The Girl Behind The Screen

Chapter Twenty Eight: Turbulance

"Sometimes you have to get knocked down lower than you've ever been to stand up taller than you ever were."
- via Pinterest

Song Suggestion: Superman - Rachel Platten

There were four sets of white leather seats on the private jet. Jake and I chose the set at the left side towards the back. I sat at the extreme back and he sat across me, his back facing the front side of the jet.

"Hello, I'm Dave and I'll be your pilot. Enjoy the flight," the pilot said.

I smiled to his face but as he turned my facial expression darkened. That was not our pilot. Jake looked like he didn't suspect a thing. Can't blame him though, he didn't see a picture of our pilot.

'Jake," I whispered and he was a "little" distracted by the Chinese air hostess flirting with him. Ugh, boys. I kicked him in the shin I hadn't hurt earlier.

"What?" he said, annoyed.

"Instead of flirting with the enemy, maybe you should focus on the fact that "Dave" is not our pilot," I whispered, rolling my eyes in annoyance.

His eyes widened and I sarcastically smiled at him and moved my eyes to signal that Dave was walking towards us. "Hello, I just wanted to inform you that we'll be taking off in a few minutes," he smiled. I mirrored his smile and started to tap on the wooden arm rest of my seat. My eyes bounced to Jake to silently signal him that I'm trying to send him a message. Mors code.

Although my message was two words, boy was it enough for us to be on our guard.

He's armed.

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It was an hour into the flight and we still kept our guard on. We had to pretend we didn't have any suspicions of Dave and Ming Wa, yeah that's the "air hostess'" name.

Dave then came out of the control centre. "You two enjoying the flight?" he asked us, that fake smile playing on his face.

"Ye-" but before I could even say the word fully, he cut me off.

"Can I get you guys anything to drink?" I shook my head but Jake, being the idiot he is replied yes. I put my one hand on my forehead and gently shook my head.

As Dave reached for a glass I saw a flash of silver. A knife.

"Dave, how is it that you're not flying the plane?" I asked.

"The other pilot told me to check how you were doing," he smiled at me before pouring soda into a glass. I sent a coded message to Jake.

Pandora's Box.

This meant that all hell was about to break loose.

"I didn't know their was another pilot, we're weren't informed of the change," I shrugged.

"Huh, some grand communication system we have," he joked, "sorry about that."

"No problem."

"So what are two kids like you doing on a private jet?" he asked, trying to pry information out of us but made it look like he was trying to make conversation.

"Why do you ask?" I questioned.

By this stage he was behind the bar and I was on the receiving side. Jake was still seated.

"Trying to break the ice," he told me.

"Oh, just a pair of rich kids, nothing much to say," I lied.

"You mean, you can't say or you won't," he accused.

"It doesn't concern you anyway," I defended us.

"Oh, the other pilot said we'd be receiving some turbulence soon," Dave said, his façade looked like it was about to crumble.

I then smiled in a sickly sweet way as my hands reached for the tips of my pockets so it looked like they were on my hips.

"I don't think that's the only turbulence we're about to receive."