Flight 119A

Flight 119A

There were days when you just want to tear a door right off its hinges. This. Was. One of those days.

Next to me, a woman snoring obnoxiously as if she swallowed a rusty chainsaw for breakfast. Her pungent perfume was sprayed heavily to mask the smell of a baby’s throw up.The blend of flowery perfume and unchanged diaper violated my nostrils until my head pounded as if a Quinceañera party with bad Skrillex songs were blasting inside my head. Inside her arms, nestled a baby around 9 months old, sleeping soundly. The air flight regulations demanded any traveling children to be put to sleep under oral anesthesia. I hate kids.

Anyways, the lights in the small air craft were off. I’m heading to Milky Beach, some place on “Arth”. Why? I don’t know, my doctor told me I have three months left to live, I might die at any given moment. Brain tumor. Cliche, I know. It is what it is.

Occasionally, I’d see things that weren’t  there. Apparitions, shadows. I knew that it might be the tumor affecting my ability to differentiate reality from illusions, but man…

There she was, pale as a ghost, leaning against the partition wall, in front of the lavatories. Even the nosy flight attendants, who’ve been telling me to put away my electronics, strode passed the girl in the red hoodie. She didn’t dress like a flight attendant, yet no one bothered to tell her to sit down, not even during take-offs while the seat belt lights were on.

Finally took notice of my intense staring, she tore her eyes away from her smart phone. A strange model I have never seen before. It’s decorated with a funny looking skull in the back, which glowed blue lights like the TRON movie. She waved and grinned. Her auburn-red hair streamed down the front of her chest, covering some “graffiti” written in front of what seemed like a lotus flower graphics on her red hoodie. She skated toward me, just as a flight attendant walked towards her in the narrow aisle between the seats. The flight attendant walked right through her.

That’s…not a human. Or maybe I’m seeing things again. By now I’m already used to these illusions, I didn’t get freaked out. She came closer to me. A smile was on her face. I was used to these things, I’m just not sure why I’m breaking cold sweats, I can see my hands slightly shaking. Something about the calm dominance air she radiated, the arrogant smile, those yellow split eyes that tore right through your souls, retrieving your darkest and most vulnerable secrets. Her arm rested on the seat in front of me as she bent down. The skulls on her head phone glowed, the glistened spikes on her headphones casted an eerie blue glow on her pale face. A strange tattoo imprinted in the middle of her forehead.

"One more hour…" She whispered, kissed the sleeping baby on its forehead and vanished to thin air.

The baby’s blood curdling screams tore through the air, awoken many annoyed passengers. I was one. You see, where I live, we’re not a fan of babies. The aircraft regulation demands all traveling children to be under anesthesia, shall any child causes a disturbance, its life will be terminated by the passenger filing the complaint. It was completely legal.

The mother nearly jumped out of her seat, futilely attempted to hush the wailing banshee with a sleep inducing pacifier. It whined like a dying pig before execution. Even with the mother’s hand over its mouth.

A flight attendant with face stern as a Catholic school nun, blonde hair neatly tied back in a bun, rosy cheeks on a pallid visage accompanied by a crimson smile that never reached her eyes, approached our seats. Behind her stood two overgrown aviation officers.

"Madame, please hand over your child." The mannequin-like flight attendant politely ordered.

"Just give me a minute, I can put her back to sleep—" the mother pleaded, mascara ran down her chubby cheeks while shuffling through her purse for more oral anesthesia.

The blond woman snapped her fingers robotically. The security guards synchronously aimed their guns at the frantic mother’s head as the flight attendant pried the weeping banshee from her arms. The Airline Aviation Administration prosecute uncooperative parents by ejecting them off the flight; whether it was airborne or not.

Dared not to utter another sound, the mother muffled her hysterical sobs by sinking her teeth deep into her lips until they dripped blood.

The flight attendant carried the baby over to a man in his 40s, aisles across from us, couple of seats up. He smiled pleasantly awaiting the baby with a pocket knife tossing in his hand.

Several onlookers clapped and sighed in relief at the thoughts of the termination of the crying annoyance. No one likes babies.

"Hold on," I stood up. "I want to kill the baby also. Its blood-curling yowl damaged my eardrums." I grunted angrily as the mother shot a murderous stare my way.

Dead silence engulfed the flight, which was then followed by a detonation of excited murmurs among the travelers. Some spectators twisted out of their seats with video cameras in their hands.

On a month long flight, any free entertainment was welcome. You see, our home country was overpopulated. These passengers, including myself were heading to another planet to avoid the polluted ruins we once called ‘home’.

I digressed. Did I mention, “Shall any two passengers (or more) fight over the life of a child, a duel can be used to grant the winner the rights to kill the child.”?

The event however, is not to be seen, watched by anyone. The one who walks out of the room alive, gets to kill the child.

The man and I are escorted to an empty white room, large enough to move around, small enough to be pursued no where to run, no where to hide.

We each had a weapon of choice prior to entering the room. He chose a machete. I came in empty handed. As least that’s what it looked like…
The man glared down at me, he was a foot taller. “You can walk away now, little boy before I tear your ass in half.”

I chuckled. “Sir, do I look like someone who can fight?” I laughed like an idiot. “Look, I have a brain tumor and I’m going to die in the next three months or so. I don’t mean to pry but I’ve seen you kissing your lover good bye in the men’s bathroom. I’m pretty sure man-man relationship is illegal in our country, punishable by…what was it? Stoned-to death?”

