Free Flight to Freedom (Flight Trilogy, Book 3) by Mike Coe Page A

but muted. He picked up the remote and pressed the MUTE button and adjusted the volume to low. He took a sip of coffee.
    A sense of gloom engulfed him before he could even process what he was seeing on the TV. The reporter was on location. A beautiful shot of the Pacific Ocean filled the background.
    Ryan’s heart thumped hard against the inside of his chest. More gloom accompanied by despair darkened his spirit.
    I remember . It’s the crash on July 11 , 2002 . Rex was the pilot .
    The TV cameras zoomed in on the ocean. Rescue boats, rocked by ocean swells, searched through floating debris while helicopters circled above. The camera slowly panned the hopeless scene, occasionally zooming in on pieces of wreckage as the news reporter recapped:
    “ Late last night at approximately eleven - thirty , a commercial airliner departing Los Angeles International Airport bound for New York’s JFK was shot down by U . S . fighter jets . We have been told that authorization to destroy the airliner was given after officials learned the plane was headed for a target in northern California . Numerous unsuccessful attempts to contact the pilots left officials with little doubt that the plane was under the control of terrorist hijackers .”
    He sipped his coffee, unshaken by the news, as though he expected it.
    Keri rushed into the kitchen. “RYAN! DID YOU HEAR THE NEWS!?”
    He calmly turned to her. “Yeah, one of our planes crashed last night.” He took another sip of coffee.
    “IT WAS SHOT DOWN! DID YOU HEAR ME? SHOT DOWN!”
    I wish she would stop screaming . I can’t enjoy my coffee .
    He said without emotion, “I know…blew it out of the sky. Everyone died.” He paused. “Listen, what did you have planned today? I thought we might drive out to the cemetery and put some fresh flowers on Rex and Emily’s graves. How does that sound to you?”
    Her tone had lowered just below a scream. “What! Are you crazy? What graves are you talking about?”
    He pointed to the TV. “Theirs.”
    “Who?”
    “Rex…and of course Emily…we can’t forget Emily…after all, she was murdered last night. So, we should pick up enough flowers for both graves. I was thinking some carnations would be nice, or maybe some roses. We want to make it look nice.”
    “Ryan, you are freaking me out! What are you talking about?”
    He pushed back from the table, moved to the coffee maker, and slowly poured a fresh cup of coffee. As he poured, he calmly said, “You’ll see…just keep watching.”
    * * *
    “Ryan…how do you feel?”
    “Keri,” he groaned, “I really need to sleep right now.”
    “Honey, you have been asleep for two hours. I just came to check on you.”
    He opened his eyes.
    Where am I ?
    “Did you say two hours?”
    “Actually it’s been a little longer than that. I left the bedroom about six-fifteen and it’s almost eight-thirty now.”
    I’m still in the same place and time .
    “I don’t understand.”
    “ What don’t you understand?”
    He thought for a minute. “My dream.”
    Why was the dream in 2002 and not 1974 ?
    “What was your dream about?” she said.
    This is not good . The number theory didn’t work .
    “It was all wrong.” He sat up. A part of him was still in Neverland. “I dreamed a plane crashed and somehow I knew Rex was the pilot of the plane. The same people responsible for the crash murdered Emily.”
    “Wow! That sounds like a night horror, not just a dream.”
    He looked her in the face. “It was sooo real, but it was all wrong.”
    “How can a dream be wrong?”
    I can’t explain it to her .
    “ You came screaming into the room…hysterical, while I sat calmly at the kitchen table drinking coffee. I didn’t seem to be concerned about the crash at all. I don’t understand.”
    She stroked his thick, brown hair. “I’m sorry you had a bad dream, but that’s all it was…a bad dream.”
    “Are we still in California?” The moment he asked the question, he already knew.
    “What