The Fall of Society Read online

  “If…” he lost his train of thought. “…If I wanted water, then I would ask you for water.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said with a smile and went to get his drink.

  At the flight attendant station, a male steward noticed her dismay. “Something wrong, Karen?” he asked.

  “I think the guy in five has had too much to drink.”

  “Really?” he said and glanced down the aisle at Nick.

  “And he’s acting weird, I think he’s sick, yeah?”

  “Let me take him his drink, so I can have a look.”

  “Okay, thanks, Mark.”

  “No problem.”

  Mark took the drink over to Nick. “Here’s your drink, sir.”

  Nick tried to push the controls to raise his bed into the seated position, but he couldn’t do it because his fingers fumbled on the controls.

  “Allow me to help you, sir,” Mark said and leaned over.

  He pushed the proper button to raise the chair and that’s when Nick coughed right in Mark’s face, his mouth was open.

  “I’m…sorry,” Nick mumbled.

  He did his best to hide his repulsion. “It’s quite alright, sir,” Mark said and wiped his face with a napkin, but he didn’t know that Nick coughed small droplets of blood on him.

  “Here’s your drink,” Mark handed him the glass.

  Nick took a drink and spat it out. “I asked for water!” he said in a raised voice.

  “Apologies, sir, let me take that for you.” Mark reached for the glass, but Nick threw it to the floor and broke it.

  Other passengers and flight attendants stopped what they were doing because of the spectacle.

  “Sir, that wasn’t necessary,” Mark said.

  “Just get me…some damn water!” Nick barked.

  “I’ll get you your water, sir, but I need you to calm down.”

  Mark picked up the pieces of the broken glass and went back to the station where the other attendants waited for him.

  “What’s that guy’s problem?” asked Peter, who was a small stature steward.

  “I don’t know; he seems more sick than drunk,” Mark stated. “Peter, do me a favor and vacuum the rest of the broken glass.”

  “Sure,” Peter said.

  He grabbed a handheld vacuum out of a storage compartment and went to Nick’s seat.

  “Did you see him cough on me?” Mark was annoyed as he wiped his face.

  “What is that on your cheek?” Karen said.

  “What?”

  Karen looked closer and wiped a dark spot with her finger, it smeared.

  “Disgusting, is that blood?” she said.

  “What! Please, tell me that you’re joking?” Mark said startled and went to a mirror.

  “No, it looks like blood,” Karen said and got some hand sanitizer.

  Peter vacuumed the shards of glass around the seat and Nick was sitting there quiet with his eyes closed as if he were meditating. The attendant accidentally hit the base of the seat with the vacuum and Nick snapped awake—he grabbed Peter by the forearm and squeezed hard. “Where’s my drink?” Nick demanded angrily.

  “Sir, please, let go, you’re hurting my arm!” Peter demanded.

  Peter couldn’t pull his arm away, and then he noticed Nick’s eyes: They were bloodshot, but some of the veins were a greenish color. His mouth was full of saliva that was slightly dark, and it frightened the young attendant.

  Mark rushed over and forcibly removed Nick’s hand from Peter and the attendant’s arm was cut in the struggle from Nick’s fingernails.

  “Jesus!” Peter said irritated and looked at his bleeding arm.

  “Sir, this kind of behavior isn’t tolerated!” Mark said. “You need to restrain yourself or I’ll be forced to call the air marshal that’s onboard, and he’ll restrain you.”

  Nick wasn’t lucid as his eyes rolled in and out of their sockets; he couldn’t focus. “I’m…sorry,” he said and then passed out.

  “Are you alright?” Mark asked Peter as he helped him up.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  Mark pushed a button on Nick’s seat controls and a privacy screen closed him off from view.

  “I need to inform the captain,” Mark said and walked off.

  Although the captain was a man in his fifties, he looked younger, good genes or hair dye, maybe both. The copilot was a handsome man in his forties, a little on the dashing side with his cute hair and blue eyes. The navigator, who sat behind the two pilots, was a kid in his early thirties; though young he was a professional, a little on the anal side. While it was daunting that their cockpit windows offered nothing but ocean and a darkening sky, this was a routine flight for them.

  The copilot had an incredulous look on his face. “You had a one night stand with a girl that looked like who?” he said to the navigator.

  “You heard me,” he answered proudly.

  “The adult film star?” the captain questioned.

  “Yes, she looked just like her, and I shagged her proper.”

  “Are you sure that it actually wasn’t the porn star?” the copilot said with a grin. “I’m only asking because I know some of the places where you like to have a pint—very seedy establishments with questionable staff.”

  “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, my friend,” the navigator said.

  “Jealousy? You obviously haven’t met my wife; she’s currently on the floor serving our passengers. Is she prettier than my wife?”

  The navigator got the point. “No, your Suzanne is quite lovely.”

  “Thank you,” the copilot said satisfied.

  The cockpit doorbell chimed, and they saw that it was Mark at their door on the monitor, so the navigator let him in.

  “Hello, Mark,” the navigator said.

  Mark nodded. “Captain, we have a small situation with a passenger in first class.”

