He went back and forth a couple times and then sat down on the wing and stretched his legs out. This brought a predictable response from inside the plane as the people near the wing were taking selfies with him in the background. He waved and smiled again, and then put his hands behind his head and adopted a relaxed pose, like he was sitting on the back porch on a sunny day.
“What’s all the ruckus in the cabin?” Owens asked.
“Not sure,” Egan replied, “Should I go take a look?”
Just then there was a knock on the door.
“Yes?” Owens said.
Brett got up and opened the door to the flight attendant who was standing there.
“You need something, Amanda?”
“It’s Walter. He’s flying alongside the plane. That’s what has all the people excited.”
“He’s still out there?”
“Would you believe he’s sitting on the wing?”
“Just thought he’d hitch a ride?”
“Looks like it. The people are taking pictures like crazy.”
“Thanks for letting us know. I was beginning to wonder.”
A few seconds later, the pilots saw movement to the front and there was Walter, in front of the plane waving at them. They waved back and then Walter shot ahead of them.
“Fist time you’ve seen him?” Egan asked.
“Yeah, other than on TV. Never thought I’d ever see the day there would be a real superhero.”
“Me too. And to think he doesn’t even have a costume or a secret identity.”
“Did you catch any of that on video by any chance?”
“Got a few seconds on my phone.”
“Good deal. Shoot that to my phone, will you? My boy will love it.”
Egan was emailing the video clip when all of a sudden the plane banked to the right and started climbing.
“Ahoah buddy, what’s with the course change?”
“I didn’t touch anything.”
“Well, we’re in a climbing turn. Something wonky with the auto-pilot?”
“Hell if I know.”
Owens turned off the auto-pilot and grabbed the yoke, attempting to take manual control of the plane.
“What the hell? It’s not responding to anything I do. How about you?”
“No luck here either. I got no control.”
The plane leveled off, banked left, and then went into a dive. Neither pilot had any control at all. It was like the plane was flying itself and they were just along for the ride.
“Get on the radio and call this in.”
“Radio’s dead.”
“How far are we from Chicago?”
“Not more than twenty minutes under normal circumstances.”
“But this isn’t normal.”
In answer to his recent comment, the plane pulled out of the dive, banked left, then banked right, and then went into another dive.
“This is amazing,” Cat Mixon said, “You’re doing all that from here?”
“Got complete control,” Salazar said, “The pilots can’t do a thing.”
“And the other planes?”
“Same thing with them,” Salazar said, pointing to the two associates who were controlling them.
“I’d say this is a good time for our demonstration. You may start the broadcast.”
14
Larry Wilkins was in his happy place. He had steaks on the grill and he was sitting in a patio chair with a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other. It had been a rather mundane morning at the station, processing the couple crooks Walter had dropped off and dealing with a domestic dispute. He didn’t much care for getting up at 3:00 am, but the 4:00 am to noon shift he was on this week had its advantages, like being home at the grill by 1:00 in the afternoon.
One final check confirmed the meat was done to perfection, and he took everything in the house, retiring to his recliner with a steak and his beer to watch the Reds. He liked these day games when he worked this shift, since he could never stay up late enough for the night games. He put his feet up, tossed a small scrap to the dog waiting faithfully by the chair, and turned on the TV. The game was already in the second inning, but there was no score.
“Good deal, buddy,” he said to the dog, “We haven’t missed anything yet.”
The batter swung and drove a high fly ball toward deep right field.
“Come on, get outta here,” he said to the TV, and before he could see if the ball cleared the wall or not, the picture went black, and then switched to a three-way split screen, each part of the screen showing a view of the inside of a passenger jet, looking through the cockpit window. Three seconds later, a distorted voice began speaking.
“There is nothing wrong with your television. I will get you back to your regularly scheduled program shortly, after my demonstration. I am in complete control of the aircraft you see on your screen. As you can see the pilots are unable to control the planes. I am making no demands at this moment, but merely demonstrating what I am capable of, so that when I am ready to make demands, you will be ready to comply. There is no point in resisting, or even thinking you will not adhere to my demands. For now, let this demonstration stand as a warning.”
Mixon muted the microphone and said to Salazar, “Take it down. Then you can land the others. Just pick any airport and set them down.”
Wilkins watched the television in mute horror. He could see the pilots in each plane but couldn’t hear what they were saying, but their gestures made it plain what was happening. One of the planes appeared to be going into a steep dive and the pilots were struggling with the controls, trying in vain to level the plane. He picked up his phone and dialed Walter, but it went straight to voice mail. Then he rang the only other person he thought about at the moment.
“Yeah, Larry, I’m seeing it,” Stan Gordon said after one ring.
“You think this is your missing
