The Woman from the Plane [Lost Fanfiction]

Prologue: The Passenger

"Do you have any seats left flight 815?" the woman asked impatiently, tapping her passport on the ticket counter.

"I'm afraid not ma'am, but we do have a later flight, I can pull that up for you."

"No—it needs to be 815."

"I'm sorry, there aren't any—"

"It's fine," she interrupted, "I'll be back." She scanned around the terminal, looking for someone pliable. An older couple was looking for the right place to check in—but that wouldn't be right. There was a man in a wheelchair—but she couldn't ask him, and she needed two tickets. A Korean couple was arguing by the escalator—a possibility, though she wasn't sure either of them would speak English.

She noticed a younger couple in an intense conversation. The woman was tan and thin with dirty blonde curls. Her dark-haired boyfriend looked enthralled by her every word. They were an easy mark—trying too hard to look successful. "You two," she snapped. They looked up.

"Are you on Oceanic 815?"

"Yes," the man answered.

"I will pay you both $500 if you switch to the next flight to LA."

They looked at each other. "Are you serious?" asked the blonde woman.

"I really need to be on that flight," she explained.

"What do you think, Nikki?" the man asked.

"I mean we can just take the next flight? And it's $1,000, Paolo. We could use the money."

"Okay—but make it $1,000 each, and we'll do it."

Nikki rolled her eyes.

The woman barely reacted. "Fine."

"Do you have it in cash?"

She nodded, and reached into her backpack, pulling out a billfold. She counted the money out discretely and held it out to them. The man reached for it, but she pulled it away.

"We talk to the ticket lady first."

She marched them back up to the counter. The attendant looked mildly annoyed.

"They'll switch to the next flight," she said, tilting her head in their direction.

"Are you sure?" the attendant asked the couple.

"We made a deal," Paolo replied.

The attendant rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said. "What's your information?"

They handed her the tickets, and she typed their details into the machine.

"There will be a three-hundred-dollar fee to change your seats—are you sure you want to do this."

"Yes," Paolo replied, nodding.

"You're all set, then" the attendant told the couple, handing them newly printed tickets. "You'll leave about four hours later."

The woman shook Paolo's hand, passing him the wad of bills. "Thank you. You won't regret this, trust me."

He frowned at her, and walked away into the terminal, one hand on Nikki's back.

"Alright ma'am. Let me see your passport. We'll get you on this flight."

She reached into her backpack and selected a passport. She quickly glanced at the information before handing it to the attendant.

The attendant looked at the picture and back at the woman, confirming that the pretty, professionally dressed young woman the passport photo was the same person as the scowling, sunburnt traveler standing in front of her in a black tank top and drab cargo pants.