Foxes on a Plane
Just a little something I thought up as I went along. Maybe More, Maybe Not...
Phoenix shrunk behind the Boeing 777, as it flew East toward Newark, New Jersey. Brian leaned back in his cramped aisle seat, and placed his iPod headphones down over his ears. He had been on a plane, the same time every year, flying from Arizona to New Jersey, to visit his family, and this was the first time that the TSA had not bothered him, which was a first. He didn't want to say it, but it seemed as though the TSA was reluctant to allow non-humans on planes, at least, not in seats.. He slid the slider across the screen to unlock the MP3 player, and pushed the shuffle button. The first song that came on was Single Ladies. The fox shook his head in disgust.
"What the hell?" Brian whispered to himself, pushing the next button. "Didn't even know I had that song on here..." For the First Time started playing out of his headphones, and the fox smiled as he leaned back as much as he could without disturbing the person behind him. He turned the volume down low, so as to not damage his sensitive hearing, and closed his eyes. When he woke up, his neck was stiff, and the plane was cruising above what looked like a large city. Ten minutes later, a bell dinged, and the flight attendants woke up the passengers, telling them they would be landing in a further ten minutes, and went through the landing procedures.
The landing was uneventful, though it seemed to take longer then usual to taxi the plane to the terminal, and an inordinate amount of time for the people ahead of him to get off the plane. He soon realized that it wasn't that it was taking a long time, but rather, that there was no movement to get off the plane, whatsoever. With the generators powered down, there was no air conditioning, and sitting on the hot tarmac was not doing anything to cool the irate passengers' tempers. Flight attendants were trying to sooth the angry passengers, but the complaints drowned them out. Brian pushed his call button, even though he knew the attendant would never attend to him.
It was fortunate that there was an attendant monitoring the panel that indicated who was calling for assistance, and even more fortunate (though moderately offensive) that when said attendant saw it was the fox (the only non-human on board) who had called, she sent someone to speak with him. The woman walked up to Brian, and politely asked him what she could help him with.
"What's going on," Brian asked, trying to gain some insight into the situation, "why aren't we getting off the plane?" The flight attendant sighed, apparently unable to answer this same question which she had received from every other passenger she had spoken to.
"Sir, I'm unsure of why we're not disembarking, but as soon as we get an update from the pilot, we'll begin to get all passengers off the plane," she said, stoically, and turned to leave. Brian put a paw gently on her arm, and she turned around once more, prepared to tell the passenger off.
"Ma'am," Brian said, looking directly at the flight attendant. "I need to know what's going, in the event that I am needed to assist."
"Sir, I assure you, there is not a problem for you to assist with," the flight attendant replied, nervous. Brian nodded, but left his paw on the woman's arm.
"Alright," Brian said, "may I speak with you somewhere slightly more private?" he surreptitiously slid back the bottom of his short sleeved hawaiian shirt, revealing his badge just long enough for the attendant to see it. Her eyes widened, and she nodded. Brian followed her to the back of the plane, and into the small kitchen. Brian pulled out his wallet, and showed her his ID, to verify his identity.
"Alright," she told him, closing the door to the cabin, "we have a 7500 in the terminal. Do you understand?" Brian thought about it for a moment, and nodded.
"How bad is it?" he asked.
"Terminal 14 has been taken, and they're threatening to start killing hostages if their demands aren't met."
"Jesus," Brian muttered. "Alright, I need off this plane, right now."
"We can't let any passengers off until the situation is resolved, or appropriate authorities tell us to evacuate," the flight attendant replied. "That's company policy in the event of a 7500."
"Yeah, well right now," Brian said, annoyed, "I'm an appropriate authority, and I'm telling you that you need to let me the fuck off this plane, right now."
The flight attendant sighed, and looked around, as if to check for anyone who could see her. "Alright, I'll help you, but you can't get out the actual door, because there's nothing there for you to walk out onto, and we can't deploy the emergency chute." She turned, and bent down beside one of the cabinets. Hidden on the side of the cabinet was a small cover, which she lifted to expose a keypad. "What I'm about to show you is classified, and you can't tell anyone, understand?" Brian nodded, and she keyed in a long code, before sliding the panel down once more to cover the keypad. She slid back a section of the carpeting, to reveal a small door, just big enough for a person to slide through. Brian oohed in amazement.
"Didn't know that was there," he said, amazed.
"No one does, except the flight crew..." the attendant replied. "Emergency hatch. It gives you access to the planes' equipment crawlspace, and the cargo bay beneath that. Slide down through this, and you'll find yourself in a small space just big enough to stand in, barely. About a yard in front of you, toward the back of the plane, there'll be another hatch, which will drop you about ten feet down into the cargo bay. So be careful, because it's dark, and a long drop. Toward the middle of the plane, there's another access hatch, on the right or left hand side, which opens to the outside. Be careful dropping there, because that's also a twelve or fifteen foot drop; plus, be careful, because that's right above the wheels, and if you get too close to those, you'll get burnt. The brakes are very hot."
"Thanks," Brian said, as she turned the latch, and opened the hatch. This allowed a hiss of air to escape, as the uneven pressures equalized. "Listen," Brian said, as he switched her places. "Stay safe, and, if anyone asks, you never met me." The attendant nodded as the fox grasped the edges of the hole, and lowered himself down. He let go, and landed on the metal floor with a dull thump. As he moved around, he realized the attendant was right; it was barely high enough for him to move, and he had to half crawl his way to the second hatch, which he found, and opened, allowing another hiss of air as the pressures equalized. The cargo bay below was lit with an eerie red light, which did little to remove the shadows from the compartment, but allowed for enough light to see his way around, and see the distance between him and the floor. "Damn," Brian said, but lowered himself down anyway, and prepared to arrest his fall. He took a deep breath, and let go, roling as soon as he hit the metal floor. "Damn, damn," he continued. "This is NOT the way to exit a plane, ever."
The fox located the final hatch, and threw it open. By this point, the plane was pretty much fully depressurized, so there was a minimal loss of air out the open hatch. Brian cracked his neck, and lowered himself down. The wheel was almost directly beneath him, and he had to swing himself slightly away to avoid landing on top of it. He rolled forward when he hit the ground, and arrested his fall. "Why the hell can't CNN catch that for their evening news!" he exclaimed, standing up, and heading for the baggage handlers' entrance to the airport. As he walked, he unbuttoned his hawaiian shirt, and reached into his shoulder holster to draw out a Glock 23. What separated his section of the government from the rest was that he took it a step further, and reached into the other side of his shoulder hoster to draw out a suppressor for said Glock. This he threaded onto the end of the barrel, and checked to make sure it was snug. He pulled back on the slide, and when he released it, it slid forward with a satisfying click, chambering a .40 caliber round in the process of looking so darn cool.
Brian walked up to the baggage handlers' door, and into the airport, regretting that he had left his shades back on the plane...