The Last Request by Brandon Barrows EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Brandon Barrows
- Language: English
- Genre: Traditional Detective Mysteries
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
The little plane looked promising before I boarded. It was freshly painted
in glossy white, with a dark-blue stripe from nose to tail. Walking across
an airstrip and climbing what was basically a ladder to board a plane was a
new experience, but the attendant was friendly and smiling. “Welcome
aboard Arctic Airlines flight 201,” she said. It gave me a good feeling.
The moment I was inside, though, that feeling evaporated.
The carpet
down the aisle was ragged and stained; most of the seats sported electricaltape repair jobs and one of the six rows of six seats was roped off with a
handwritten sign that just said OUT OF ORDER. I turned back, but the
attendant was disappearing into the cockpit. I don’t know what I would
have said to her anyway. My ticket was paid for and this was the only way
to the town of Foster’s Place that wouldn’t require days on the road – and
that was if I wanted to rent a car and drive myself. This feeder line was the
only mass transit that serviced the place.
There were already six or seven people seated, most of them with a
half-row to themselves on one side of the aisle or the other. I found a seat in
the second-to-last row. The inner two seats were empty, but across the aisle,
there was a heavyset woman with skin a rich copper color and dark, shiny
hair that looked so soft I was envious. Her hands were clasped across her
middle and her eyes were closed. She looked like she was already asleep
even though we only boarded a couple of minutes ago.
The flight to Foster’s Place was a little over an hour and reading on a
plane gave me headaches, so I try to find people to chat with whenever I
have to fly. It’s something my mother taught me when I was a little girl.
“Little while friends” she called them.
“Hi,” I said, shrugging out of my parka.
The woman opened one eye, glanced at me and nodded, before closing
it again.
“Don’t bother.”
I turned and saw a man somewhere in his middle thirties, about ten
years older than me, twisted around in his seat two rows up and across the
aisle. He was wearing a tweed suit that looked like it was slept in more than
once. His eyes found mine as he continued. “Miriam’s been on this flight
every time I’ve taken it the last two years and I’ve never heard her say a
word.”
“Oh,” I began, wondering how he knew her name if that was true, but
then the captain’s voice cut in over the loudspeakers, announcing takeoff. A
moment later, there was the roar of engines, only barely muffled by the
cabin’s walls, and the sudden press of gravity as we were pushed back into
our seats by the force of the thrust.
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