Hitchin' a Ride

“What seats are we?” Paxton asked, trying to act as inconspicuous as possible, having accessed a commercial airline without tickets.

“28C and 28D. Both are aisle,” Petra answered, following her brother out of the airplane’s cramped bathroom. A small case strapped firmly around Petra’s torso was their only carry-on. They were the last ones seated. 

Once airborne, Petra logged in to her laptop-looking device and began typing. 

“Hey.” Petra continued working, ignoring Pax. He swiped at her from across the aisle. “Will we get those, uhm, drinks?” 

She continued typing as she answered. “Cokes? Maybe.”

“But no peanuts, right?”

“No.”

Pax leaned back, looking to the guy on his left. “Allergies.”

The man in 28B nodded. “You allergic?”

Pax laughed. “No, we don’t have allergies anymore.”

Petra stopped typing and turned to listen to the exchange. 28B glanced over at Pax, smiling. “Cool watch. My son would love that. He’s about your age. He’s a freshman at Purdue.” He pointed to Paxton’s wrist. “Is it Apple?”

Pax looked at Petra. “Hey, is this Apple?”he asked.

“Apple was bought out by Diatek in 2057,” she whispered.

Pax looked at the guy, shaking his head. “Uhh, it’s a knockoff.” 

The woman next to Petra leaned closer to her. “What’s with your friend?”

“My brother? He didn’t read his packet.” She glared at Pax. “Again.”

Petra turned back to her typing, finishing up, closed her laptop and put it in its case.

“Can we get drinks?” Pax asked.

Petra checked her daemoneter (definitely not Apple or Diatek). “Sorry, Pax, not this time.” 

She stood and walked the short distance to the bathrooms as the service cart was being utilized at the front of the plane. Pax hesitated before catching up, squeezing behind her into the bathroom.

    ***** 

The boxy room Petra and Paxton exited was not much bigger than the bathroom they had left. As they exited they were greeted with a wall of windows; behind them a wall of identical boxy rooms from which pairs of employees would emerge coming back from assignments.

“Let me drop off this SVF drive then we can grab some lunch.” 

“Don’t you want to know the new assignment?”

Petra looked at her brother. “I thought we were going to skip one? Six months on, one week vacation, remember?”

“What about one more? Then we’ll go somewhere for fun.”

Petra stopped, pulling the single wire out of its case and ejecting the SVF. “I don’t know. I’m ready for a break.” The two walked up to the deposit station where Petra scanned the drive with her daemoneter and added it to the cache.

Pax gave her his best please, for me look he’d used since they were kids.

“Fine.” 

The two walked to the in-processing station to receive links for their next commission.

*****

“Why did you hesitate?” Petra took a bite of her sandwich, waiting for her twin to answer.

“Hmm?”

“Leaving this time?”

Pax took a drink, scanning the courtyard, poking at his chips. “I don’t know. I was going to jump that little cart and grab a Coke.”

“Seriously? You’d jeopardize our internship for a Coke from 2031?”

“It was an original Coke.”

“No it wasn’t. You’d need one from the early 80s when they used cane sugar. That’s the original you want.”

Pax looked at his daemoneter. “What year will it be this time? Ugh. 2034.”

“What time do you want to leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. I have a date tonight.” Pax gave a wink. Chlick.

“Why were you engaging so much with that guy?”

“I don’t know. That talk doesn’t matter. Why did you tell that girl everything was going to be okay on the assignment before last?”

“I felt bad. She was our age.”

Paxton sighed. “You can’t become emotionally involved, Petra. They’re like holograms. They died hundreds of years ago. We are just collecting and logging information that was lost to history.”

“Yeah.” Petra ate one of her brother’s chips.

“Hey. We aren’t there to comfort or prevent anything. We’re ships passing in the night. Neither side is real to the other. Besides, what about when we can apply for assignments on the Titanic? Or those failed missions to Mars? How cool will that be?”

Petra nodded.

“If you let your emotions rule, you’ll never advance in this company. Where else do you get to live history with absolutely no consequences?”

“Right,” Petra murmured, “no consequences.”

*****

“Seats?”

“40L and 44G”

“What?” Pax barked, crowding Petra as she slid from the bathroom.

“I couldn’t get them together this time. You’re right here.” She pointed diagonally, having emerged at the back of the 787X.

“No aisle seat? I’m 6’3”- how is this going to be comfortable?”

A tanned girl, hair in a messy bun, approached from the front, glancing at Pax, a warm smile blooming. She hoisted her bag up and into the overhead, turning to find her seat, 44H.

“You’ll manage,” Petra chuckled, heading to 40L and settling in. She hated window seats, and this time, with the storm, it was even more unnerving. She got to work. 

Petra barely noticed the babies screaming above the wind, as torrents of rain rocked the plane. The flight sat at its occupied gate, three hours into its delay. A slow shudder announced its departure just prior to the captain’s address. Petra lifted from her seat, twisting to catch a glimpse of Pax. He was happily preoccupied. She slid back into her seat. 

