Rachel Yan (11) | STAFF REPORTER
Today was his eightieth try to board the plane.
Jeff had been trying to catch a very specific flight for the past half a year. It happened every 48 hours; the location and departure time always changed, and he had to find the plane anew each time. Sometimes it was in the morning and sometimes it was at night. After every failure, Jeff went back to his motel – he checked in to a new one each week – to plan for the next attempt.
Seventy-nine tries, and not a single success. Each time, he was caught. Sometimes it was at the luggage check, and sometimes by the customs officer. Once he got as far as the boarding bridge before the agent had realised something was off and called security on him.
But that would not happen today. Yes, Jeff thought. He had a very good feeling about today.
He went through the usual motions of preparing to board the flight. He tensed a little at the luggage check, which typically relied more on chance than on his own ability to appear inconspicuous. But it passed without incident and he moved on to the boarding gate.
As the officer examined his boarding pass, Jeff tried not to fidget with his hair. He was unused to having long hair. Behind him, the next passenger set his coffee on the officer’s desk, glaring at him impatiently.
“Well, you’re good to go,” the officer said.
“Thanks.” Jeff headed towards the boarding bridge.
Behind him, he could hear the officer call. “Wait–”
He turned around. At that moment, the next passenger knocked his arm into his coffee cup in his hurry to hand over his boarding pass. The officer gave a yell as the coffee splattered over her keyboard.
With the officer occupied, Jeff hurried into the boarding bridge. Once inside the plane, he took his seat. He watched as the seats around him slowly filled with passengers.
Only when the plane began to take off did the realisation that he’d succeeded finally sink in. He had to keep himself from laughing as the announcement that refreshments would be served sounded.
Jeff leaned back in his seat, staring out at the clouds in satisfaction. After all his plotting, all the time and money spent searching for clues, deciphering scraps of ruined texts, and bribing rogue magicians, he had finally been rewarded. All of his crimes had led up to this. He was on his way to the fabled land at last. It had all been worthwhile in the end.
The drink trolley reached his seat. “Anything you want, ma’am?” the flight attendant asked.
Jeff peered at the cabinets on the cart, looking for signs of some exotic otherworldly drinks. “Uh, do you have ginger ale?”
“Unusual choice, but sure.” He pulled out a plastic cup and filled it with the soda. As the man handed the cup to Jeff, he paused and peered at him strangely. “Hey, it’s you.”
“What?” Jeff tried to sound nonchalant.
“You’re the man who’s been so doggedly trying to get on our planes the past few months.” The attendant chuckled. “Do you have any idea how much of a nuisance you are to the security department? Mind you, it hasn’t been difficult stopping you, but at least you kept up a good fight. I must admit I admire your spirit.”
Jeff tried to hide his consternation. All his efforts, and all he was considered to be was a mild nuisance to these stuck-up magicians? “Well, I’m here now.”
“Yes, you are.” The man stared at him for a second. “Well, enjoy your flight. I’d treasure every moment if I were you.”
Jeff paused. “What do you mean? Doesn’t this plane go to paradise?”
The attendant laughed. “Why do you think we didn’t stop you? This is the one that takes you to the other place.”
“But– how?” Jeff stammered. “I calculated the right terminals and all…” He looked around the plane, and got a sick feeling as he noticed the softly glowing chains around each of the passengers’ wrists for the first time.
“Your research has been impressive.” He shook his head. “But if it had been just a bit more extensive, you would have known not to board on the equinox.”
Jeff thought of all the people he had killed to assume their form and identities. All of the eighty men and women. As he stared down at his manicured hands, he remembered the most recent one; a twenty-five year old Micaela Lawrence from Wisconsin. “Wait–”
The man winked at him. “Enjoy your flight, sir.”
