Flight

FLIGHT

by Trevor Gordon

               Mark Sanchez loved being in the air. Not in the way that he was someone who liked to jump off dangerous things, heavens no. More like flying planes. He received his pilot’s license after retiring from the Marine Corps. 

Hell, after twenty years of order and discipline he figured he deserved something good for himself. His ex, Gloria, took nearly everything else, including his eleven-year-old daughter, Maria. 

So, Mark Sanchez, five years removed from the military, got by on his pension. He’d be the first to admit that it wasn’t the type of salary to supply a “Rockstar” lifestyle, but he got by just fine. Until he didn’t.

Gloria would not stop hounding him for child support. Mark paid, but Gloria always wanted more, More, MORE. Give a guy a break. Mark enjoyed his retirement. More time to focus on his little hobbies that Marine time used to eat up. But the divorce lawyers kept sending him emails, letters, and phone calls saying Gloria deserved more. Something about being married to an “unsettling man with an unsettled mind” had caused damage to Gloria’s psyche. Again, give a guy, a veteran, a break. 

So, Mark Sanchez started taking on little side jobs. You know the type, under the table type. No taxes. He had never done anything inherently illegal, but he had done some jobs quite possibly questionable. He had never done anything involving his passions or hobbies, however.

Until now.

Mark could not quite remember how he had found the ad, but he sure as hell knew why he was interested in it. It involved flying some cargo for a gentleman by the name of Robert Bell from Orange County up into the mountains of Big Bear. Of course, Mark’s first thoughts were that this was some sort of drug run, which he would not have accepted. He knew all too well the chances of accidentally flying into the Twentynine Palms airspace. No sir, he did not want to risk that for $5k. He did, however, find that carrying some healthcare equipment (a much more legal endeavor) to the destination was fine. He even checked the cargo bags before they loaded the plane up. Nothing illegal hidden in the duffel bags. All of it was medical equipment. 

It had never occurred to him to ask why Robert Bell needed it flown, but then again $5k was a good motivator for not asking those types of questions. 

So, Mark Sanchez met with Robert Bell himself at the tarmac. Robert checked to make sure Mark’s license was good to go. Mark thought that Robert Bell was someone he could see himself sharing a beer with. They had a good rapport from the instant they met. 

It wasn’t until Mark was flying miles above the Earth that he realized Robert had no hair. Not no hair as in bald, but no hair as in no eyebrows, no whisker shadows, no eyelashes, no hair on his hands.  This wouldn’t have normally been the type of thing to bother Mark. He was the type to judge a person on their character, not on any physical flaws or disabilities. But the more Mark, on his airborne journey, thought about Robert, the more unnerved he became. He thought of Robert’s outfit; all black. Black trousers, black blouse, black shoes, black socks. Hell, he even drove a black Cadillac. Again, these things would not normally bother Mark. Somehow, though, it was as if the farther away he flew from Orange County (and Robert), new sensations and feelings regarding Robert would appear. None of them positive.

As Mark was trying to pinpoint what he was experiencing, he felt something shift behind him. Naturally, as the only person in the tiny cargo plane, Mark started to freak out.

The plane veered to the right as Mark jumped. Even flying for as little as five years, Mark was still an adequate enough pilot and righted course. Nothing up ahead of him but clear skies. Mark looked behind him. 

Nothing but the duffel bags full of medical equipment.

Mark shook his head and chalked it up to a quick bit of turbulence. He continued on his flight. Thought about Cindy, the girl he recently started seeing. She was very pretty, a little younger than him, and had her own daughter from a previous marriage. Good career and didn’t mind that Mark was retired at forty years old. She was a good one, and Mark thought there may be hope for him yet. Then he started thinking about doing adult things to Cindy. He could feel himself getting excited. Not like he had to be presentable around anyone.

His erotic daydream, which was turning more and more pornographic by the minute, was interrupted with the image of Robert Bell beneath his body in Cindy’s place. Even more disturbing was the grin that Robert was flashing. Even in the daydream, Mark knew that was the grin of an evil man. 

Hey, why don’t you let me out of here, man?

Mark turned around to see where the voice came from. Duffel bags. Same as before. But wait, what was that in the back? Mark thought he saw a hand trying to make its way out of the duffel bag in the back.  The hand started waving, as if it hadn’t seen Mark in quite some time and was happy to see him.

Mark faced the front. He had seen some shit in the Corps, but he had found healthy ways to cope. He didn’t want to admit that maybe his PTSD was starting to come through to the surface. 

Of course, and Mark did not know this, it had absolutely nothing to do with PTSD.

You saw what he did to me. You still took this…job. Whatever you want to call it. 

This time Mark did not turn around. He told himself this is just some weird thing he created in his mind to make the trip more exciting. 

Come on, dude. At least look at me.

Mark absolutely did not want to look. Nonetheless, he felt his head turning to the back of the plane. He nearly released his bowels at what he saw.

A kid, no older than twenty, was sitting on top of the duffel bags. He was naked and had abrasions all over his body. Thicker cuts were on his neck, waist, elbows. Mark realized these were areas someone would cut if they were to dispose of a body. In the way that champions dismemberment.

So you see now, huh?

Mark was starting to perspire. He had bad dreams every now and then, but when he woke, he always knew it was just that- a dream. Now he had none of the same feelings after those dreams. This felt real.

Just focus on flying. No point in having two corpses.

Mark’s attention turned to the front. 

You could just dump me anywhere, and Bob would never know. He’ll still pay you. Well, he might kill you after, but then again he’ll probably kill you anyway. 

What had Mark found himself in? This was worse than his time in Syria. 

An image of Robert Bell floated through Mark’s head. He was holding a carving knife. Leaning over a body (presumably the kid in the back). Robert bent down and started carving.

You’re probably wondering, “why me?” Trust me brother, I feel ya. Felt the same way. But it turns out Robert isn’t the type to pick someone. He let’s destiny do the hard work. Wanna know how he got me?

Mark desperately wanted to turn around but was afraid it might prove to him that he’d finally lost his mind. So, naturally, he stayed facing the front.

Craigslist ad, of all things. So cliché. I know. But, his ad was pretty clever. Wanted some “company,” if you know what I mean. Was willing to pay me pretty handsomely. Turns out, his payment method was a carving knife. Win some, ya lose some.

Mark could swear that the kid shrugged. But since he wasn’t looking in the back, he couldn’t be sure.

Finally, after two minutes of silence, Mark dared to look back. Everything was as it was when he took flight. 

Mark was not the religious type, but he found himself thanking God. 

           By this point, Mark was only twenty minutes from his destination. Smooth sailing here on out. 

           When Mark landed in Big Bear, somehow at an undisclosed location, there was the ambulance at the end of the tarmac. Robert instructed Mark to drive up to it once it had landed and help the driver load the medical equipment. Ever the disciplined man, Mark did as he was told. 

           The driver wanted to make small talk. Mark was not in the mood. He just wanted to get back to Orange County, drive back to his home in Newport Beach, and drink himself to sleep. Cindy could wait another day. He also vowed that he would never fly again.

           Mark climbed into the cockpit. Right before he started the plane back up, he heard a voice.

           “Oh, hi Mark.”

           Mark turned and saw the same grin from the daydream. Robert Bell wiggled the carving knife in his right hand.

           “Enjoy your flight?”