The cabin was rowdy, most of the commotion coming from the students—some picking chairs that suited their taste even though they all looked the same, others just wanting to sit with their cliques. Mrs. Patricia did all she could to calm them down, but they were young adults with a sense of free will.
"Behave yourselves!" Mr. Mark stepped in, causing the noise to die down. "You're not in high school anymore—you're adults now. Act like it."
Marle had heard that line so many times it now played in his head on repeat. He wondered if it was some kind of catchphrase all the lecturers in college used.
"Hmph, bunch of kids," Dante sneered as he adjusted in his seat.
"They're just excited," Marle said.
"Yeah, like some high schoolers on a field trip, right?"
Marle gave up instantly. "It's not a crime to get excited once in a while." He brought out his phone and plugged in his earpiece, blocking out the noise around him. He turned toward the window, watching the airport from high ground.
Once everyone had settled, the speaker cracked to life.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain Blake speaking. Welcome aboard flight AX372 with service to Paris. We'll be taking off shortly, so make sure your seatbelts are fastened and all your carry-ons are properly stowed. On behalf of myself and the entire crew, we thank you for flying with us today and hope you enjoy your flight."
Five minutes later, the plane began to move. It circled around the tarmac, paused, then picked up speed and lifted into the sky.
Marle looked around. Everyone seemed thrilled. He wasn't sure if it was their first time on a plane or if they were just happy the takeoff went smoothly. He felt indifferent—until he noticed Denise, two seats away, smiling.
His muscles moved on their own, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He kept staring until Denise tilted her head and caught him. He quickly turned away, accidentally knocking Dante's tablet to the floor.
"What's wrong with you, man?" Dante said, picking it up. He looked at Marle's wide eyes and deep breaths, then smirked. "If you were anyone else, I'd say you saw a ghost, but knowing you... I'd bet all my life savings it was Denise."
Marle said nothing and gripped the armrest. She probably thinks I'm a creep, he thought.
"Denise aside, look at this." Dante dropped his tablet on Marle's lap. "You said you cleared this mission, right? I know you might be tripping, but you gotta tell me—how'd you do that even when your hero got—" Dante's voice faded.
Marle turned toward Denise again. She had on her usual cold look, eyes on her phone. He sighed, put in his earpiece, and stared out the window. A reddish glow flickered in the distance, but he ignored it and shut his eyes.
His right earpiece was suddenly yanked out, jolting him awake. He realized he'd dozed off watching the clouds. His neck was stiff. He cracked it, stretched, and turned to see why the earpiece came loose—Denise was now in Dante's seat.
"What?" he whispered.
"You woke up. Sorry about that. Just wanted to know what you were on," she said, gesturing to the earpiece now in her ears.
Marle took a breath and stuttered, "It's none of the good stuff, I promise."
"Not the good stuff?" Denise looked him in the eyes—hers were auburn. "You got 'Stressed Out' by Twenty One Pilots playing and you say it's not the good stuff?" she teased, mimicking his dry tone, but failed miserably.
"Well, I didn't know you were into pop."
"Yeah, me too," she said softly, though Marle didn't catch the tone.
A silence hung between them. Denise bobbed her head to the music. Marle, meanwhile, couldn't focus on the song at all. This moment, being beside her only came once every in a blue moon. He had to make the most of it.
"So... why'd you come sit here?" he asked, his voice cracking.
"Did I commit a crime by sitting next to you?" she raised a brow.
"No, no. I was just—" Marle tripped on his words and choked.
"Everyone's asleep. There's no one to talk to and I can't sleep," Denise said without looking at him.
"Oh," he replied, sounding relieved, though his body was drenched in sweat. The scarf around his neck made things worse. Marle leaned back and turned to the window. Then it hit him—Denise was in Dante's seat.
He snapped his head back to her. "Where's Dante?"
"Ugh, I don't know, Detective Agent Marle Dickson," she said, clearly irritated.
"I'm sorry," he whimpered, folding into himself and biting his lower lip. He peeked and saw she didn't seem bothered. She kept nodding to the music. He spotted Dante now sleeping in Denise's seat across the aisle.
That bastard planned it.
Marle suddenly felt a tug on his scarf. Denise was holding it.
"This scarf… it looks like the one Mrs. Anne used to wear back in high school."
"It is," Marle replied.
"For real? This is the same scarf?"
"Why would I lie?" He loosened it and dropped it on her lap. "She gave it to me when we graduated. Said it was my graduation gift—the only one I ever got." His voice softened.
"Yeah, you two were really close back then," Denise said with a smirk.
