The heavy door was finally forced in...to reveal an empty cockpit. The plane was indeed on auto pilot, flying on its own.
Where is it going?
The pilot and co-pilot had been there at the beginning, and both had been male. When had they left the plane? And without being noticed...how?
"We've been hijacked!" one of the other women cried out with a panicked voice.
At the imagined implications, Gemma's heart began to pound; bile crawled up her throat, as the visions of being in terrorist's hands, hit home. She knew, once again, she was in a helpless situation where there was nothing she could do.
Her mind went blank; she couldn't even think up a decent prayer.
Oh, God...are you there?
And suddenly, a calming reassurance flooded over her spirit; peace from...somewhere. She sat back against her seat, appearing calm and collected.
"How can you be so unconcerned?" demanded Lydia. "Think of those who love us..."
"I doubt anyone will even notice I'm gone," Gemma declared bitterly, thinking of Bella. "My sister didn't even care enough to visit me in hospital. No one will realize I'm lost."
Only seconds later, while still in midair, the engines cut out. The nose of the plane started for the water. Screams immediately filled the confined space.
Her heart was in her throat. Gemma held her breath, as if doing that would give her more minutes to survive.
Lydia began to sob quietly.
"My poor baby," she moaned. "And my husband. He's been so faithful all through this; at my side constantly. He wanted to come along, but I insisted that I'd be alright. He will be so devastated; he'll blame himself. Oh, oh! I'll never see either of them again."
Gemma breathed in deeply, to calm her own rising trepidation. She had always had an unreasoning fear of drowning in water.
Defying her own inner turmoil, calmly, Gemma reached over to fasten Lydia's seatbelt, and after that her own. Then covering the younger woman's hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap, she squeezed to reassure her.
But, that only brought on the shakes. The woman's whole body convulsed as her sobs increased. Lydia grabbed at the offered lifeline, and like creatures buried alive would hang to a saving root, the two clutched hands until this should be over.
Chapter 11
The plane now sat on the surface of the water. Gemma could hear it gurgle as it settled.
Water inched over the wings...
Inside, the passengers waited in silence, their screams choked off in their throats, as resignation to their fate took over. Gemma felt numbness spread from fingers and toes, to elbows and knees, as her pounding heart continued a staccato drum roll.
The nose of the plane was the first to go under; slowly, inch by inch, the liquid rose to the windows.
Foolishly, Gemma expected the intercom to bark out orders for them to evacuate.
They are just going to let us drown?
Water crawled up the windows, shutting away the sky; covering them; submerging them. As if in slow motion, the aircraft slowly slipped beneath the sea, going down, down, ever deeper, gliding as if descending on an invisible landing strip.
Gemma could barely hold back her panic. Beside her, Lydia had fainted, yet even in her unconscious state, she clung to Gemma's hand, as if her life depended upon the junction between them.
A tear escaped the corner of Gemma's eye; her sight was going fuzzy, as if the terror she was experiencing connected to the visual. Hyperventilating, she knew she could not hold out much longer.
Submerged in the silent water, they floated lower, gliding down, as if directed in a planned landing. The bottom clunked against the seabed. Settling down on the sandy bottom, the plane creaked, gurgled. The sound of rushing water filled the confined space.
Oh, God. Oh, God...be kindhearted to us...
Gemma's panicked heart seemed to stand still; her mind drifted away in a fog of denial. Finally, mercifully, she joined Lydia, and the rest of the passengers, in the land of oblivion.
****
Distantly, Gemma became aware of movement at her side; someone had released her seatbelt; was forcing her to stand. There were men all around them, urging them toward the exit.
Lydia was already gone.
At the doorway, an accordion-like, gray plastic, tunnel was attached to the frame. As they followed along this, you could hear the slopping of the water outside, feel the sway of the flexible tubing, as they traversed it, but most of the women were presently beyond fear, living only in a haze of unreality.
Definitely of that condition, Gemma followed orders without question, not even aware of the appearance of the men moving beside them.
****
They passed into an enormous, underwater dome; Gemma could see the metal rafters miles above them, as they were forced forward along a trail below.
It was like a huge airport terminal, a way station, or landing area, where many were milling about, as if awaiting to go to their next destination.
She could see horizontal balconies, with guard rails, above, all around the large struts of the dome. These were crowded with brown skinned people, all men, with black hair and beards, dark eyes and angry features, who gawked at the women, as if appraising them like cattle.
Sprinkled among these were men of a different appearance. They seemed to be servants, carrying parcels, and packages; pairs of them toting trunks between them. Their skin was of a pale blue-white, the hair atop their heads, short; a nappy, tightly curled dark gray. But their eyes were the feature that most caught your attention. They glowed out of the darkness at you, the whites a barely discernable mauve hue; the irises either blue or greenish.
And all of them watched the women below, as if they were something to be devoured.
Gemma shivered, feeling on display, an unwelcome intruder.
Why,
