Blood Pool

Recap:

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Panic is forced into silence.

Three silver bullets penetrate her maroon clothing, blending the red of blood with the color of the cotton. Her body barely remains standing as it rests on the empty aisle seat across from her original place, and on the other side, Mr. Seth has already folded in between the seats.

Chapter 4

The red fluid defined all her face's curvature as her body slowly slipped off the cushion; a slightly thick eyebrow, an average-sized nose, full cheeks, and finally it drenched half her parted lips in what looked like red paint, confirming her death.

With its audience anticipating, her body eventually thuds into the metallic floor, left to lie in a pool of her blood. The head lined up perfectly with the end of the row ahead of hers, her brown eyes staring down the pathway to the exit of the plane. It was as if the impact of her collapse was linked to the panic that followed more than the loud gunshots themselves because, in no time, the crowd had the plane shaking.

Men, women, and the few children that were there all threw themselves into further panic, desperately waiting for help from the crew, some ducking behind the seats in front of them, others running towards the bathroom at the end of the plane, the furthest from the midpoint massacre one could go.

A luxurious pink carry-on came flying in our direction, it slammed into the exit door and landed in front of the recently vacated seat of another passenger, lucky for the thrower it fell a few inches short from the blood.

Meanwhile, the crew on board, which consists of seven members excluding the pilot and copilot, were either rushing towards the staff room at the front or rushing out of it to see what happened, neither action resembling what was shown to us in the crisis instruction video.

I on the other hand took no part in the commotion, partly because I had some intuition that the shooting was going to happen, but mainly because I was slowly spacing out. My body was still held captive in the same shocked state from the second he rose to his feet, up until now I had managed to keep my anxiety intact, but this time it was obvious. I slowly turned my head towards the defeated Seth, my eyes pointing in his general direction, but I'm not really looking at him.

He's miserable.

The black gun loosely in hand, his head shamefully tucked in between the two-seat bottoms, and his left shoulder appearing to be dislocated. His face carries nothing but remorse, as the face of a killer should.

Amidst all the confusion and fear, the pilot comes on to deliver some assurance, I tried to make out what he was saying but I felt my focus splitting between him and what Mr. Seth began to murmur, how can he be so selfish to try and comfort himself after what he just did. I don't know what Lydia did to him, or even if she did anything at all, but I know that I didn't, and neither did any of the kids or other passengers on board. What a skewed sense of justice he has, to go traumatizing many others for the fault of one.

He starts reciting his words at a slightly louder volume as he struggles to get back to his feet, "I can't kill what's not alive, but for one to die one must live, and for one to live one must die, is this the equivalent exchange law of this plane? Is death a consequence of our actions or an expression to mark their immortality?"

These words echoed through my head as I watched him stumble into the aisle, it feels like I've heard them before, but they were way too specific to have been from someone else. All these strange visions spawned in my consciousness, an unfamiliar apartment, this very same moment, and a fire. I can make out a huge grizzly bear with clumsy brown fur that seemed to be angry at something, no, angry at someone, a small child.

Even though I don't understand what any of this means, it makes me feel like I've known Joseph all my life.

"Joseph…", a whisper of this random name escapes my mouth.

I turned my head towards Mr. Seth in anticipation, I don't know for what, but I expected him to have heard me, he must've heard me. Maybe I should scream it out and see if he reacts I think to myself, but don't commit to doing it.

Instead, my hazel eyes continued to follow as his feet dragged his hunched-over body in the direction of Lydia's corpse, frightening all of those around him. At the sight of his weapon, most passengers quivered at the edges of the plane. It has been less than two minutes since he shot Lydia, but everyone on board has felt hours drain out of their lives.

BANG! Mr. Seth fired a shot at the exit door.

He missed the lock.

His body was pathetically blown back until he tripped on the carry-on that was behind him and stepped on a puddle of Lydia's blood. He stumbled close to her body before regaining balance. This inconvenience didn't bother him though, nothing seemed to bother him anymore.

He lets his gun drop to the floor after letting off one last successful shot that broke the air pressure seal on the door.

The air pressure seal on a plane is only controlled from the cockpit, it maintains the door locked at all times and makes it nearly impossible for a human to open the door without being extremely powerful, which was obviously not the case with Mr. Seth, so when we all saw him shooting at the door, our hearts sunk. This isn't a matter of revenge anymore, it's mass murder.

He stared out into the endless sky for a few seconds, he might've been admiring its red, vibrant beauty or maybe he was contemplating the choices he could've made to avoid this outcome. He could clearly see a red sea of clouds and the arch of a setting sun, so maybe he just wanted to take it in one last time, observe the freedom he's lost.

Joseph Seth opened the airplane door and was instantly sucked out and into the deadly engine right outside the window he was sitting beside, he went headfirst into a seemingly peaceful slumber. After his head was torn to pieces, the abdomen slid right in and an arm shot at the plane's exterior, only to bounce back into the unknown. When the engine fan started ripping through his lower body, his legs started spinning in the same anti-clockwise fashion as the blade until it came down to his feet, in which case a shoe came flying towards the plane and bounced off it, following a different direction than the arm that was flung before it.

His entirety, erased in a matter of seconds.

Even though his thin blood hastily splattered everywhere, for a split second, it was distinct, I was able to recognize its existence before it became one with the red sky.

One of the flight attendants came rushing out of the staff room, a tall dark-haired Asian man and slammed a beeping red light which instantly shut the emergency door. It was just in time to save the pink carry-on from being blown away, after repeatedly slamming into the seat near the exit.