The bloodshot eyes, a grimy used-to-be-white wifebeater, dirty pants rolled up to two inches below the knees together with the hint of alcohol on his breath don’t inspire confidence. But the team wouldn’t have hired him if he wasn’t good.
I nod, then climb into the plane.
“All right.” He situates himself in the pilot’s seat. “If anything happens, there’s a parachute under each seat.” He laughs. “If any of ’em work.”
I pray the plane’s better maintained than the man’s clothes, but the craft rattles horribly as it gains speed on the short runway. The cockpit door has been ripped out and never replaced, so… I bounce in my seat, and almost hit my head against the low ceiling despite the seatbelt.Jesus,I know I’m supposed to play the unserious adventurer, but this is ridiculous. Should I be grateful the seatbelt is working?
But the plane takes off, climbing up and up without sputtering. Apparently, the engines are solid underneath the garbage exterior.
–Me: All taken care of. Toilets unclogged.
–Mom: Great.
I thumb through photos that have just arrived on my phone. Lots of fantastic shots of cheetahs in the wild. If anyone ever gets nosy enough to want to see my work, I’ll have something to show them.
We turn on to our heading and level off and everything’s fine for about ten minutes. Then the plane starts to roll.
For fuck’s sake.I know the pilot was drinking before, but is he so drunk that he can’t fly straight?
“Yo, keep the plane straight!” I yell.
Nothing, and the plane tilts further.
What the hell?I unbuckle and go to the cockpit to give the pilot a piece of my mind. I’m not flying like this all the way to Nairobi.
“Hey, what’s—”
The pilot is slumped to the side. I pull his head back and see white foam mixed with blood around his mouth. His eyes are blank. I don’t need to check his pulse to know he’s dead.
There are sudden explosions on each side of the plane—shit. I head back and look out the dirt-crusted windows. Black smoke billows from the engines and we start to nosedive.
Panic, terror, fury—something should hit me, but instead, the only thing filling my head is a blasé “Guess this is how I’m going to go.”
In a fraction of a second, the meaning of my life flashes by—and the fallout from my death. At least it’ll be a clean, quick one. Painless. I deserve that much for all the horrible actors I’ve killed over the years. My brothers might wonder—but Mom will feed them a good story. Hopefully she doesn’t tell them I’m dead. No need to dump grief on them. They have their wives and families. They should be busy enjoying what they have.
On the other hand, maybe they’ll be fine even if they learn about my demise. They might even console themselves, thinking I died doing what I loved the most.
Shooting cheetahs.
They would’ve been right two years ago. Now…
Bobbi.
Longing wraps a fist around my heart. I miss her so much. My eyes land on the yellow bag by the pilot. It’s the same color as the beautiful birthday cake she baked for me in Mexico. I’d never felt so loved and cherished in that moment, when she woke me up from a nightmare after bringing the cake and all I could see was her looking down at me with concern in her eyes. Even as guilt poked at me for lying to her, I basked in her warmth.
Dying means never seeing her again. Never putting her in danger. She’ll never end up like Swain’s fiancée.
My heart sputters, then beats hard at the notion that I’m never going to see her smile again. She won’t miss me. She might even be glad when she hears I’m gone.
After all, what have I given her in the end except deception and heartache?
The knot in my chest grows unbearably tight, enough to make me wince and put a hand over it.
If you’re going to miss her that much, why did you stay away?a voice in my head asks.
Can’t go like this. I won’t let Bobbi think she meant nothing to me. If I survive this, I’m going to go back to her. Show her what she means. I’ll prove it to her…
Adrenaline pumps. I reach for the bottom of the pilot’s seat. He won’t be needing his parachute. And bingo. It’s so dusty and stiff... Is it still in working order?
