get it wet?" Brandon asked again. His tone was sharper.
"Uh . . . I guess. Yeah."
"Do you notice something?" Keen asked.
Zim did. Silence. No plane was ever silent.
The copilot's face went white. "Oh shit! The engines!"
Everyone turned their angry gazes at Zim. The copilot rushed into the cockpit and slammed the door behind him.
Reddington stood and approached Zim. Blinking rapidly. Biting his lower lip. The head went sideways. "I am never getting on a plane with you again. Never. And I hope the reason isn't because I'm about to die."
The intercom went off. The captain, who sounded a lot calmer than he should have been, came on. "You should all strap in. We're about to dive."
Just as everyone scrambled to find a seat and strap in, the plane bottomed out, and everyone lost balance.
"You killed us, Zim!" Brandon shouted. "You piece of shit, you've killed us all!"
"At least he's dying, too," Fitz said.
"He won't," Reddington said. "Something will save him. Somehow. It always happens that way."
Fitz and Brandon looked at each other.
"He's right," Brandon said.
"Fuck," Fitz said.
TO BE CONTINUED!
