I snort. All eyes zero in on me as I just barely manage to mask it as a cough.Holy shit, did they actually buy Niko’s bullshit?Sure, he sounded very convincing, but aren’t there procedures in place and ways to confirm our identities? Or is it because they are behind schedule? Dealing with us would make them even later.
Smart move, Niko.
“Alright, everybody. Let’s get that plane loaded and in the air,” the guy with the big gun commands.
With everyone’s help, we load the plane in fifteen minutes. While documents are signed at airfield control and Niko fakes a phone call to the cargo compound, I take in the plane. It’s got three engines, two on the wings and one at the back. My brain pulls from all those plane crash investigation videos I’ve been watching, my most recenthobby. It has to be an old Boeing 727, and it also comes with no markings and plenty of scratches.
“So, who’s the one flying this bird?” Niko asks, ensuring the cargo hatch is properly secured as he closes it.
“Me and Simmons. The rest will remain on the ground and wait for the next plane. It should be here within two hours or so.”
Niko’s eyes lock with mine. The slightest of nods follows. “Think you can give us a ride? We are headed south to inspect some stock, that’s why we were nearby and available. It will save us quite some time.”
Confusion crosses over the pilot’s face. “You are headed to Darien Ridge, too?”
Oh, so that’s where the plane is going.
Niko hums, raising one eyebrow. “Sort of? I can’t really say more, I’m afraid. But you’d be doing us a giant favor if you took us with you.”
He’s so bluffing. Darien Ridge is on the border between Panama and Colombia, if I’m not wrong. But we are headed to Mexico, I think, so this means Niko is probably going to make the pilot take a detour at some point.
The five men glance at each other. They all look a little uncomfortable with Niko’s request. He takes out a wad of cash from the bag with our things. I hold my breath.
“Sure, why not? You can sit at the back,” the pilot eventually says, shrugging while he eyes the money with greed.
“Sweet. Thanks, buddy.” Niko hands him the bribe and pats him on the shoulder. Then he gives each of the rest the same amount of cash. If I had to guess, there’s at least ten thousand in total. “Let’s get going so we don’t make you any more late than you already are.”
We board the plane through the front. The cockpit looks small and cramped, and to reach the cargo hold, we have to go through a sturdy metal door and the tiniest corridor-like area. There’s another, smaller door, which most likely is the lavatory, some shelves bolted to the wall and floor, a jump seat for a single person, and what looks like a single parachute under it. Crates and pallets, like the ones we delivered, fill up the space, some bigger than others.
The pilot leads us to a couple fold-down jump seats further down the sidewall. “The ride should be smooth, but in case it gets bumpy. And it will get cold, too. I hope you didn’t underdress.” He holds the seatbelts attached to the wall and waves them around.
“Thanks, buddy.” Niko bumps him with an elbow.
After a nod, the man disappears into the front of the plane. A couple of minutes pass and the Boeing 727 starts shaking as the three beautiful Pratt & Whitney JT8D engines I witnessed outside come to life. Their roar is deafening, and the vibration makes my teeth clatter. I’ve flown a few times prior to the accident that took my family, but this feels different, especially once we start moving. It’s like everything will come apart any moment now from the rocking, which is so violent, I feel it in my bones.
The cargo plane speeds down the runway, shaking and growling like a beast about to go on a rampage. I start my count. I always count during takeoff because I have a secret.
I’m actually a little afraid of flying, and the rotation phase almost always causes me to suffer a panic attack unless I use one of my coping tricks. Hence the counting.
Placing my hands on the two sides of my head, I squint my eyes shut as I pass five. On average, a takeoff can take anywhere between forty and fifty-five seconds,depending on the plane’s size and how full it is, so fifty is usually my ballpark. Forty-five more seconds then, and I will be able to breathe a little easier, once the worst part is over.
Niko says something, his hand skimming my shoulder. But with the noise and my focus on counting, I ignore him, reaching thirty while he continuously tries to get my attention. And then I feel it, that telltale lurch in my stomach, that momentary sensation of free-falling through air. It only lasts a few disorienting heartbeats, but with no window to look out from and make sure I’m not actually falling, it feels ten times stronger than what I remember.
“Tommy?” I catch Niko saying and pop one eye open. His eyebrows are drawn together, and his lips are pressed into a line. I think he’s worried, I’d probably be too if the person next to me suddenly stopped responding.
As much as I want to dispel that concern from his face, I can’t risk a distraction or I might suffer a panic attack. I squeeze my eyes shut again. Just a couple more seconds, I promise, just until the plane levels off.
“Fuck, Thomas! Please say something!” he pleads, his voice confused and afraid. It rips me apart how genuinely scared he sounds, like he really might care about me.
And then it feels that way too as his hands grasp mine, which are still pressed to my cheeks. He pulls me into his muscular chest like I am a precious thing, and I almost die right there and then as he softly whispers my name into my ear.
Becauseshiiit, this feels amazing. I soak up the touch, lean into it, absorb his warmth seeping into my skin through the physical contact we share. Something warm and fuzzy comes to life in my chest, chasing away thattakeoff anxiety.Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is so nice. I haven’t been hugged so tightly in ages, my name said so softly.
I sigh, content and slightly buzzing. I am in Heaven. Niko pushes off me, but not fully, just enough so he can pin me with that pretty brown gaze. Hints of fear still swim in it, breathtaking and lovely.
A lump forms in my throat.Damn, I was serious when I offered to blow him that night without even knowing who he was or what kind of a person he is. But now? He could ask for the craziest thing and I’d gladly do it.
“Tommy, are you with me?” he pleads, his eyes not leaving mine. His breathing has elevated and his shoulders have stiffened, but when his hand strokes my cheek, it does it with heart-stopping tenderness.
