Free Four Past Midnight by Stephen King Page A

idea what’s going on in the country below us, or the rest of the world? No way.”
    â€œThen what is our destination? Or do you need time to consider the matter?”
    Brian didn’t. And now the other things he needed to do began to click into place.
    â€œI know,” he said. “And I think it’s time to talk to the passengers. The few that are left, anyway.”
    He picked up the microphone, and that was when the bald man who had been sleeping in the business section poked his head into the cockpit. “Would one of you gentlemen be so kind as to tell me what’s happened to all the service personnel on this craft?” he asked querulously. “I’ve had a very nice nap... but now I’d like my dinner.”

10
    Dinah Bellman felt much better. It was good to have other people around her, to feel their comforting presence. She was sitting in a small group with Albert Kaussner, Laurel Stevenson, and the man in the ratty sport-coat, who had introduced himself as Robert Jenkins. He was, he said, the author of more than forty mystery novels, and had been on his way to Boston to address a convention of mystery fans.
    â€œNow,” he said, “I find myself involved in a mystery a good deal more extravagant than any I would ever have dared to write.”
    These four were sitting in the center section, near the head of the main cabin. The man in the crew-neck jersey sat in the starboard aisle, several rows down, holding a handkerchief to his nose (which had actually stopped bleeding several minutes ago) and fuming in solitary splendor. Don Gaffney sat nearby, keeping an uneasy watch on him. Gaffney had only spoken once, to ask Crew-Neck what his name was. Crew-Neck had not replied. He simply fixed Gaffney with a gaze of baleful intensity over the crumpled bouquet of his handkerchief.
    Gaffney had not asked again.
    â€œDoes anyone have the slightest idea of what’s going on here?” Laurel almost pleaded. “I’m supposed to be starting my first real vacation in ten years tomorrow, and now this happens.”
    Albert happened to be looking directly at Miss Stevenson as she spoke. As she dropped the line about this being her first real vacation in ten years, he saw her eyes suddenly shift to the right and blink rapidly three or four times, as if a particle of dust had landed in one of them. An idea so strong it was a certainty rose in his mind: the lady was lying. For some reason, the lady was lying. He looked at her more closely and saw nothing really remarkable—a woman with a species of fading prettiness, a woman falling rapidly out of her twenties and toward middle age (and to Albert, thirty was definitely where middle age began), a woman who would soon become colorless and invisible. But she had color now; her cheeks flamed with it. He didn’t know what the lie meant, but he could see that it had momentarily refreshed her prettiness and made her nearly beautiful.
    There’s a lady who should lie more often, Albert thought. Then, before he or anyone else could. reply to her, Brian’s voice came from the overhead speakers.
    â€œLadies and gentlemen, this is the captain.”
    â€œCaptain my ass,” Crew-Neck snarled.
    â€œShut up!” Gaffney exclaimed from across the aisle.
    Crew-Neck looked at him, startled, and subsided.
    â€œAs you undoubtedly know, we have an extremely odd situation on our hands here,” Brian continued. “You don’t need me to explain it; you only have to look around yourselves to understand.”
    â€œI don’t understand anything,” Albert muttered.
    â€œI know a few other things, as well. They won’t exactly make your day, I’m afraid, but since we’re in this together, I want to be as frank as I possibly can. I have no cockpit-to-ground communication. And about five minutes ago we should have been able to see the lights of Denver clearly from the airplane. We couldn’t. The