The muscular man gathered me by my collar shirt, slammed my body against the white wall. I could hear the crunches produced by my rib-cage , pain shot through my body. Blood poured out the corners of my lips. I coughed violently as he threw me to the ground. Then I saw her again.

She leaned against the white wall, cocking her head to the side. “Fifteen minutes.” Pointing to her watch.

My head spun, I shook myself to regain consciousness. The large tanned man, gathered me up in his muscular arms, a pair of dragons from the tips of his finger ran up to his shoulders. I pulled him toward me and kissed him, passionately.

He opened his eyes wide, his jaw dropped.

"Bruh, can you listen before you kill me? I’m about to die anyways, in -I scoffed, blood gushed out- —in fifteen minutes…"
"Nine minutes~" The red head sing-songily broadcasted the minutes until my death. I get it, geez. The man was oblivious to her presence. I’m guessing she was here for me.

"Nine minutes, I will die…I have always had a liking for men. Never dared explored it. I couldn’t careless about the baby, I wanted to kill the little b*tch as soon as I saw it. But please, before I die, let me know what it’s like to have slept with a man…" I looked him straight in the eyes and smiled. I know, I might not be the best looking guy out there, but I’m definitely somewhere close to being the best.

"Uh…" He hesitated. I grabbed his junk, kissing him down his neck. I tasted nothing but disgusting sweat, but I moaned in pleasure anyways. Girls smelled much nicer up close. He finally gave in.

"I’ve always had a thing for bondage…" I winked, "may I tie you up?" I whispered and serenaded him in kisses, how I would kiss my girlfriend back home. I pulled out a red rope in my pocket. He shoved me off.

"You think I’d fall for th—"
I took off my shirt…and removed my clothes down to bare skin. No weapon, I told him, all I took was this red rope. The man raging boner clouded his thinking. Thank god for all those times I chose to work out every time I was alone. Which was…often. I shook my head and smiled as I ran the ropes several times tying his arms to the sides of his chests. Being a dom definitely helps. Thank you, ex-girlfriends, for your weird fetishes.

"Five minutes…" Said the unamused red head, eyes glued to her cell phone.

I pressed him down on the gray floor, left arm on his mouth, straddling him tight between my legs, running over his throat using his own machete in my right hand. He struggled to shove me off. I’m stronger than I looked, obviously.

Why fight harder when you can fight smarter though. I had no time to spare. I’m glad no one was here to watch me seduce another man to his death. Well, no one, minus my “Angel of Death” or whatever she is. I think I caught her pressing the back of her wrist against her colorless lips preventing herself from busting into a laughing fit when I first tried to seduce a man nearly twice my size.
"Oh, Shut up. I’m pretty sure…I could have kinda fought him… maybe… but I didn’t have that kind of time to find out.” I blushed. Now I’m talking to invisible people…

"Four…"
The man gurggled in his own blood, blood flown out from his severed throat. I didn’t know my human anatomy that well so I simply cut deep enough from side to side of his neck. The blade felt funny as it crunched over his thyroid bone, or trachea. His eyes rolled back in its sockets. He stopped breathing. Stabbing his heart would cause a faster death. But I wanted to see the sunofabeetch bleed out and suffocate to death.

No time to waste. I ran toward to door, clocked the escape button with my elbow, his severed head in my arms. The large white doors hummed and glided out to a gasping audience. I just realized I was ass naked. Not sure if they gasped in pleasure seeing his head, or because I was disturbingly naked, holding another man’s head. Sick bastards. I think they also expected the other guy to win.

"The baby…" I said tossing the man’s head to the ground. Wiping blood off my face with my red stained white shirt, pulling up my ripped jeans.

"Three minutes…." The red head whispered behind me.

"THE BABY!" I screamed at the flight attendants busy staring at my abs…and whatever else. She jumped and handed the baby to my arms. I dived through the riled up crowd who were chanting "Kill it! Kill it!"

I frantically searched for the mother.

"Two minutes." Said the redhead, her voice sounded like an distant echo in a large Colosseum.

There she was, the mother. By the our seat. She didn’t want to watch. I knelt by her, handing the baby to her and smiled.
She looked at me in teary eyes, shocked, disbelieve. I stood up and turned to the disappointed, angry crowd.

"I won the rights to this child’s life. What I choose to do with his life is entirely up to me. I hereby resign my rights to do as I wish to this child, to the mother of the child." I glared at the angry disappointed crowd. "Fight me if you disagree or return to your damn seats. I’m going to bloody die anyways, I’m not afraid to take a few more with me…" I held the machete up against the crowd. I could feel my legs about to give out, their faces blur, my heart raced.

"One minute." The redhead voice echoed in my head, drowning other voices to underwater ambiances…all sounds faded out to silence. Last thing I heard was the THUD of the planes wheels screeching against the runway and the THUD of my body hitting the isle.

The aircraft landed on Arth. Here, it was illegal to kill, to infringe the rights to live, freedom to love, freedom to speech, the basic humans rights. I kissed the baby on its forehead. Good luck with your new life. Please question authority and the ethicality of the laws shoved down your throats. Do not surrender to unjust. Let no one infringe your basic human rights. Always fight for what you believe in. I still hate babies but they don’t need to be killed simply because I hate it.

The machete dropped out from my hand, I bled out internally from the concussion given by the man in the white room. I watched by the side of the red head as medics rushed to strap my lifeless body on their beds and carried me out.