King of The Rats

Chapter 2

"Lydia was supposed to be the love of my life, it was us forever", desperately began Mr. Seth, with his hand on his forehead and his eyes meeting their counterparts at his reflection on the black screen. Although his voice and character were different, warmer, and a lot calmer, he maintained the same disposition of sorrow.

Meanwhile the tension I felt kept brewing, forcing me to be unresponsive to his statement physically or verbally, pushing the silence to assert itself once more.

"You know the funny thing about relationships, when you let someone else become such a major part of your life, the second they leave, you feel a hole forming bigger than the one you started with, and no matter what you do you can't fill the void so you cover it, and the only covers you get are alcohol and drugs and once those wear off… once those wear off you sink even lower", he adds on, "But unlike those pathetic idiots, I know how to fix it, I know how to fix her", the gun presses on my side even harder as he finishes his thought, exposing a larger part of it from under the blanket.

The shock starts to lift off so my thoughts start racing again and my limbs regain functionality.

"Is-" I start to speak but he interrupts me with his quiet announcement

"This is your fault"

"If you hadn't noticed the gun, I would've changed my mind … yeah … I would've changed my mind and gone back home. You did this, it's all your fault"

I wonder if it's true, if anything would be different had I not adjusted the part of the blanket that spewed over my armrest. I wonder if it really is because of me and this Lydia person that forty lives are at stake. Then a specific thought overwhelms the rest. I was merely at the right place at the right time, this is Lydia and her ex's fault, I was only placed here to prove I can save myself, to prove I can save others just as well. I didn't do anything wrong, if anything, I did right just by buying a ticket to this seat.

I find his bafflement at my suggestion ironic, he just stares into my eyes like I'm the hostage-taker.

They say arrogance blinds us from the truth but I think that it's merely a gateway to it, only the arrogant is confident enough to confront his inquisitive mind, and mine is asking me if this flight can land the way it took off. Counting on this belief, I once again use arrogance to overshadow my fear.

"Why don't you wait until we land and then kill her so that no one else gets hurt?" I re-enunciate.

My face strives to remain expressionless as my captor's face molds into anger from its previous state. His gun and my side become one, while his left-hand plants a grip on my collar, creasing it so tightly that my neck tilts upwards to make our faces oppose one another. His knee climbs up the seat until his abdomen is above it, making his body tower over mine in posture. But before he can say anything we both notice the flight attendant pullback the staff room curtain to push the food cart down the aisle. As Mr. Seth seats himself again, his hand lets go of my shirt and fixes the gun's cover instead, which maintains its position just as securely. Simultaneously he turns back to me and guides my eyes to his now concealed weapon, before turning his attention to his screen as it's booting up. The dark blue interface takes over the darkness with the selection of an animated movie called "King of the Rats" front and center, a classical piece about escapism, and as the white glow from the airline logo, Osiris Air, under the screen bounces off his dead eyes, dread takes over me again.

Deceitful is the sweet aroma of the Osiris chicken salad, it gushes over all the scents in its proximity as the stewardess makes her way through. She's wearing the green, with two white stripes, Osiris uniform skirt with her brunette hair in a semi-covered bun, she keeps a warm red smile on her face while canvassing the two aisles on each side. Her beat-down cart struggles to keep a straight trajectory, with one wheel almost off its hinge, and tape holding its top compartment together. The logo reads on both sides, although one more decrepit than the other, "Osiris Air'' with the "O" being the pupil of a light green eye, followed by "siris" and "air" stacked underneath it. No previous passenger of this airline would be surprised at the degrading condition of the cart, considering they've probably seen the same if not worse before. Osiris Air is a privately owned airline and plane manufacturer that takes worn down airplanes and turns them into affordable tickets for those wanting to save a couple of hundred bucks, most of their flights come with the guarantee of mediocrity, duct tape, and a long trip (because of the scrappy design, the planes were banned from flying over multiple nations in fear of a crash). Weirdly, it provides a sense of community to know that everyone else on a flight has agreed to take the same risk in exchange for low prices.

She does the classic flight attendant squat right next to her cart when she finally comes to a stop at the row ahead of us. Facing her is a fit middle-aged man in an olive green shirt, and beside him is his luggage resting on the window seat. She chooses to say nothing about the wrong placement of his luggage after noticing it and instead extends her arm to the control panel in front of him to turn off the overhead assistance light.

"Did you want your dinner already sir?"

He brings his head down closer to the name tag on her chest and asks, "Tessa, is it? "

"Tess"

"No I didn't want my dinner, it's these two assholes behind me that I wanna talk about. Is it not enough that I had to pay for a full row just to sit alone, now I have to deal with these shit bags being loud, they keep talking and rattling on and on as if no one around them is trying to get sleep" He announces with no regard for anyone else on the flight, drawing unnecessary eyes in our direction.

The whiny middle-aged man throws his shoulder over his seat to make eye contact with the both of us as he continues.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you shitbags, if you want to talk so much go to therapy, no one here wants to hear about your sad lives, better yet-"

"Please calm down sir, and I'll see what I can do about this. Would you like to move to one of our vacant seats for the time being?"

"Either get me a seat in this area that I paid for or move these idiots away from me", he says hurriedly as he puts his headphones back on to resume what he was watching, disallowing her the chance to respond.

Tess gets up and moves to the other side of the cart so that she's facing me, somehow her warm smile is still intact.

"Is everything okay here?"

I turn over to my assaulter who hasn't moved a muscle in the past couple of minutes, expecting some kind of reaction or instructions even, but instead his full attention is provided to the mute screen in front of him. We're both hostages here, in any second he can take my life but he knows that the second he does that, his changes forever. We're in control of each other's fates, and this thought that makes me tense, keeps him unbothered.

A couple of silent seconds pass before she repeats her question and I return my gaze to her, "Yes everything is fine".

We maintain a silent eye contact. She doesn't look like she believes me so if she keeps pressing the matter it will only serve to make the situation more complicated.