The Island, Chapter 3 - Sex Stories

The Island, Chapter 3

... sobbing. Passengers were screaming and one woman was vomiting in fear. Several other attackers held hostages, and I heard banging and screaming from the front of the plane as they attempted to force the cockpit door. One of the hostages was a burly man, and was probably a poor choice for a spindly terrorist with a knife to take on. The attacker glanced at the dead marshal, and the passenger took advantage of the distraction and ducked under the knife, grabbing the assailant’s arm. A brief struggle ensued, and he quickly disarmed and stabbed the hijacker, dropping him to the floor. Several other men seemed to take heart in this, and jumped up from their seats, rushing the terrorists. I saw at least 2 go down fighting, but others had more luck, subduing the knife-wielding assholes and disarming them. The plane was more steady now, but below the cloud cover. I caught a glimpse of the vast Indian Ocean below us as I crept unobserved out of the galley and hid behind the service cart a few rows up the aisle. I motioned Sharon to stay behind me as I peered out from behind the cart. One of the Arabic women in a burka was two rows up, and appeared to be pulling something out of the carry-on bag they had brought aboard in Johannesburg. At this point several members of the passenger resistance movement rushed the gunman in the center of the plane. I had to admire their courage, but they didn’t stand a chance. He began firing at them, dropping 4 men cleanly, until his next shot missed ...

... and shattered one of the windows. A hurricane of wind began roaring through the plane as the cabin depressurized. The pilot must have realized the problem, for again the plane fell out of the sky in a sustained free-fall as he brought our altitude down to a level at which we wouldn’t all suffocate. The gunman was howling in rage, hurling his now empty gun at one of the surviving heroes, and passengers all over the plane were screaming. Under cover of the deafening chaos, I began pushing the cart up the aisle ahead of me. I could see the burka-clad female terrorist pulling another of the plastic guns out of a bag in front of her, obviously intending to resupply the ringleader. I quickly shoved the cart forward until I was next to her, and grabbed the gun in her outstretched arm before she could do so. She screeched and began clawing at my face with one hand, and fought like a tigress to prevent me getting control of the weapon. Suddenly bullets began erupting from the gun as she squeezed the trigger reflexively. By the purest of chances, the first bullet plugged her boss right in the forehead. As my weight dragged her arm downward, several shots penetrated the emergency exit door, entering the wing, and others punctured the floor. By the time she had emptied the weapon, ominous grinding noises were emanating from beneath us, and smoke was erupting from the port engine. The plane shuddered and descended rapidly toward the ocean below us. I caught a glimpse of a beautiful tropical ...