Any possibility of sleep Andy hoped to get ended when he jerked forward and nearly slammed his head against the seat in front of him. He snapped awake just in time to catch himself before he collided face-first with the latched tray table. A voice from somewhere to his left whispered, "It's just a little turbulence. Please remain calm."

     His heart took a moment to slow as he looked around, remembering suddenly where he was. The dim yellow light from above lit the cabin with a dream-like haze that was foreign to him. Most of the others had been trying to sleep like he had. Very few of them seemed to succeed.

     His elbow collided with the man next to him as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. The bearded man looked him up and down with a world weariness that was decades removed from Andy. He smelled like stale cigarette, wet dog, and B.O. "You okay, kid?" 

     Andy wasn't in the mood for conversation. "Yeah, sorry," He kept his answer short before he broke eye contact. 

     His bones creaked like old wood when he stretched; or tried to anyway. There wasn't much room in his seat for spreading out. He raised his wrist to his eyes and stared at the gold timepiece. Eleven forty-eight. He'd slept for exactly sixteen minutes, a record amount of time since he'd first sat down.

     His father's face came to mind and another rush of anger washed over him. This was all his fault.

     Andy pulled himself to his feet just in time for another mild tremor to shake through the cabin. A baby wailed somewhere nearby. A woman across the aisle gripped her armrests so hard her knuckles turned white. Some of the other passengers started anxiously mumbling to each other. You'd think these people had never been on a plane before.

     His legs ached as he stepped into an aisle almost as tight as his row was. Economy was a joke. And not a funny one either. He trekked his way through the trenches, passing fellow passengers who either slept or ignored him. Others read, watched movies, listened to music--the usual. And some, as silly as it seemed, were being coddled by flight attendants who were anxious to keep them calm. New flyers were annoying, but not any more than the headache drumming against his temple.

     As he moved toward the back of the cabin Andy's eyes unconsciously searched the sea of bodies. The last time he'd seen her was when she'd gotten up to wade her way back toward the bathroom. The time before that he'd seen her boarding the plane. The time before that time he'd seen her in the airport, sitting by herself. 

     Just as he was about to reach the lavatory his eyes caught a glimpse of that red blouse that hugged her slim body in a way that had made him completely forget his anger at his dad. She slumped in her seat, her head cocked to the side, her pretty eyes closed tight, and her pretty lips parted as she slept. She looked like a sweet girl.

     Andy liked sweet girls.

     As a slow smile spread across his face the door to the lavatory opened and a chubby little woman walked right into him like he wasn't even there. "I'm so sorry," said the woman with an apologetic frown.

     That annoyed him even more. "Its cool," He forced a smile and slid past her and into the first available bathroom.

     Once inside he locked the door, turned around, and gasped. The lavatory was smaller than his closet back home. He'd expected a break from the cramped cabin but found a bathroom that was only slightly less claustrophobic than his seat.

     He sighed, a little more frustrated in general and a little madder at his dad. His hands ran over the smooth hard plastic as he braced himself over the sink. A few hours from now he would be sitting at the large intricately carved table in the dining room trying to eat dinner in peace. His mother would try to ease the tension between father and son with inane small talk.

     But that never worked. Another fight was pretty much a guarantee at this point.

     He made himself stop thinking about his dad. Instead he thought about the pretty girl. He'd almost gone over to talk to her at the airport but he'd been distracted by his friends talking over one another through his phone. He'd thought about sitting next to her but she was amusingly fast and had cozied up next to some older woman. By the time they landed she'd probably speed out of the airport just as fast. She was pretty but she looked like the kind of uptight girl who took every little thing too seriously. 

     Oh well. He'd never been short of girls looking to hook up.

     For now his only concern was to get through the flight. When he looked up in the mirror he barely recognized himself. His eyes were rimmed with redness, his dark brown skin was ashen and gaunt, and he looked about as tired as he felt. He pushed down on the facet until he'd cupped enough water in his hands and splashed it on his face. Grabbing a paper towel, he blotted at it until the residual water was gone and turned back toward the door.

     Just get through the flight. Then through the next couple of months with dad. Then I'll never have to see that son of a bitch again.

     As he reached for the door, his stomach dropped out of nowhere. Before he could open it, the bathroom tilted back. He stumbled over his feet, and fell backward until his head slammed into the wall. His arms and legs flew out and he braced himself between the plastic fixtures. From the other side of the door he could hear shouting, crying, and the intercom instructing passengers to sit down and buckle up.

     He stumbled to his feet and reached out a wobbly arm until he gripped the handle of the door and pulled. It didn't budge. When the plane pitched again his body began to tumble around the bathroom. He hit the door, the wall again, the sink. His head slammed into the mirror so hard he started bleeding. Something exploded near the front of the plane and screams rang out in the distance. Something tumbled back and forth outside the door. The screams grew louder. The baby stopped crying.

     Using all his strength he pushed himself back up and threw all his weight at the door. When that didn't work he began wildly beating on it with his fists. The plane began shuddering as it dived faster. Whatever was keeping to door in place rolled away and it finally snapped open.

     He only had a few seconds to see the destruction that had torn through the cabin before he was ripped off his feet and swept out of the plane. The falling luggage. The splotches of yellow from the deployed oxygen masks. The debris. Fire. The bodies. He couldn't breathe! And then he was flying; being dragged through a gaping hole. And then the sky!

     He would've screamed but there was no air left in his lungs.