Frazer Lee - Panic Button

She saw herself in the mirror, her arms and legs wrapped around Max. Her reflection looked utterly alien to her, like that of a different person. She imagined Alligator on the other side of the glass, watching them. Perhaps he had a camera hidden there, behind the mirror, recording their every move. Gwen felt as though she were looking Alligator in the eye as Max pressed his body against hers. She could feel his dark presence piercing her reflection like a threat. Her skin crawled with disgust at the thought, even as her flesh beneath burned with arousal.

Then, Max stopped suddenly, pulling away from her embrace. He had lost himself for a moment, adrift on the carnal opportunities afforded by Gwen’s task. The traumatic comedown after his fatal struggle with Dave had numbed his thought processes with shock. But it was the sound that returned his thoughts to crystal clarity. That hollow thud when Gwen’s back had hit the bathroom wall. The sound was pregnant with possibilities.

“What? What is it?” Gwen asked, breathless.

Max wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes were fixed on the wall panel behind her. If it was hollow, then something lay on the other side. He tapped at the panel with his knuckles, then his fingertips, as if checking for a pulse.

“The luggage,” he said, zipping and buckling his trousers.

Gwen looked at him, flustered.

He turned and tumbled out of the bathroom, grabbing his shirt as he went.

“Where are you going?!”

The door closed in answer.

The bathroom glowed green as the Alligator appeared on the TV screen — judge, jury and executioner.

“Your task is incomplete.”

Gwen shook her head in desperation.

“I tried! I tried, but he…”

“ You …” Alligator interrupted, “must not let him gain access to the luggage compartment, understand? Stop him. You have five minutes — or Emily dies.”

Gwen pinched the flesh between her eyes with her fingers as though she was trying to squeeze Alligator’s voice from her brain. She stamped her foot on the floor in anger.

The anguished sound that emanated from her throat no longer sounded human to her.

Jo was sitting on the floor, near Dave’s blood smear, when Max burst through the bathroom door. He pulled his torn and bloodied shirt back on and Jo glanced at the dressing Gwen had affixed to his shoulder wound. Max had an intense look on his face as he marched up to Jo. Something had clearly rattled him — something new.

“In my bag, there’s a laptop. If I can get to it, I might be able to hack into the onboard network.”

“Okay…” Jo said, getting to her feet, “Then what?”

“We can call for help. Find out who is keeping us hostage on this bloody plane.”

Another possibility dawned on him.

“Get through to whoever’s in that cockpit!”

“You can do all that — with your laptop?”

Max smirked.

Over his shoulder, Jo saw Gwen emerge from the bathroom. She looked even more sheepish than she had before she’d gone inside with Max. Jo eyed her suspiciously.

“Yeah, I… do it all the time,” Max said. He hoped he could do what he was planning. In truth, he’d never attempted anything quite so audacious. He did his best to cover up his self-doubt and looked wide-eyed at Jo, seeking her support.

Jo had only ever used computers to access her All2gethr account, keep in touch with her friends and post photos of Sophie for Dawn to see. All this hacking stuff was beyond her. But Max’s earnest look told her he was serious about giving it a go. She gave a silent but encouraging nod.

They both looked at Gwen to gauge her reaction. The strain was beginning to show on her face.

“Are you both insane ? He can see and hear everything!” Gwen said.

Max blinked and retrieved the crash axe. His mind was clearly made up.

“You don’t have to be involved, but I have to try something,” he said, heading for the bathroom.

“Stop,” Gwen pleaded, using her body to block the bathroom doorway, “Please, just stop!”

“I’m trying to get us out of this mess.”

Alligator’s voice joined the party, reverberating throughout the cabin.

“Two minutes Gwen.”

Gwen forced herself on Max, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately, like a longing lover.

Jo looked on, amazed at Gwen’s wholly inappropriate behaviour.

“What the…?”

Max disentangled himself from Gwen’s lips, pushing her away as gently as he could.

Gwen’s whole body shivered. It looked as though an icy wave was passing right through her, from her head down to the tips of her toes. Her eyes held Max’s gaze. The man for whom she had debased herself in order to save her only dear sister. The man who had then tossed her aside so carelessly.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered softly.

Her words were no apology. She had to focus now, had to do it right for Emily. Her eyes narrowed with spite and she jabbed her fist into Max’s axe wound sharply.

He gagged on the pain, and in a split second the crash axe was in Gwen’s hand.

She shrieked like a banshee, an unholy sound, and stabbed the ice-pick end at Max’s shoulder. He stumbled back to avoid the blow and tumbled to the floor between the seats, his back hitting the cabin wall. Gwen leaped onto him, straddling his chest in a violent mockery of the passionate embrace they had shared only minutes ago in the bathroom.

Max managed to grab her forearms in defence, but Gwen still had a hold on the axe. Holding it with both hands, she was pushing down on it with all her of her body weight favouring his wounded side. It was almost frightening to her how easy it had been to turn the tables on him. But then, she’d degraded herself in the blink of an eye in the bathroom. The ultimate sacrifice, all for her beloved sister. It was Max or Emily, and her choice was clear. Gwen doubled her efforts and Max gasped from the pain of keeping the axe at bay. She was trying to turn the pick head into his face, meaning to impale him with it.

The sharp metal was just millimetres from Max’s eyeball, when Jo joined the fray, grabbing Gwen’s arm and trying to wrestle the weapon free. Gwen turned on Jo now, biting down on Jo’s hand and growling like a feral animal, forcing her to let go. Jo cried out as she retrieved her hand and Gwen returned her murderous attention to Max, who was still pinioned beneath her.

Max grabbed Gwen’s axe arm as tightly as he could, twisting her flesh painfully. She retaliated like a woman possessed, regaining her hold on the axe, and thrust down on it so hard that her knees almost lifted from the floor. The pick blade plunged toward Max’s neck, a hair’s breadth away from his jugular — and stopped.

Max looked up in disbelief.

Jo had Gwen in a headlock, arm wrapped around her neck from behind. She was squeezing with all her might.

“Get-off-him!” Jo hissed through gritted teeth.

Gwen doubled her efforts, her face turning red as Jo cut off her airway. She shoved as hard as she could with the axe, the blade cutting into Max’s flesh.

He gasped as a rivulet of blood trickled down his neck.

Jo tightened her grip, starving Gwen of oxygen. Gwen was struggling to breathe now, her once-sweet face turning from red to beetroot. Jo summoned all of her remaining strength to increase her grip on Gwen’s neck, her nasal passages flooded with the sickly sweet stench of Gwen’s sandalwood and fear.

Max was unable to move, trapped beneath Gwen’s body, neck at the mercy of the axe’s pick blade.

Roaring with exertion, Jo pushed her entire body backwards, thrusting with her legs. She fell back, dragging Gwen with her. As they fell, Jo twisted Gwen’s neck in her vice-like grip.

There was a loud crack, and Gwen fell limp to the floor between Jo’s legs.