Fish Fingers

Prologue

The pilot's view was obscured by a cloud. The pilot glanced at his copilot, who met his gaze at the corner of his eyes. He looked a little pale as he wiped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve.

"You okay over there, Richardson?" The pilot asked, worried.

"I have a stomachache," Richardson declared. His hand was shaky when he wiped his forehead again. He turned back to stare out the front window. "Probably those fish fingers I had for breakfast."

The pilot chuckled. "Fish don't have fingers, eh?"

The copilot smiled weakly. "I guess not, eh?" They laughed simultaneously until it was broken by Richardson's groan. The pilot glanced over to check if his copilot was alright.

Richardson was curled into a fetal position in his chair. His body convulsed as he frothed at the mouth. The pilot was helpless but to watch his copilot's seizure from across the divider. He pressed the alert button and tried to focus on keeping the plane steady. However, his concern drove him to turn his head to check up on Richardson, but he had stilled. His eyes were rolled to the back of his head and was gazing blankly. To the pilot's knowledge, he was dead.

The pilot was shaking dangerously as he shifted his eyes back to the front. A moan from beside made him jump in fright. Richardson's corpse was jerking in his seat, and his head had tilted to face the pilot.

The pilot screamed and leaned against the far side of the cabin, trying to get as far away as possible. Richardson lunged across the divider and grabbed the pilot, digging deep gashes into his arms. He bit into his shoulder as the pilot cried for his mommy.

The door slammed open as a flight attendant stepped through. "Pilot Daryl, is everything o-"

The new presence in the room distracted Richardson from Daryl. Richardson leapt towards the attendant, who screeched as he bit her on the leg. She fell backwards and out of the pilot's cabin. The passengers screamed.