My Father My Hero

Freefall

The shots were unheard by the other passengers. The silencer on the nose of the pistol made sure that only a faint cough was heard. The fact that most others were sleeping also helped.
James remained seated. Shock stricken and unable to move. The pilot was still smiling. He seemed completely calm.
"Hello James. Remeber me?" He questioned.
"Yes." James replied.
"You dented my car." He joked.
"You dented my bike." James wasn't going to be scared by this man. No matter what he was going to stand his ground.
"You seem like a good kid but sadly I'm going to have to kill you. No hard feelings." He said. From the way he spoke,he felt no remorse.
The gun was brought up to the teenager's head. James could already hear the sound of the bullet's propulsion, feel the sting as it penetrated his skull. He could practically see the tiny object as it tore through the neurons and tissues that made up his brain and even smellt the gun powder which would radiate from the silencer. He could taste the blood as it ran down the side of his face and into his mouth. Of course none of this would be possible. He would be dead before his brain realised it. Quick and painless but death nonetheless.
The cockpit door opened once more. Thus time it was the first officer who had stepped out. Then gun was quickly hidden and the killer turned his attention to the man who helped him fly the plane.
The silencer may have snuffed out the sound but the blood stains were cleary visible.
The first officer stared in shock while the assassin racked his brain for an explanation. He was distracted. James saw the opportunity and took it.
He ran down the aisle heading towards the back. James had no idea what he was going to do. Stuck on a plane with a muderous lunatic. Right now all he wanted was to get as far away from him as possible. He came to a door and, praying it was open, turned the handle. Relived as the door opened, he sped on down a spiral staircase. At the bottom of the staircase was a huge room that seemed to double back the length of the plane. It was filled with black bags, suitcases and boxes all held together by nets. This was the baggage hold.
There was the clang of a boot on metal and James was off. The ground where he stood just milliseconds ago was ripped apart by bullets. He ran and took a knee behind a solid looking crate.
"James! You're dead!"the assasin yelled.
James didnt know what to do he looked around for something, anything that would help him out of this. A row of white bags caught his eye. They were right next to a heavy duty door. This may have been because those were not just bags, they were parachutes.
"You made me kill my first officer, I really liked that guy. And now I'll kill you."
At that moment James realised something. If he ever wanted to get out of that plane alive, he'd have to jump. With a bit of a running start, he slid low across the line of fire and perched behind another crate. Bullets whooshed over him. If he had simply ran, he'd have been a lump of fresh meat in the aisle. Quickly, he pushed up a lever, twisted a knob and pulled in hard. To his delight, the door opened.

Lucâ Bervesck was an ex operative of the K.G.B. One of their best agents actually; he was accused of friendly fire and dishonorably discharged. After a stint as a police officer back home in the miniscule country of Luxembourg, he went off radar and appeared 3years later when every organism involved in his trial and prosecution was found dead in the judge's home pool, blood replacing the water. And here he was now, assigned to kill a young boy. Suddenly, a gust of wind filled the baggage hold and a bright light filled the cabin. Lucâ realised what was happening.

It was too late, James steadied himself. All fear dissapeared. He didn't leap, he didn't jump, he simply stepped off.