Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain.
Jackson walked by the mirrors in the front lobby, seeing at first only vague, hazy shadows of himself, but as the minutes passed, they became fully clear reflections. Whether or not people could actually see him was another question, because no one seemed to care about a reflection without a cause. Jackson walked by the mirrors in the front lobby, seeing at first only vague, hazy shadows of himself, but as the minutes passed, they became fully clear reflections. Whether or not people could actually him was another question, because no one seemed to care about a reflection without a cause.
He bumped into someone and they said 'excuse me' but didn't look at him. He apparently was in a semi-physical state, but was possessed of no pulse. At least, none that he could detect. His reflection was a fright; he didn't need to shave, but his skin was the ashen-grey colour of a drained corpse. Wondering vaguely if this meant he was some sort of vampire, he wandered back to the door and looked around for Lisa and Cynthia.
He was just in time to see their bodies being shoved into the backseat of a car.
"Hey! Hey – stop!" he shouted, running after. The tall men in grey suits took no notice of him, however, and began to start up the car. He tried to open the back door, tripped, and fell through the metal into the backseat.
Blinking slightly, he sat up and tried to shake Lisa awake, but it was no use. She was out cold, and so was Cynthia. Stealing a glance upward, he noticed that he was not reflected in their rear-view mirror, nor did they seem to be bothered by his presence. With a sigh, he leaned back against the seat and looked out the window. They were moving too quickly for him to get anyone out safely, and besides – he couldn't seem to grasp the door handle.
"Really brilliant." he groused out loud, crossing his arms and tilting his head back. Not only were Lisa and Cynthia hostages, he couldn't do a damn thing about it. Not in this state. It annoyed him that one moment he seemed almost solid and then the next, barely in existence at all. How long was this going to stick?
The two men in the front weren't talking. In fact, the only thing Jackson could hear was Lisa's and Cynthia's breathing. It was an almost eerie silence, and he glanced out the window again. He swore when he realized they'd been going a lot faster, and they were almost completely out of Miami – or at least, a part he'd never seen before. He didn't recognise anything and it was making him edgy. He picked at a spot on the navy sweater he'd found in Joe Reisart's closet – he was totally unwilling to wear that nasty purple thing – and tried to figure out where they were going.
They didn't stop driving until it was dark outside. By this time Jackson had picked all the little balls of loose threads out of the sweater and was on the verge of going crazy. The girls were still dead asleep, and showing no signs that they were going to wake up.
They pulled into an underground garage and the two men carried Lisa and Cynthia down in an elevator several more floors. Jackson leaned against the wall of the elevator and shoved his hands in his pockets, half of him wishing he was physically real, and the other half praying that they still couldn't see him. He was alone, and he was unarmed. And he wouldn't be any help to the girls if he couldn't even throw a punch. So he waited.
The men deposited the two ladies in a small, almost totally dark room, locking the door and walking away. Jackson slipped through the door and waited until his eyes adjusted before checking on Lisa and Cynthia.
Lisa came round first, hands on the sides of her head, moaning softly in pain. "Unghhh…"
"Lisa? Lisa, can you hear me?"
"Jack? Where are we?"
"You and Cynthia were…taken hostage; I'm presuming…I'm not sure where we are. Apparently they can't see me, and I'm still in flux."
She sighed, and then felt around in the dark for Cynthia. The other girl was slowly coming to, and also had a monstrous headache.
"What did they knock us out with? A Volkswagen?" she murmured, rubbing her forehead.
"Not that I could see. Probably some kind of noxious chemical."
"Jackson?" she blinked. "Was that you?"
"Yes."
"Can you go out there and find out what they want?" Lisa asked, sitting up against the wall and taking deep breaths to try and clear her head of the pain and dizziness.
"I'll try." he said, standing and walking back through the door, wincing at the contrast of the bright lights.
It didn't do him much good, however, because one of the men had just hung up the phone and the other had just sat down and begun to shuffle a deck of cards. Both had stern, silent faces, and neither was saying anything.
"Well this looks like fun." Jackson sighed, watching them for awhile. He tried to posses one, but quickly discovered their minds were either blank or they were very good at concealing things. Finally he decided to just try something. He swiped his hand across the card-table and shoved the stacked deck flying across the room, sending cards everywhere.
One of the men whipped out a gun and fired in his direction; it grazed his shoulder as the other one quickly picked up the deck and brought it back.
"Shit." Jackson stumbled back, clasping his hand to his shoulder. Then the men stopped playing and looked at the floor; he looked down too.
His blood was dripping onto the floor, a dark-red-brown, thick, sticky puddle was forming below his shoulder.
"Ohhh, shit." he whispered, almost literally diving through the door into the small black room before they could shoot him again.
"Jackson? What happened?" Lisa murmured. Cynthia had gone back to sleep, still letting out little noises of discomfort every few minutes.
"They shot me. They can see my blood." he whispered, still in shock.
She found his shoulder in the dark and touched it, frowning in alarm. "And no word?"
"I can't posses them, and they're not talking." he shook his head. "We're just going to have to wait…"
To be continued…