A man stared back, his face contorted with confusion and fear. Tom recoiled. With his hands bound, though, he only managed to put a few inches between them. His eyes darted around what appeared to be the hold of an old military plane. At least, that’s what he thought it looked like based on what he’d seen in the movies. He’d never actually been on a plane before.
Forty other men lay similarly bound around him. Some were still lying down, unconscious, while others had managed to sit up. Everybody was in rough shape. Stubble, rumpled clothes. Tom took in a breath and almost gagged. Damn.
He rolled onto his back to release the pressure on his left arm, which had fallen asleep. A sharp pain shot through his shoulders as he rolled onto his bound hands. He quickly flopped back onto his side and sucked in a deep breath as a wave of dizziness washed through him.
He managed to wiggle his way into a sitting position. His stomach gave another painful lurch. God, he was hungry. He glanced to his left and met the eyes of the man who’d rolled into him. He’d also managed to work his way to a sitting position.
Tom swallowed a few times, trying to get some moisture into his mouth before he spoke. “Where are we?” He was shocked by how weak his voice sounded.
The man shrugged nervously, his eyes wide. “No idea. Last thing I remember, I was on my way to visit my parole officer. Two guys jumped me and threw me into a van. Next thing I know, I’m waking up here.”
Tom struggled to think through the molasses of his thoughts. “I was leaving my P.O. and hurrying to catch my bus. And then this.”
He looked at the rest of the men that littered the cargo hold. They were different races and ages, but most were dressed like him: old jeans, t-shirt, a light jacket or sweater.
And they had one other thing in common: they’d all been in prison. He was sure of that. Some had tats that gave them away. Others just had that attitude. Once a guy had done time, there was something stamped on him that he could never shake.
Small windows rimmed the fuselage. Getting to his feet on shaky legs, he weaved his way through the mass of prone bodies until he reached one. My first time in a plane, he thought in disbelief.
Panic began to overwhelm the confusion in Tom’s mind. It’ll be okay. You’ll figure this out. The words sounded good, but they weren’t doing much to reduce the fear bubbling in his chest.
He stared out the window as if the answers to his current situation were somehow hidden behind the clouds. He remembered heading for the bus after leaving his P.O.’s office. He’d been worried he was going to be late for choir practice, and he’d really wanted to see Cleo. He’d picked up his pace so he wouldn’t miss the bus. And then what?
He struggled to recall. I walked down Jordan Street, cut down the alley behind the Civic Center, and then… His head jolted upright. And then some guy stepped from behind a dumpster wielding a knife.
He’d turned to run, only to find another man behind him. He’d felt a sharp pain and then everything went black.
He couldn’t remember much after that, but he knew he’d been conscious on and off. He’d been in a warehouse. He recalled being allowed to use the bathroom and then being stuck with a needle and forced back into the black. He recalled two other moments of brief lucidity as well. One was in a truck, and the other must have been at the airfield. He’d heard planes both times. He struggled to make sense of it. He could have been out for days. What the hell was going on?
An hour later, Tom was no closer to answering that question. He watched the clouds give way to a landscape of ice-capped mountaintops and green fields, followed by a plateau of flat barren land. He only saw one small town and a handful of houses. Wherever they were, there sure weren’t a lot of people.
Tom felt the plane jolt. The pilot must have lowered the landing gear. He strained to see farther out the window. He saw the same barren land broken up by fields of green. What he didn’t see, though, was anything even remotely resembling an airport. As far as he could tell, they were landing in the middle of nowhere.
As the descent became steep, he began to slide towards the front of the plane. On the other side of the plane, he saw a man turn around and grab a strap attached to the side of the plane that was used to secure cargo. Tom followed his example, as did the handful of men who had taken up positions at the other windows.
His shoulders ached, but he knew he got off lucky compared to the men in the middle of the hold. With nothing to hold onto, they crashed into one another as the plane bumped and bucked to a landing.
Almost as soon as the engine stopped, the giant cargo door at the back of the plane began to open. Tom stared at it with a mixture of fear and curiosity. He braced himself, knowing whatever came through those doors was not going to be friendly.