  “Oh? What’s the problem?”

  “He may have had a little too much to drink; he raised his voice and grabbed Peter by the arm, but I think that he may be sick.”

  “Anything serious?” the captain asked.

  “No, sir, could be flu, I’m not sure.”

  “And how is he now?” the copilot asked.

  “He passed out.”

  The captain wasn’t too concerned. “Very well; do you know who the air marshal is on this flight?”

  “Yes, sir, but I don’t think we’ll be needing his services,” Mark answered.

  “As long as you know who he is, you can get him, if needed.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Mark said and left.

  The navigator looked to the captain. “Should we call in the drunk passenger to London Control, Captain?”

  “No, Son, no need to bother them when they’re probably more drunk than he is,” the captain joked.

  • • •

  Two days before, the international terminal of London’s Heathrow Airport was bustling with people as they darted back and forth in the rat race.

  Sans two people.

  A man and a woman stood facing one another in the middle of it. The man was Paul Hubber, and he had a backpack over his shoulder. The girl was a beautiful redhead in her twenties, and all she carried was her purse. She wasn’t going anywhere, because they were about to say a sad goodbye. “Will you call me when you land in Los Angeles?” she asked.

  “Of course I will, Katie, but it will be late.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Okay.”

  A moment of silence, then—

  “I’ll miss you,” she said with big, glossy eyes.

  Paul was silent. “Katie…”

  “I know,” she said and her tear ducts were going to betray her at any moment.

  “I can’t let this job get away, it’s a great opportunity,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

  “I could wait.”

  “For a year or more? No, that wouldn’t be fair to you or me
.”

  “I love you, Paul.”

  She wasn’t making it easy for him, but he couldn’t deny what he felt for her. It was true what he said about the job: It was an opportunity that he couldn’t pass on, and he was willing to give her up for it. “You know that I love you, too, Katie, but this job…it’s…”

  “I understand. Just don’t forget how much I love you.

  “I won’t.”

  Tears welled in her big green eyes. “I’ll wait for you.” She kissed him on the cheek and walked away.

  “Katie?”

  She disappeared among the slivers of moving people.

  “Damn it,” he muttered.

  Paul was one of the last passengers to board; the plane was almost full as he placed his backpack in the overhead compartment and took his seat in the center aisle. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Am I doing the right thing? he wondered.

  The plane’s engines began to spool up, signaling that they were departing soon.

  Paul loved Katie, that much was true, but in the current economy, he really needed this job, even if the starting salary was low. The experience he’d gain would be invaluable, but what about Katie? Before he got on the plane, it didn’t seem too difficult of a decision, but now that it was solidified, it was different. He looked at the plane’s door that he’d entered, it was still open as a stewardess greeted boarding passengers, but now they were few and far between. He sat back and tried to relax. “You need this job,” he whispered to himself.

  He heard her memory—

  I love you, Paul.

  —The plane’s engines grew louder…

  Paul’s cell phone chimed. He pulled it out of his coat pocket and checked the screen; it was a text message from Katie. He read it casually. His eyes tightened as he read it again and he absorbed each word carefully, slowly—

  Paul, I didn’t tell you this because I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to keep you here. I’m pregnant. I just found out two days ago. I’m going to keep it. Hopefully, one day we can talk about whether or not you want to be in your child’s life. Take care of yourself. Katie.

  He was sideswiped; his face was in bewilderment as he came to grips with her message. And then he accepted it. He finally smiled slightly. This was good news that he welcomed and suddenly he forgot about his new job, but he had forgotten where he was as well. He snapped out of it and got out of his seat. “Excuse me, so sorry,” he said as he squished by two passengers at a quick pace.

  He hurried for the door, but then stopped abruptly—his backpack. “Bollocks,” he said then turned around, grabbed his backpack from the compartment, and headed back for the door.

  The flight attendant had just closed it and locked it into place.

  He knew that they wouldn’t open it unless someone was dying.

  He sighed and closed his eyes. “Bloody hell.”

  • • •

  Paul opened his eyes from the memory and found himself in his window seat on the Airbus bound for London. He was anxious to get home and talk with Katie about the future, about their future together. Upon arriving in L.A., Paul got on the first flight he could catch back to London. He decided not to call Katie because he wanted to talk to her face to face, even though he had no idea what he was going to say.

  “So, were you in L.A. for business or pleasure?” George asked.

  “What? Sorry, my mind’s elsewhere.”

  “I can tell, were you in L.A. for business or pleasure?”

  “Oh, business.”

  “What line of work you in?”

  “I’m an architect, I was actually in Los Angeles to start a new job.”

  “The job’s over now?”

  “No, I never started.”

  George was confused. “Why?”

  “There’s something that I need to take care of back in London.”

  “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, actually, it is.”

  George smiled. “It’s always a girl.”

  Peter leaned against a wall in the flight attendant station, his forearm that Nick cut with his dirty nails was bandaged, but he didn’t look good. He sweated a lot and was wobbly on his feet, which was why he braced the wall to keep his balance.

  “Are you alright, Peter?” Karen asked.