This assignment was tricky; she’d had to process additional data imprint batches to include scrambled binary codes which technically could have been done the night before, but she’d been tired, and had decided to take advantage of the plane’s delay giving her plenty of time.

Cruising speed didn’t help smooth things out as much as she had hoped, but she was almost done. The passengers were understandably on edge - the delay, the storm - so Petra assumed they’d be rolling out the beverage cart soon. She’d wait this time, even though the Coke wasn’t really the one Pax wanted. 

A massive dip in turbulence changed her mind. She excused herself past her two seat mates, and trotted to the back bathroom to actually use the facilities. Pax was delightfully engaged in conversation with 44H. Awe, maybe a few minutes more wouldn’t hurt. 

As she exited, she noticed the beverages sitting out, ready to be replenished on the cart. She grabbed a Coke and zipped it into her pocket.

At her seat, Petra signed off, packed up her gear, then leaned back and closed her eyes, dozing off.

*****

The commotion was hard to distinguish at first, but it included the tanned girl with the messy bun in 44H, Petra knew that immediately. 44H was closer to the middle of the plane, pointing to the back, screaming. Disoriented, the most Petra could make out was the insinuation that Paxton wasn’t real, and the plane was going to crash.

Petra popped up out of her seat, instantly alarmed. What had Pax done in the course of those 15 minutes? When she couldn’t make him out, she instantly slumped back down, releasing her equipment and logging in. Immediately, she scrambled all communication, creating a dead zone - a trick she learned from Taren Bellflower who’d used it on a New Year’s Day assignment in 2024. Helpful in preventing phones from recording, therefore eliminating future evidence and subsequent questions, Taren had explained.

She glanced back. Pax was standing, talking to another man roughly the same size as her brother.

“No, I’m not being smart. I mean, I am smart. I graduated pretty high in my…. ”

Interrupting him, the older man snarled, “But you have never heard of a Federal Air Marshal?” He stepped forward, his eyes locked on Pax.

“No, I haven’t.” Paxton didn’t flinch. “Why aren’t you addressing the real problem here? That out of control crazy gobemouche?” He waved his hands toward 44H.

Petra squeezed herself up the back of her chair, positioning her legs underneath her. She looked back, trying to catch her brother’s eye. He was staring straightforward, a look of bemused bewilderment on his face. Irritation flashed through Petra, as she mentally replayed his lecture regarding these missions and their lack of consequences. Right.

“Show me your hands.”

“What?’ Paxton asked incredulously. “Oh, I get it - you want her for yourself. Fine with me; she’s all yours. Plenty of empty bathrooms.” 

Petra chewed her lip, thinking. Pax was holding out his hands. The marshal promptly secured his wrists using plastic zip-ties. 

Petra was seething. According to the packet, physical restraints of any type were strictly forbidden unless all attempts at verbal de-escalation had failed. Being a smart-ass shouldn’t count. But what was Pax doing? They should have left the second she had finished. She looked for the girl.

Walking backwards down the left side of the plane, 44H had begun to scream again, randomly pointing at people. “He is not human and you are part of it! And you are part of it! You are part of it!” Petra was relieved that the girl hadn’t singled her out. Yet. “He has been sent here to kill us all.”

The marshal gave 44H a little wave from the back of the plane. “I have him in custody, m’am. He’s not going to be killing anyone today.” He gave her a tip-of-a-hat gesture she didn’t seem to comprehend, exactly, but had stopped yelling. 

The marshal began motioning to someone behind her, and Petra was dismayed to see two male flight attendants had now come to assess the current situation. It wouldn't be the captain; not in this weather.

She pivoted to see back behind the marshal. Pax was no longer enchanted by the situation. The plane’s jerky motions certainly weren’t helping.

Petra couldn’t relax, even though she believed this was possibly a ruse to corner the girl into some sort of captivity, then let Pax go. The next move by the marshal proved her wrong.

Paxton was instructed to move forward which he did at a very slow pace. He and Petra locked eyes as he passed, this time worry clouded his. He shuffled past. Petra calculated the distance to the bathroom located in the middle of the plane, and her position at the back. She glanced to Pax who was looking at her, as though the same thought had crossed his mind. If he could get next to those, she could follow, and the two could simply leave when things had settled.

Midway to the front bathrooms, the marshal halted. He addressed a seated couple and, although Petra could not make out what he was saying, it was clear he was instructing them to move to the back. The couple complied.

The marshal pointed to one of four seats on the inside, guided Pax in, then took the aisle seat. Pax was now boxed in on a doomed aircraft. 

The new seat location was only halfway to the bathrooms. All the twins had to do was get to one of the lavatories - just one. Petra surmised if Pax could get to the middle ones, she could walk up there under the guise of stretching her legs.

With a generous amount of trepidation, Petra watched as one of the attendants began tugging the beverage cart out, blocking the aisle closest to Pax.

Petra excused herself over her seat mates, walking to the back, slipping in next to 44H’s seat. 44H had been moved to the front, somewhere, and the people displaced by Pax and the marshal were now headed toward Petra.

