Free Taker by Patrick Wong

breathe. After taking a moment, Nicole opened her hands and released it all into Allen Kreschkensky.
    Raymond felt the hijacker’s fingers loosen from around his neck, and with a gasp of air, he saw his assailant buckle over and begin to wheeze.
    “Raymond, now!” Drake cried. He dragged Allen off the pilot’s seat and out of the cockpit. Raymond took control.
    The plane emitted a wheeze of its own as it pulled up and out of harm’s way.
    There was no time to lose, and Raymond knew his first priority.
    “Orlando, this is Flight 91. We have resumed control of the aircraft. Repeat. Friendlies have control of the aircraft!” Raymond shouted.
    After a few tense seconds, one of the fighter jets pulled along the side of the cockpit so Raymond could see the fighter pilot. He then gave Raymond a quick salute, and a visible thumbs-up.
    Nicole had done it.
    With her adrenaline now ebbing, Nicole felt her knees shaking a little beneath her. She took a few unsteady steps as she supported herself out of the cockpit and into the cabin. She and Ben shared a moment of relieved eye contact.
    The ding of the PA system sounded across the cabin, and the pilot’s grin was audible as he spoke.
    “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls — this is your new captain speaking. My name is Captain Raymond, and I’m one of the good guys. This plane is back under control. We got him!” Raymond declared jubilantly.
    Massive applause and cheers erupted from the passengers. All those who moments before had been facing the prospect of certain death had now had their lives restored.
    All apart from Allen, who was struggling to breathe. Eyes still bulging, veins pumped with the malevolent chemicals that had fueled his desperate hijack attempt, he was coughing in agony as Drake manhandled him out of the cabin and onto the front row of seats.
    But it was Nicole he glared up at. He had seen the look on her face as he’d felt the rot curl into his body.
    “What have you done?” he moaned. “All I wanted was to help my family, so they wouldn’t have to worry about money again.”
    “For all these people’s lives?”
    “You’ll know when you have kids.” He gave a sickened cough then, some fluid lifting from his ailing lungs. “Now I’m gonna rot in jail.”
    “Maybe, but not for long,” Amy replied.
    Allen fixed his bulbous, almost hopeful gaze on the girls.
    “No,” Amy continued, “you’ll be dying from lung cancer. Prognosis: two to four months, tops.”
    Shock clouded Allen’s gaze. “How … ?”
    The ding from the cockpit interrupted him.
    “This is your new captain speaking again …”
    The cabin erupted once more, like a crowd at a rock concert. Nicole, Amy, Ben and Drake exchanged exhilarated but exhausted smiles.
    “Now, I do have a little good news and a little bad news. The bad news is that we’re not allowed to land at Orlando International as planned. We are being diverted to a nearby military base.” Raymond paused, letting the cabin quiet down as the passengers digested the bad news.
    “But the good news is, we are landing. So fasten your seatbelts and prepare for the best damn landing you’ve ever had in your life!” Raymond seemed to be relishing this moment and playing up to the crowd.
    The cabin gushed into enthusiastic cheers and whistles again. “Ray-mond! Ray-mond! Ray-mond! …”
    At the very back of Flight 91, Ed Hofmeier, coughing from too much oxygen in his suddenly healthy lungs, ripped off his mask and gave his wife a huge kiss.

One of the Good Guys
    N icole returned to her row, grabbed a blanket and pillow from the overhead compartment, and sank back into her seat. Now she was like any of the other passengers again and could allow herself some time to relax. She felt the landing gear detach beneath her and listened to the customary dings from the cockpit that let the flight attendants know to buckle up. They weren’t looking too worse for the wear at first glance, though, upon closer