  “I don’t know…I feel lightheaded.”

  “Would you like me to get you some aspirin?”

  “I already took some, thank you.”

  “Then perhaps you should sit down for a bit?”

  “I think you’re right; would you let Mark know?”

  “Sure thing, go have a rest, we’ll be fine without you for a time.”

  “Thanks, Karen,” Peter said and left.

  He walked slowly down the stairs, holding the handrail as he went down to the economy class section. He was about to proceed to the rear of the plane when Jeffrey called to him. “Excuse me, mate, can you get two more beers for us, please?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t work in this section, I’ll send a flight attendant to take your order.”

  “I don’t want to place an order, I just want two beers, how difficult is that?” Jeffrey said.

  “She’ll be right over,” Peter said and kept going, grabbing headrests for support as he went.

  “If he doesn’t work in this section, then why is he going to the back of the plane?” Jeffrey asked.

  “I don’t know,” Richard answered.

  Peter continued to the back of the plane, but he didn’t pass on the beer order to any of the other attendants that he walked by. He was desperate to get off his feet as he passed George and Paul.

  George saw the very light gray blotches on Peter’s pale skin. “He doesn’t look good.”

  “Maybe he’s just tired,” Paul said.

  George’s attitude changed as he glanced back at Peter. “Maybe.”

  Peter reached the back of the plane, which was a rest area for the crew and took a seat. He leaned his head back and covered his face with both hands; it was obvious that he wasn’t doing well. A stewardess noticed his discomfort and came to him. “Peter, are you ill?”

  “I think so, I’m very dizzy.”

  She touched his forehead. “You have a fever; I’m going to get you some aspirin.”

  “Good idea, I should have taken some earlier,” he said in a confused state.

  She came back a couple minutes later with a drink and the medication. “Here you go, take this.” she handed him the pills, he swallowed them, she gave him the drink. “Some ginger ale.”

  Peter drank all of it and handed her the glass. “Thank you, Elizabeth.”

  “You’re welcome, get some sleep. If you need anything else, just ask me.”

  “I bet you taste just as sweet as you are nice to me,” he said and closed his eyes with a smile.

  Elizabeth gave him an odd look for that remark and went back to her seat to continue reading the eBook on her tablet.

  A moment later, Peter woke up abruptly; he clamped his hand over his mouth to keep himself from vomiting and rushed over to the lavatory. He closed the door and locked it.

  Elizabeth took notice but decided not to bother him.

  Peter quickly made sure that the lock was engaged, and then dropped to his knees and vomited in the toilet, throwing up all the liquid that he drank. Then more than he drank. It stopped after a moment, and Peter remained hunched over the toilet; he was as pale as the toilet paper inches from his face and drained of energy. He thought the worst was behind him, and then he gagged badly, which led to involuntary spasms; he was dry heaving. He had nothing left in his stomach to eject, but his vomit reflex continued until it became violent and then he began to vomit more liquid.

  It was blood.

  “Oh…God!” Peter muttered in between heaves.

  He covered his mouth to stop the bleeding, but his spasms kept spilling it everywhere, Peter didn’t realize that he was dying right there.

  His eyes became milky…


  His veins turned black…

  He vomited again, and it was so severe that a quart of blood splattered all over the lavatory, his body went into a hard seizure, and he collapsed on the floor, his chin catching the toilet seat with a thud. He was incapacitated. His breathing was labored and very shallow, they were sharp, quick breaths.

  Sharp and quick.

  And then they stopped.

  His face went lax and his pupils dilated fully to look at the final beyond.

  He was dead.

  But his corpse kept dry heaving every few seconds…

  And his eyes continued to change color with twisted greenish veins…

  Blood slowly dripped from his face like thick molasses…

  Outside the toilet, no one heard what had happened inside. Elizabeth looked up from her book; thought that she heard something, but dismissed it and went back to reading.

  In first class, Mark and Karen continued serving their passengers, which were about seven. As Mark served drinks, he eyed Nick’s enclosed seat—he couldn’t hear anything or see any movement—Mark looked closely for a moment and was curious. He walked over but didn’t look over the privacy screen. “Sir, how are you feeling?” he said.

  No response.

  “Can I get you some water and aspirin, sir?”

  There was nothing, so Mark activated the seat controls, and the privacy screen opened. Nick had his back to Mark and appeared asleep; he was very still, and then Mark noticed that it looked like he wasn’t breathing.

  “Sir?” Mark said.

  Nick said nothing and didn’t move.

  Mark nudged him on the shoulder. “Sir?”

  Nick rolled on his back from the nudge and Mark saw his face. “Oh my God!” he gasped.

  He was dead with fully dilated milky eyes that stared into nothing. Mark checked his pulse on his neck and his wrist, but there was nothing.

  Other passengers took notice, so Mark quickly pulled Nick’s blanket over his face. “Karen!” he called out.

  She came over, and Mark whispered the situation in her ear, Karen was shocked but she kept her composure in front of the passengers.

  “Move these passengers into business class; I have to get the captain.”

  “Okay,” Karen answered.