COMPLETED; SHORT STORY

“Take a seat ma‘am.” the passenger said gun trained on her.

“You don’t have to do this. All these innocent people and child-”

“Sit down and shut up!” he shouted in frustration.

“Ok. Ok. I’m sitting down.” she lowered herself into the seat, arms slightly raised.

“This plane is too small,” he paced. “There’s no getting it out.” the man rambled.

“Sir?”

He turned to face the flight attendant and pointed, “You. You did this to me. You gave me this-this thing in me.”

“Sir we need to get these people off the plane.” she said standing, “I’ll get you the help you need.”

“I want it out now.”

“First, let the people off the plane.”

He looked out the window onto the Tarmac  where police waited. “I don’t have time… no, I can’t do that. I can do that? Yes. Yes, get them off. He says I don’t have much time.”

“Alright. Passengers please exit to the front of the plane.”

“Slowly,” he added.

“Slowly and carefully.” She followed behind the last passenger and was stopped by his firm hand and the pointed gun at her temple.

“Not so fast love, we had a deal.” he growled, closing the plane’s door. He shoved her back against the wall, hand clamped around her throat. “You get this out of me.”

She clawed at his hands. “What… are you - talking about?” the words were choked out.

“You gave this to me, it’s in me. You poisoned my drink he told me.” he hissed.

“Who? Who’s he?’

He released his grip and stepped away rubbing his chin with the guns tip looking dazed while talking to himself. “She says no, Damon….”

“Who’s Damon?”

His now crazed eyes caused her silence. “Medical attention? I can’t I’m on a plane. Police are outside, I’m trapped. What do I do?”

“You're delusional and hallucinating sir. I think you should put the gun down and relax.” She spoke softly and moved closer.

“No. She’s lying. You're lying to me. You want me to die. Damon says you want me dead. You’re one of them.”

“I don’t want you to die. I want to help you and Damon.”

“Stay where you are. Damon I‘m trying.” he raised the gun up arguing with himself.

“You’re a schizophrenic,” she whispered to herself. “May I speak with Damon?”

He shook his head. “No, only me, Darrell.”

She nodded slowly. “Well Darrell, Damon’s wrong… I didn’t poison you but if you let the police come in they’ll help you.”

With an open palm Darrell slapped her across the face, “You will not speak of Damon that way.”

She let out a gasp of surprise holding a hand to her face.

“Damon I need to know how.” Darrell spoke to an empty seat, “The police are surely thinking of coming aboard. They can’t help us. I know, I don’t want to die either - are you sure? No, I’m not questioning you. Her name? What’s your name?”

“Rachel.” she said.

“Rachel, I need you to bleed it out of me.” Setting down the gun he pulled out a switchblade flipping it open.

“But you’ll die.” Rachel warned.

“Damon said it will save me. Now take it.”

She held out the blade in her hands and had Darrell sit down. Holding her arms out resting on the seats tray table she was uncertain. “You're certain about this?”

“Stick with the major veins love.” Darrell spoke softly looking down at his arms.

Touching his arm, she pressed down with the knife into the crease where his arm bent slicing deep through the median basilic vein letting blood flow onto the tray. Darrell stayed stolid showing no pain as he watched the wound.

“It’s coming out. We’ll be safe. What do you mean no? Not until she’s dead… why? Because she tried to kill us. Oh yes, I agree."

    Rachel listened to the rambling conversation of the middle aged man, looking to the gun laying on the nearby tray. The man now looked paler, his eyes more wild.

    Darrell started to shout battling against Damon within, picking up the switchblade digging and cutting in deeper. "It's not out? I thought it would be out." he cried.

    "Darrell. Darrell, you need to stop. Hey look at me." Rachel demanded kneeling down resting her hand over his bleeding arm. "Damon's controlling you. He isn't even real."

    "He's real. He is real. I want to save us. This poison is spreading, I feel it. I feel it yes, yes I do. And you, you must die. You doubt him. Damon says you must die for us to be safe again."

    She dove for the gun as did he, but she was faster than him as he stumbled from the loss of blood.

    "I helped you Darrell and I helped Damon too, but you're sick and we need to get you to a hospital," she reasoned.

    "We're not sick, love. Damon and I are only looking out for each other. He's my leader. I'm his follower." Blood ran down his now lame right arm dripping off his finger tips.

    Rachel couldn't make a run for the door from where she was positioned and neither did she dare. Holding the gun up she was weary having never used one before.

    "And you must be the final piece."

    "The final Piece?"

    "To the cure of the curse you had poisoned us with love." Darrell threw himself forward swiping the bloodied blade at Rachel.

     She went untouched pulling the trigger piercing his left lung. Bang.

     He choked out a cry of pain trying to breathe coughing up blood. Sinking to his knees his breaths were shallow, the stained circle growing larger.

    "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." she pushed him down onto his back and applied pressure crying from the shock of pulling the trigger.

    "You... saved me." he spoke with clarity for the first time.

    "No. No I didn't. Let me go get help."

    "I want to go. Death will set me free from my demons. It is my escape. Let... me ... escape... Rachel."

    "Darrell?"

    "Tell my kids that I'll be okay..."

    "Darrell?" Rachel whispered knowing the worst had happened. Darrell was dead and his blood was on her hands.