By Jonathan T.F. Weisberg

Something in the view down the cabin of the airplane hit Graeme with a force of revelation. It caused him to linger at the head of the aisle, while his mind sifted through the impressions the scene had made on him. The plane was nearly empty, though he knew he was the last passenger to board. He’d slipped in as attendants waited to close off the gangway. This should have been a popular flight. The few people scattered among the seats made him think of a chessboard near endgame. That was the connection his intuition had made at a glance: endgame and inevitable demise. It was a bad omen.

Behind him, the crew shut the door, and he heard a clunk as it was locked in place. Accepting that there was now no way to go back, he moved forward and looked for his row.

The other passengers kept their gazes down as he passed and were unusually still—hands rigid on their knees, backs stiff. Graeme was in a heightened state of anxiety, given all that he had learned in the last few hours, but it was obvious he wasn’t the only one. [Read more…]