ATLAS 776

6

"You will miss the dark." Adrianna's voice echoed. Marx was in a white room, with nothing around him. Marx reached his hands out, when out of nowhere a bloodied hand grabbed his right arm and squeezed. Marx shouted in shock and terror.

Marx opened his eyes wide, while breathing in heavy steps. He looked around his seat and tried to orient to his surroundings. There were loud cackles of lightning heard, and a constant streaming sound of rainwater pouring onto the metallic hull of the plane.

Marx used his left hand to push the window cover up, which revealed a storm outside.

"Sir, would you please buckle your seatbelt for your safety?" A soft voice was heard.

Marx turned to the right to notice a flight stewardess leaning over and talking to him. She gestured towards the seat belt with her hands.

Marx fumbled around the seat, acquiring the leather straps and tracing them to the ends. Marx buckled up hastily, and immediately asked the stewardess. "Miss, where is my wife?"

The stewardess closed her eyes and opened them, inhaling a little harder. "Mister, this is not the time. There is a storm going on and the plane is experiencing turbulence. We will get back to this after we pass the storm."

Marx felt a sudden rush of worry. "No, my wife! She uhh... She left her seat, she could be in the restroom!" Marx said, as he clutched the armrests.

The storm was still raging on, a poetic sound of rain and thunder.

The stewardess walked away.

Marx's eyes followed her movement, and he shouted. "Hey! Stop!"

The family in the middle row all turned to look at Marx.

Another stewardess heard the commotion, and approached the troubled man, holding onto the seats along the aisle to support her when the plane rocked.

The stewardess approached Marx and smiled at him. She said "Sorry, sir. What may be the problem you are facing?"

Marx swallowed his saliva, and replied. "My wife... I think she is in the restroom... Could you help me check?"

The stewardess looked towards the restrooms. "Sir, most of the restrooms are empty. There is one occupied, but..."

Marx immediately unbuckled, and stood up from his seat. The stewardess gestured him to sit, while the rest of the passengers in the cabin all looked at the situation unfolding with curious eyes.

"No... I need to know that she is there..." Marx demanded, with stern eyes and a firm tone. The stewardess forced a smile, and replied in a polite manner. "Sir, if you would please sit back down and buckle up, I will check the restrooms for your wife."

Marx looked down, and controlled his anxiety. "Okay... Okay... I am over reacting. She's in the restroom..
Okay... Ooh." He said, as he sat back on the soft blue cushion and buckled. Marx relaxed himself, while the stewardess excused herself to find the other stewardess.

Marx closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them back up, with a shocked look on his face. He rummaged through the seat pockets, feeling the flight brochures and magazines. He then bent over, trying to see under the seat compartments.

A worried look came back on Marx's face as he leaned towards the family. "Excuse me... Uh... Have you seen where my wife went?" He posed a questioned.

The woman, presumably the mother, looked around, and replied. "Uhm... Who?"

"The woman who was siting here! Just beside me! Uhh... Pinkish jacket, hair tied up in a bun, sharp face... The woman who was here..." Marx said.

The woman thought for a while, before she replied. "Sorry, I don't remember there being such a woman. I thought you were the only one in your row."

Her kids looked on at Marx.

Marx immediately raised his voice, with worry getting heavier on him. "Hey! You guys! You saw her, right? Remember at the gates... Uh... The woman I was with?"

The three kids shook their heads in disagreement. One of the kids spoke in a soft voice. "Are you okay?"

Marx hastily unfastened his belt, and got up from his seat. The plane rocked, and caused Marx to swing to the seat infront. Marx pushed himself off the seat, and proceeded to move down the aisle towards the restrooms.