Flight 1079: The Timer On The Bulkhead Read online



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  Flight 1079:

  The Timer On The Bulkhead

  A Short Story

  by

  G. Massy

  COPYRIGHT 2014

  Praktikle Publications

  All Rights Reserved

  Content May Not Be Copied or Reproduced

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  PROLOGUE

  Captain Krenshaw MacDermitt is a veteran airline pilot, loved and trusted by many. Unlike most pilots, the captain socializes with his passengers while in flight. He always manages to find a troubled few on the trip from New York to L.A., and in some way, touch their hearts. For thirteen years he has been known for his interaction with the passengers, but this New Years Eve the trip will be different than the others. His so called 'Friends in Flight' will see a new side of Captain Krenshaw MacDermitt. Tonight will be a New Years party like no other, for the passengers of Flight 1079.

  December 31st 2014

  Krenshaw stood up as he maneuvered one last twist on the Rubik’s Cube then tossed the completed puzzle into his open briefcase. He centered a flawless Windsor knot tight against his neck while examining himself in the smudged mirror hanging on the cockpit door.

  “I need you to take over for a little while, Frankie,” he said to his copilot and long time friend. “I have a few things to take care of in the back.”

  “Don’t worry, captain. Go ahead and do your thing. I got everything under control.”

  “By the way, how many do we have onboard?”

  “Not many with us tonight, sir. Only a hundred twenty nine.”

  “That’s a lot less than I hoped for, but between you and me, buddy, I have a feeling that this could be a very special New Year’s Eve celebration for all of them.”

  Krenshaw took the perfectly pressed jacket from the back of the captains chair and dusted a few small pieces of lint from the blue sleeves before putting it on. He ran a comb quickly through his thick grey hair, then put his white cap on giving it a slight tilt to the left. Overflowing with self confidence, he stepped into the cabin passing without interest through first class. Although never stopping there, he had always made it a point to nod somewhat courteously at each of the high society snobs that occupied the seats. He paused briefly to look at the red flashing digital timer that was mounted on the bulkhead between first class and coach, then continued toward the back of the plane. The orange setting sun beamed through the small windows, casting cloud shaped shadows that followed him as he walked down the narrow aisle.

  “So, if it ain’t da one and only world renowned Cap’n Krenshaw MacDermitt,” said a boy seated in 13-B. He fanned a deck of cards in front of the captain’s face.

  “Pick a card. Any card.”

  “Sure! I’m always up for a grand illusion,” Krenshaw said, reaching for the deck. He slid a card out of the fifty-two, holding it closely so that only he and any interested eyes behind him could see it. After pushing the Jack of Spades back into the deck, he stood back and crossed his arms, looking directly into the teen’s eyes waiting for the prestigious climax.

  The youngster shuffled the deck while staring at Krenshaw. “Wow, I finally gets ta meet da captain face-ta-face. I heard lots aboucha and I always considud whachu was doin to be bullshit. An act to make people think ya care bout em. Maybe a ploy, ta get us all comin back ta ‘Krenshaw’s airline’. “Tell me sumptin, cap’n. Why ain’t you up front flyin insteada back here lyin?”

  The youth reached over and pulled a shiny playing card out of the jacket pocket of a surprised Krenshaw, holding it up for everyone to see. Sure enough, it was the Jack of spades. A slight trickle of applause sounded out behind the Captain from the few that were watching and bending their ears to hear what was going on.

  “What’s your name son?”

  “My name’s Steven, but dey call me Bumper.”

  “Why Bumper?” the captain asked.

  “When I was little, I used ta bang things up wit my walker. My daddy put rubber bumpers on it, so I wasn’t too destructive, ya know, to da walls and all. Anyways, dey started callin me Bumper, and it stuck wit me. It kinda sucks, but, what da fuck.”

  “You gotta be kidding me,” said a fat sweaty man sitting across the aisle. “With a name like Bumper, I thought maybe you were a prize fighter or something. Ha Ha. I guess you’re not really as tough as you act. Hey everyone, how fast can you say rubber baby buggy bumpers?”