The plane continued to dip, the turbulence growing increasingly strong. Petra braced herself along the wall, eyes still on Paxton, one hand on her crossbody case. 

Anger turned to panic as the plane listed heavily to the left, sending Petra to the floor. A flight attendant helped her to her feet. “You need to get back to your seat immediately,” she warned, pushing Petra forward. Alarm overwhelmed her; she needed her twin, and they needed to leave.

Petra decided she was not, in fact, going back to her seat. Once the plane leveled, the beverage cart would be pulled back out of commission. It was the only logical choice, wasn’t it? Apparently not.

The cart continued forward, not even close to the middle where Pax was trapped.

Without warning, the 787X pitched to the right, then dropped several feet. Petra fell to her knees. Lights flickered; the cabin went dark. Emergency lights cast a soft glow as the airplane rocked side to side. Cries filled the cabin, above it all 44H was screaming how she’d told them but they wouldn’t listen.

The beverage cart now sat abandoned in the aisle. Petra stood, trying to see her brother. She began moving forward, waiting for yells from an attendant. She walked with purpose, straight toward the bathrooms, still blocked by the cart. The turbulence wasn’t making it easy.

The thing was, she and Paxton might be ships passing in the night to these people, but at this moment in time, they were all living, breathing beings. And if she and Pax weren’t careful, they’d be the mystery of the ages as people would try for decades to figure out who the unnamed passengers of this flight had been.

Petra noted, with a touch of malice, the marshal gripping the armrests, as she held the seats while passing. She glanced at Paxton and was relieved he witnessed her scowl. 

“I need to use the restroom,” he told the marshal. Petra had slowed to listen, straining above the wailing of others. The cart was still several feet ahead; she held onto the seats as the plane rocked.

“Not a good idea right now.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to wait,” Paxton countered.

Petra turned slightly, trying to see the marshal weighing his options. “You’ll have to go to the back of the plane.”

Petra rushed forward to push the abandoned cart out of the aisle. Another bout with turbulence almost sent it back over her, but a flight attendant stopped the roll, and secured it in its designated area. She smiled at him, then looked for Pax. He was already headed the other direction, followed by the marshal.

The plane began to pitch side to side; Petra, like a pinball, bouncing seat to seat. She hurried to catch up, desperately thinking of a distraction. If the marshal stood guard, she couldn’t enter the bathroom with Pax. One of them wouldn’t be going home.

At the bathrooms, the plane pitched again, and Pax nearly fell, his bounded hands making it difficult to catch his fall. He looked up and held Petra’s gaze, his worried expression melting into a warm smile. 

Petra pointed, then quickly knelt down behind the marshal. Pax body slammed him, pushing him over her. He fell backwards, landing with a hard thud, just as the plane lurched again.

Petra scrambled up as Pax grabbed the door of a stall, yanking. Locked. Looking down Petra read ‘OCCUPIED’. She whipped around to the one behind her and tugged. Also locked, also occupied. 

The marshal was on his feet. Pax moved backwards, putting space between them. Petra pointed to the oversized stall, and Pax turned. The marshal knocked Petra aside, reaching out, grabbing Pax by his shirt.

“No, you don’t,” he hissed, yanking Pax backwards. Petra, on her feet again, jumped on the marshal's back. He began shaking, trying to dislodge her. 

An oversized bathroom door flew open; a man calmly stepping forward. He stopped the spin, extracting Petra from the marshal, dropping her to the floor. The man pulled out a stun gun, leveling the threat. He grabbed Petra by the shirt, lifted her to her feet, and guided her in the direction of her brother. The man walked briskly back toward the stall.

“Hello, Callum,” Pax said as the man and Petra passed, then fell in line after his sister, following both into the plane’s oversized bathroom.

 *****

“Well, technically we were going on vacation after this assignment anyway, so the suspension comes at a good time, you know what I mean?”

Petra rolled her eyes. “I already gave Callum the SVF, so we can just go. He said he’ll write everything up as a non-incidental so it won’t go on our permanent record.” 

Paxton glanced over at Callum, walking across the lobby, before turning and joining Petra who was headed in the opposite direction.

 “Do you want to get some lunch?”

“You know, that was really nice of him. Not all sponsors would go to those lengths,” Petra pointed out.

“He wants us to succeed.”

Petra nodded. “Oh, I have something for you.” From her pocket she pulled out the Coke.

“Is it real?”

“We just left 2031, not the 80’s.”

He opened it and took a drink. “Delicious.” He turned the can around, reading. “Uhh, I think it's real.”

“Wait, what? It shouldn't be. Let me see.”

“Don’t drink any.” Paxton handed over the Coke.

The ingredients were listed: carbonated water, pure cane sugar, caramel color, phosphoric acid, natural flavors and caffeine.

Petra looked at Pax, her face ashen.

Pax shrugged. “Not all consequences are bad, right?”

“Don't tell Callum that. And start reading your packets.” 

Paxton took a drink and smiled. “Right.” Wink, chlick.