Frazer Lee - Panic Button

Jo screamed through her tears. “I don’t fucking believe you!”

But Jo did believe him, and that was the most terrible thing for her to admit. For the duration of the nightmare flight, Jo had felt she couldn’t believe a word of what Alligator said. He’d taken lives when he could have spared them. He’d taunted and turned each passenger against the other. And he’d manipulated Callahan into destroying everything for the lie that his family would be spared. Until now, everything that had come out of Alligator’s mouth had seemed to be a lie, or a threat hidden in a promise. She believed only one thing now; that all hope was lost — Alligator’s corrupt gospel of despair. Jo felt it consuming her like a black void.

“I have a family too Jo, just like you did. We’ve been ever so busy. Busy little bees.”

“You,” Jo snarled, “are a fucking monster .”

She looked at the death and destruction all around her, at Alligator’s empire of smashed technology, broken bodies and ruined lives.

“This is how you honour your daughter’s memory? Did you ever stop to wonder why your daughter killed herself you sick bastard? With a father like you — who wouldn’t?”

The touch screen crackled with digital noise. Jo could almost feel Alligator’s rage at the other end of the webcam. A tangible, spiteful presence trying desperately to break through.

“Six minutes to impact,” Alligator said.

Jo’s eyes burned with defiant anger. Her hatred for Alligator had become pathological — and her rage at what he had done was all consuming. She looked up the aisle toward the cockpit door and knew now what she had to do.

For Sophie, for her Mother, and for all those poor people on the ground.

It took seconds for Jo to reach the main door of the plane.

It was her only option, she knew that now, clear as day. She looked down at the curved door panel and saw the transparent Perspex covering, emblazoned with the words ‘EMERGENCY DOOR RELEASE’.

Alligator’s voice quaked through the cabin. “What are you doing, little woman?”

“This ends now, you bastard.”

She lifted the plastic cover, grabbed the door release lever.

“You hear me? It’s OVER!”

Jo wrenched the lever with all her might.

It did not budge. She tried again, with both hands this time, but it was stuck fast. Jo slammed her fist against the door in frustration.

“Five minutes. Goodbye Jo.”

The plane tilted and rocked. Rain lashed the windows. The jet was through the clouds now, bearing the full brunt of the storm below them.

Jo placed her hands on the curved hull, steadying herself. She could feel the plane making ready its descent. The engines roared in concert with her rage and despair as she battled her way, uphill, along the aisle into the main cabin of the jet. Her foot snagged on something heavy and she almost tripped over. Looking down, she saw Max’s dead body, his wide terror-struck eyes fixed open, staring at her. Jo looked away. Disentangling her foot, she glanced around the cabin, frantic.

Then she found what she had been looking for — her last chance.

She lifted the crash axe and stumbled back toward the crew prep area, and the main door. The jet was lurching and rocking now, battered by turbulence.

Jo prayed to the memory of her Mother that she was not too late. Dawn had died for what Alligator perceived as Jo’s sins. If she could make a difference — any difference at all — then that would be enough for her. To know, in her final moments, that she had done the right thing and had not just stood idly by while Alligator destroyed yet more lives. In a way, she had become his protégé. He had shown her the error of her ways by punishing her for her inaction when his daughter, Lucy, had chosen to take her own life. Hefting the axe with both hands at the door seal, she could no longer be accused of inaction.

Slam .

A small crack formed between the door and the hull. Jo lifted the axe and struck at the door seal again.

Slam.

The seal had partially broken away.

“Jo,” Alligator’s voice was terse. It sounded like all the oxygen had been sucked from his body. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Taking strength from his fear, she took a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow — then hacked the axe blade into the widening crack with all her might.

Slam.

“Jo!” Alligator sounded frenzied now.

Slam. Slam!

A couple more hits, and Jo stepped back to assess her handiwork. Her heart was racing but she felt cold and calm as she watched the crack in the door seal bend outwards. The sudden loss of pressure was bending the door from its hinges.

For a moment, Alligator’s vile words came back to haunt her — I took out her pretty eyes… she cried out for you Jo, I thought she’d never stop…

Jo choked back an onslaught of tears. Her little girl really was dead. She’d meet her in a better place; Jo felt sure of that now. All of the pain and struggle of her life was rolling back like a tidal wave. Jo felt only love, for her daughter. Love, for her sister Maddie, wherever she may be. Love, for the strangers on the ground at work in their building, blissfully unaware of her presence. Unaware of what she was about to do for them. When they were reunited, Sophie would know for certain that her Mum had not died in vain. Sophie would know that she had never given up on her. And she would know that despite her flaws, Mummy had done the right thing, finally.

Jo Scott felt peaceful, serene.

She closed her eyes and pictured Sophie’s smiling face. We’ll be together soon, little Pumpkin, she thought.

Slam.

One final axe strike and the door exploded away from the aircraft. Debris began to smash and swirl madly through the cabin as it depressurised. There was an explosion of noise as grinding metal buckled and the jet engines screamed. Jo saw the black void beyond the door, and welcomed it. Freezing cold air sucked her from the doorway, and out into the raging storm, like a final breath.

It felt like freedom.

The room was deathly quiet, save for the gentle click and whir of computer hard drives. They lined the space, stacked up on metal shelves, connected by an insane spaghetti of cables. Green router lights flashed, casting an ethereal glow across the dimly lit basement room like stars in a subterranean sky.

The only occupant of the room sat with his back to the little staircase that led to the outside world above. This basement was his world, built with his sweat and toil. He sat facing a bank of computer screens and clicked off the microphone that stood on the desk before him. Staring at the computer monitors, he was mesmerised by the same fuzzy digital noise each one of them displayed. The signal was gone, all communications cut — game over.

The man turned on his swivel chair and surveyed his painstakingly constructed empire. All around him, pinned and adhered to every available inch of shelf and wall, were printouts and photographs alongside lists of surveillance data and jet plane schematics. The entire room was a web of information, a pernicious cocoon from which to exact his revenge.

He glanced, coldly, at the photographs of his victims.

There was Dave, his idiot soldier, gurning into the camera with his arm around the girl he had so easily betrayed. How effortlessly he had been groomed to kill. And Gwen, the religious hypocrite, peering up at the camera she had obviously been holding in her own hand to take the picture. Her look was that of the coquettish tease, her eyes barely concealing the deep conflict within her body and soul. There was the impostor who had pretended to be Max, the grainy photo of him as blurred as the identity he’d projected to his fellow passengers. No matter, he had served his purpose just as well. And Jo. The single mother. The alcoholic. The sad pathetic excuse for a life who had done nothing to save his dear little Lucy, and yet who professed to love her own daughter beyond measure. Even to the point of poisoning another human being to death. He almost admired her for that, he had to admit, but for the fact that she had brought his plane down ahead of schedule… into the sea.