  “Shut da fuck up, or I’ll come across da aisle n show ya how tough I can be.”

  Krenshaw stepped between them to break it up before it got out of hand.

  “That was a very impressive card trick, Bumper,” he said, “but let’s get a few things straight. First of all, this isn’t ‘Krenshaws’ airline, as you call it, and secondly, I don’t have to be flyin once we are up this high. Auto-pilot technology is amazing these days and besides, I have a very competent co-pilot at the controls, but most importantly, you have to keep your cool. I don’t want any trouble up here.” Steven shifted in the seat showing a bit of discomfort so the Captain took a short step back to ease the tension.

  “Now that we got that out of the way, why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

  “Nuttin man. What da fuck makes you think sumptins botherin me?”

  “Take it easy, Bumper,” said the fat man. “He’s only trying to help.”

  “Well, da magic show’s ova, so he can get da hell out ma face.”

  “Steven, I’ll bet you’re from the Bronx, aren’t you?” Krenshaw asked.

  “Born in Philly, but, yeah, I live in the Bronx. Whus it to ya, man?”

  “Believe it or not, I grew up in the Bronx also.”

  “Are you tellin me that yer squeaky white ass is from da Bronx? No way!”

  “It’s true,” said the captain. “I lived in Bedford Park, and graduated from Dewitt Clinton High School.”

  “Bedford Park’s upscale, man,” Steven said, “Dat ain’t no real Bronx.”

  “When I was your age, it wasn’t upscale,” Krenshaw said. “Mom, dad and I lived in an old three bedroom wooden house with my grandmother. My daddy was always a hard worker but when I was fifteen years old he lost his job. Mom worked part time to help out, but we still couldn’t make ends meet. Everyday I could see dad getting more depressed. He knew he wasn’t providing for the family and he said he didn’t feel like a man anymore. My daddy gave up on everything. Then one cold Monday afternoon in December, 1962, I came home from school early. The house was quiet and the front door was unlocked. I walked in slowly, afraid of what I would find. There he was, on the living room floor in a pool of blood. He was still gripping the gun he used to take his own life. He didn’t even say goodbye. Even though I felt something bad was coming, I didn’t expect that. I was devastated, and mom almost had a nervous breakdown. Life was even harder after that, but we had to keep moving on. I stayed in school and I had to get a job on the weekends. There were very few white kids in my high school, and I was always afraid to get on the bus in the morning, but I did. I did it till I graduated then I worked my way through college. With hard work and perseverance, I made it. Now I’m here to help you understand what you are capable of, and to show you, that it is possible to conquer whatever has a hold on you, just like I did.

  Steven wiped his eyes and looked at the captain. “Yer right, man. Sometin is botherin me. In fact a lotta things is botherin me. When I was thirteen, my daddy got sentenced to ten years in an LA prison. He was a tractor trailer driver. I remember he useta take me wit him on short runs. One weekend he took off on a long haul out to Cali and fer some stupit reason he had a few drinks. He pulled onto an interstate da wrong way and hit a c
ar head on, killin a woman and her two kids. I know he was wrong for drinkin and drivin, but it really was an accident. He is a good man, cap’n, and he was a hard worker just like yer daddy. After dat, momma, me, and my little brotha and sista moved from Philly to da Bronx to live wit my Auntie. Seemed like things wasn’t too bad til momma decided she coon’t wait for daddy no longer. We all woke up one morning and she was gawn. She hauled ass in da middle a da night. Aunt Loshanda took care of the three of us on her own, and I think she did a damn good job. I saved pocket change for a long time to get a ticket to go see ma daddy. It took me even longer to get up da courage. I miss him a lot, but afta five years, I don’t even know what ta say when I see em.”

  “Tell him how much you miss him. Tell him you’re happy to see him but most of all, tell him that you love him, and mean it with all your heart. The rest of the conversation will come naturally. Use this opportunity to get to know him,” the captain said. “I miss my dad too, but I will never have an opportunity like you have.”

  Steven kept his head down trying to hide his tears. Krenshaw said no more and walked away.

  The Captain