DAY -1

Deadfall

"She's geet lush," Matilda told her travelling companion while looking at the behind of the flight attendant.

"Mm, wha'?"

"Stewardess ower there," she said to her friend. "Giz a deek at 'er."

The young woman next to her chuckled despite her nervousness. "Tha' aal ye ever think aboot?"

"Aye, Chel. Whey aye man." She kept staring at the blonde flight attendant, who'd now become embroiled in a discussion with a fussy passenger, a blond-haired man with glasses and a terribly nasal voice. She was pretty, that was a fact. With a sultry voice, Matilda said, "Ah find m'self 'avin' the strang urge tae drink 'er bathwater."

That made Chelsea burst into nervous laughter. "Cor, Tilly, tha's proper rank, tha'."

Tilly turned to her friend. "Ye have tae stop bein' so tense an' tha'. We're almost in Houston. When we get there, no gannin' crackers, d'ye knaa wha' I mean like? Jes… do as yer telt."

"I'll be alreet, Tilly."

"You're my best mate, Chelseh, but you better not fock this up. For the both of us. We fockin' need this, yeah?"

"No' a bairn, Tilly. Just… divvent worry, it's gan be alreet."

"I'm just sayin'. Yer pretty noticeable with tha' wazzock 'aircut as i' is, so divvent bollocks it up."

This wasn't helping her nerves. "Tilly, stop blartin', yeah? Ah luv ye, but ye fockin' do me 'ead in sometimes. We've dun this before, it's na diff'rent this time 'round."

"Yah, soz pet, I'm just a wee bit – "

"Sir, settle down!"

The stewardess' voice made them both turn their heads. She was standing in front of a passenger, with a hand raised to him to urge him to calm down, but the passenger wasn't obeying, and just kept coming towards her, with strange lurching steps, as if he was sleepwalking, but when Chelsea saw his face, she knew it was anything but that. His eyes were glassed over, and they stood deep in their black-ringed sockets. Black veins painted the skin on the side of his neck, fading as they reached his face.

"Sir, please, sit down," the stewardess once again commanded, but the passenger didn't listen. "Marshal! Marshal!"

From the aisle at the front of the plane, a man came running, dressed in an unbuttoned shirt and jeans, his weapon belt clearly visible with his shirt undone. Whatever had gotten into this passenger, he'd probably think twice about his course of action when he turned around and saw this massive, armed black man staring him down.

"Alright, sir," the air marshal ordered the creepy passenger. "Federal Air Marshal. I need you to sit down, sir. Right now."

The passenger didn't even turn, and just kept shambling towards the stewardess. The nametag on the girl's blue vest read "ELAINE".

"Alright," the marshal announced to all the passengers. "Everybody stay in your seats. Stay calm." He drew his baton, and Chelsea was anything but calm.

Tilly turned to her and briefly said, "I don't like this," before again focusing her attention on the aisle.

The marshal, his weapon ready, reached for the passenger. "Sir. Sit down or I will use force."

With a clack, the baton extended. The marshal's other hand hovered above the passenger's shoulder.

The marshal's hand and the passenger's shoulder touched, and flight UA942 was doomed.

It happened so fast, nobody had time to react, not even the marshal himself. The passenger whirled around, and with a guttural cry, buried his teeth in the side of the marshal's throat. The stewardess threw her hands in front of her mouth and screamed. The marshal fought back, shoving the rabid man off him, the collar of his beige shirt drenched with red. The baton swung down, catching the lunatic in the side of the head, but despite the terrible blow, he just kept moving, again throwing himself on the marshal, who lost balance and fell back, his attacker on top of him. Chelsea couldn't see what was happening, but the next moment, shots rang out, the first two putting two holes in the plane's ceiling, but as the marshal let out a horrible shriek, more shots sounded, the weapon's trigger being pulled by pure finger reflex. Screams and wails broke out as the bullets went through the chairs and the people occupying them. Behind Chelsea and Tilly, a young boy of no more than fifteen was shot straight in the face as he sat on his knees, reversed in his chair, his brain splattering against the ceiling. Another shot struck the overweight woman sitting next to the irritating blond guy in the chest, blood spattering on the blue vest and gold nametag of the stewardess, who just stood shrieking in terror.

"Stay doon, Chel," Tilly shouted over the chaos as people unbuckled their seatbelts and tried to scatter in all directions even though there was nowhere to go, trampling each other in the aisle and falling over each other in the seats. "Just stay doon. Fockin' 'ell."

As Chelsea looked back at the aisle, she saw the air marshal stand up, and for a moment, she thought everything was going to be alright. But then she saw his dead eyes, his deformed face, and the blood running down his chin, and she knew they were all going to die. The marshal, letting out guttural growls, grabbed the first passenger he saw, a typical Yankee jock with a football jersey, and as the young man screamed in terror, the marshal pulled him closer and the next moment, his teeth ripped out the guy's larynx.

"Oh God wha's happenin'?" Chelsea heard herself scream.

And as she looked on, her eyes wide in terror, the jock, too, snatched at a passenger, setting his teeth into his prey's throat, spraying his face with arterial blood while the marshal went after his next victim.

"Don't look! Oh geez, Chel, don't look!" Tilly screamed as the entire cabin became complete chaos, with the crazed passengers biting more and more people, who in turn, attacked even more.

The wave of bedlam was going to the back of the plane, away from Chelsea and Tilly, but there were still several crazed former passengers making their way to the front.

"Stay still, Chelsea," Tilly said, covering them with a blanket. "Maybe if we stay still, they'll nae see us."

"We can't – "

"If we fight 'em, we'll die too. Just… stay still, maybe we can get off the plane after it lands."

"There's no way they'll be able to land this plane if – "

"Yes there is. Cockpit's impenetrable. Long as that stays closed, we're safe."

But Tilly hadn't even finished her sentence before the plane veered sharply to the right, and then plunged its nose downwards. "Oh shit, what the fuck," she hissed, the world now shrunk to just the two of them, huddled beneath the blankets as the entire plane around them was a scene of panic, blood, horror and carnage. Something heavy came down on Tilly, but with her eyes shut, she endured the pain and terror. The heavy weight slid down, smacking down on the floor where their legs had been before they'd rolled themselves into balls.

Chelsea risked a quick look, and saw it was the stewardess, her face dazed from the fall, but still looking more or less alive.

Tilly put down her leg next to the girl, so the blanket half-covered her too. "Stay still," she said, "You're too beautiful to die."

"Cruh… cruh…" The stewardess tried to say, pulling her legs under the blanket.

"Shh, quiet," Chelsea hissed at her. "Don't let them hear you."

"Cra… crash p… position," Elaine the flight attendant managed to utter. "Plane… going down."

Was this woman seriously going to rattle off her stewardess spiel about those useless crash positions? "Shut up and stay still," Chelsea hissed.

"No, you shu' up," Tilly snapped back at her. "Get in the crash position, it just might save our lives. Fockin' do it!"

As quietly as possible, even with the noise and screaming all around them, Chelsea shifted position so she sat in her chair, and tucked her head between her knees. It was too late to help the stewardess up, but it was every person for herself now.

Just before the plane ploughed into the ground, tearing itself into fiery pieces, the stewardess opened her eyes, looked straight into Chelsea's, and as tears streaked down the sides of her face, she said, "It's all my fault. It's all my fault."