"Close, huh?" Marle echoed under his breath. Then, looking her in the eyes, he added with a strained smile, "She was like a mother to me, not just a foster mom, my real mom." His smile faded, and so did Denise's.
They locked eyes. Marle's welled up with tears. Denise's with pity. He recognized the look—he'd seen it on every face after sharing his story.
"I'm sorry. I should have—"
"No, you didn't do anything wrong," Marle said. "You know, back during lunch, she always brought me these homemade rice crackers. They weren't tasty, I won't lie, but now…" he chuckled, "…now I swear I'd kill for one of them." They both laughed lightly. He wondered why he never talked to Denise in high school. It felt so easy now—like chatting with Dante.
Marle wanted to keep the moment going, but nature called. He stood abruptly. "Let me use the toilet. I'll be right back."
Denise nodded with a smile.
Marle walked through the cabin. Most classmates were asleep, others buried in their phones. He reached the rear and noticed a man seated near the door, his body shaking violently. Pale skin. Profuse sweat. Blue Shirt soaked.
Definitely sick, Marle thought, looking at how the man shivered. As someone who hates the cold the way vampires hates the sun, he knew the symptoms of cold better than most.
Not my problem. He shrugged, maybe the woman beside him could help. He moved on toward the toilet.
His mind drifted. Maybe talking about Mrs. Anne was a bad call. Still, he didn't regret it. Talking about her always felt right, never shameful. Fulfilling.
Lost in thought, he didn't realize he'd finished his deal. As he zipped up, a tremor hit the plane, He steadied himself against the wall as it passed. Must've been turbulence. He'd read that flights to France often experienced mild turbulence—usually harmless.
Marle turned toward the door. Just as he reached for the knob, muffled noises came from outside. He frozeand tried to pinpoint the exact side the noise came from. The sounds were vague, chaotic. He opened the door and stepped into the corridor. The noise was coming from both ends.
He focused on his side first, paced towards the door and tried the door but It wouldn't budge.
"What the hell…?"
Through the small window, he saw someone standing still blocking the view. Marle banged on the door.
"Hey! Someone's in here—open up!"
It must've been a mistake, he thought. But those loud shouts and cries bugged him, especially when it was coming from the side everyone was seated, where Denise was.
Few seconds passed and he noticed the person hasn't moved. He was about to bang the door again when a tiny voice came from behind.
"She said I shouldn't come out. Sh saaid I should stay in here."
Marle turned slowly. A little girl sat near the other door, clutching a stuffed bear. Her clothes were torn, eyes wide with terror.
"Who said that?" he asked gently.
"The pretty plane lady," the girl answered, voice trembling.
"What happened?" he asked, walking up to her. "What's going on in there?"
She hesitated. "I don't know. I was sleeping… then everybody started beating each other."
That answer took him even further from understanding. What kind of disagreement would lead to that?
"Where are your parents?"
"The pretty plane lady is my mom," she said proudly—then her smile faded, maybe remembering the situation at the other side of the door.
Marle walked back to the door and banged harder. The figure jolted and slowly turned.
A bloodstain ran down his shirt and chin. His skin was white. Eyes red. Mouth dripping with blood.
"Shit…" Marle staggered back. His thoughts went blank. Then they rushed in back—Dante, Denise, his classmates, the teachers. What happened to them?
He looked at the girl, ran to her, and stretched out his hand.
"Come."
She grabbed it. They shared a look. Then Marle turned to the other door—the one she had leaned against. It was covered by a curtain. Hopefully safe.
He opened the door.
Inside were more attendants— five in number and just like the man before, They all had Pale skin, Red eyes, Bloody mouths. They snarled and moved mechanically turning their heads towards them
"Fuck!" Marle tried to retreat, but the plane tilted sharply downward. He, the girl, and three of the attendants were flung into the corridor. Marle shielded her as he slammed into the door.
No time to grunt—one of the attendants landed on them. Blood and mucus dripped from its mouth. It stretched its hand in attempt to grab Marle, it looked very hungry. Marle kicked it back, using his leg to keep it at bay.
It snarled and stretched toward his face again. With one swift move, Marle swept his leg and sent it crashing into a toilet stall.
He grunted, picked up the crying girl, and ran into another toilet. He bolted the door sharply and sank to the floor, clutching her tightly. He didn't care about the noise she made nor the flesh hungry attendant at the opposite toilet.
The plane was falling, a child in his arms, blood on his face. And nothing left to hold onto. Marle only thought of one thing: how much longer before they hit the ground?