|Off The Radar
Author: NVR PM
In 1952, Syerl Goldsen is sentenced to life in prison after bombing a plane killing everyone on board. At the age of 99 he gets released and decides to fly back to his home country. Will he survive or will his past actions come back to haunt him? R&RRated: Fiction K+ - English - Mystery/Crime - Chapters: 4 - Words: 4,756 - Reviews: 64 - Favs: 5 - Follows: 6 - Updated: 06-25-11 - Published: 01-29-11 - id: 2886721
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The Douglas DC-6B taxied to the runway, all 82 passengers and crew onboard.
The sun reflected on the plane's paint, some of the passengers closing their curtains.
The pilot talked with the man in the control tower, not Ron, as he was on his three-day holiday, and the man in the control tower declared take-off.
The 4 Wright R2800 engines powered the propellers to a deafening noise. The Pan American World Airways plane picked up speed, and sped down the runway, some passengers inside clinging onto their seats. The plane neared the end of the runway at incredible, and when you thought that the plane was never going to make it, it lift off, leaving the New York International Airport behind them. Relief swept through the minds of the worried travelers.
The plane well into the air, swerved to the direction of the sea, heading to Iceland, and from there flying to Heathrow Airport in London. The views out of the window in the plane at that height were magnificent, the sparkling sea below, and the towering skyscrapers of New York behind them.
Syerl Goldsen wasn't admiring the view; he was already clambering out of the toilets, his parachute harness fitted on securely. When he casually strolled out of the toilet, no difference was seen, but underneath his red clothes, he wore the red harness.
Syerl briskly but lackadaisically sat down in his seat at the back of the plane, an ideal plane for him, as the emergency door was to the left of him.
Meanwhile, Bill Grater and his wife and two girls sat happily at the front of the plane in a row, an aisle in between. Bill Grater sat with one of the girls, Diane, and Julie sat with Sharon. It was already thirty minutes into the flight, about another seven and a half hours to go.
They were first flying to Iceland to refuel the plane, before flying onto London.
The Grater families had already ordered breakfast, and were greedily munching away. The girls, Diane and Sharon, were frequently gazing through the window, hoping to see land, and see Iceland to start the next leg of the trip, but instead look at the bright, clear blue ocean, and a cargo boat heading for the New York port in the horizon. They would stare for a few more seconds, realizing that land was not in sight.
Out of nowhere, Diane asked her dad, "So what are we going to see and do when we get to London? What attractions and activites will we see and do?"
"It's all a surprise, but I am sure you will enjoy it," Bill replied, excitedly contemplating how much fun they will have.
Diane, dissatisfied with her dad's answer, beggingly asked, "Oh please tell my father. Probably tomorrow we will be leaving Iceland or will have already left, and we soon will be in London. That's not so far, so why can't you tell me?"
"Well, since you say it is not so far, Diane, it will not be so long to wait them to find out what we will be doing," Bill stated.
With a clear unhappy face, and a face that read defeated from Diane, the conversation was finished.
Syerl looked at his watch. It read one thirty pm, and Syerl thought it was time to put his plan into action.
He stood up, and heaved his bag on the bench above him down to the ground as softly as possible, not to set the bomb off, and placed the bag by his feet. He zipped it open, and grabbed the two separate suitcases, and gently laid them on the other side of his foot. Syerl then zipped up his big suitcase, and picked up the two smaller bags, and ambled to the toilet, which were only a few paces down a corridor behind him.
Syerl tucked on the toilet door that said Vacant. He swiftly stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and switching the sign to Engaged. Syerl was so nervous, that goose bumps ran down his legs and arms, and he thought his heart had stopped beating. He was as stiff with nerves as he would have been if he was paralyzed, and just before he was ordering his hand towards the bag with the parachute inside, he was having second thoughts.
Just because his boss claimed to be paying him when he was not, does it mean to bomb a whole plane just for one man's life? He could have just quit his job, and worked somewhere else, but no, because he was getting paid well, and if he quit, would he find another great paying job? But that was impossible, as everyone wanted to cling onto their jobs to make up for the money lost in World War II. He probably wouldn't find another high-paying job.
A scratching noise outside the toilet got his attention. Luckily, the noise was short-lived, and a few seconds later, it was silent apart from the groan of the two engines that Syerl and most of the passengers were getting used too.
But Syerl was very angry over his money-loss, because in the past he was a very angry person, and he would do something out of the ordinary for just a matter that could be solved so simply, and he still is an angry man today.
The main reason though, was that he was mentally unstable due to the trauma he had during World War II when he was in a Japanese prisoner camp, and so his damaged mind told him to go on with his evil plan.
Syerl unzipped the bag where the parachute was tucked inside. Syerl firstly took all his clothes, which was only a red t-shirt, and a red jacket, and he got to the layer of the harness. With the help from the mirror, Syerl connected his parachute to his harness, and he was ready to go, after putting all his clothes in the parachute bag.
Syerl had never operated a parachute, and he had never flown in one. It was a first, but Syerl was still confident he could fly it, as he read a book about flying a parachute just before his trip.
Now Syerl was trembling with nerves as he cautiously zipped open the bag with the hand made bomb inside. This was the moment of truth. Syerl had waited weeks for this, and had spent a lot of money, not only buying the parachute and the bomb, but a lot more costs were involved with the other things to make this possible, like the plane trip. What a beautiful Douglas DC-6B it may be, it was going to go doing its job. However angry Syerl was, he wanted revenge on his boss.
His hands shaking violently made it hard for him to connect the bomb with the timer. Syerl had put the bomb and timer units behind the toilet, hoping that whoever came into the toilet after them wouldn't see the bomb.
Once the bomb and timer had been linked, he decided to set the timer. It worked like a clock, except that clock was for only one hour. Syerl turned the handle to one minute, and he was ready to go.
Before Syerl pressed the bright red button as bright as blood, Syerl made sure that everything was set. The bomb was in the right place, his parachute was securely in place, nothing left on the floor to pick up, the timer on the right time and on the right mode. Syerl was finally actually ready to go.
The Grater families were getting a little bit restless now, nearing the end of the first leg of their journey.
It was only a couple of hours until touch down in Iceland. They would stay there for the night, and catch the early morning flight to London.
Diane and Sharon were both starting to get hungry, but that was off their minds, as a man that looked to have a parachute on, ran to the emergency door at the back of the plane. Many people screamed, as they thought they would be attacked. The man successfully opened the door, and fell forward out in the open air. People jumped at the man to stop him, all not succeeding.
Everyone now were deathly quiet, wondering why a man would suddenly jump out of the plane, when abruptly a deafening noise filled the aircraft, and within seconds, the plane was a raging inferno plummeting down to the ocean, all passengers and crew now dead, after the ear-splitting wave of screams.
Syerl now had his parachute out, and was pulled rapidly up higher in the air.
A smile from one ear to another grew as a tumultuous noise filled the ever so silent atmosphere. His plan of revenge was complete.
It's been months since I last updated and I finally managed to get the courage to do so. So finally, here is Chapter 3, and thanks to those people who always review my story every chapter (Kobra Kid, Angel Ella - is that how you spell it?) just to name a few. Thanks so much. As usual, here come the questions I'd love you to include into the review:
1. Is it rushed or does it build up nicely?
2. Is there good vocab?
or anything else. aka, can't be bothered to write anymore questions.
Thanks again, and I hope I can update soon. In the mean time, please check out my blog (.com)