Leo’s Mysterious Flight Nightmare Unfolds

Leo had no experience flying in the west of the Mississippi River and had always flown with someone beside him. But here he was: A boy of nineteen, a freshman in community college, makes his way through the massive terminal of Reagan National with a damaged suitcase. The signs for B6, A14, and TSA Pre looked foreign to him, making him feel like he was in some dream-like train station.

Forcing himself to stay calm, he made sure to reiterate where he was going: “Seattle. Gate 13. Flight 922.”

His mother was the one who suggested the idea first. “Your uncle offered, Leo. Take him up on it. You need the change.” She may have been referring to Virginia, her home, or the incident with Maya that took place in a Wawa parking lot two months before. Either way, he hadn’t argued. He stuffed a few T-shirts and a half-finished music folder and let the feeling of being heartbroken drive him to hop on a jet.

Babies crying, suitcases zooming, and announcement voices overlapping filled the terminal with much action. Leo stopped and turned in all directions, trying to hide that he had no idea what he was doing. Everyone else moved with purpose. He didn’t possess any skill except for trying not to make a mistake.

He saw that a help kiosk was up ahead, but many people had gathered around it already. So he glanced over the monitors, which showed the flight times for different planes. There it was: The flight was on time, and it departed from Seattle Gate 13. Terminal A.

Leo checked the indicators before looking out for Terminal A.

“Gate 13,” he repeated softly as if it were some magic sentence.

Leo had never flown in the western part of the country by himself and was always flying with someone by his side. But here he was: A teenager, newly enrolled in community college and nineteen years old, walks through the busy Reagan National Airport with a bad case. The symbols on the boards for B6, A14, and TSA Pre made him think he was inside a movie instead of a train station.

Remaining calm, he went through his speech and confirmed his destination to himself: “Seattle. Gate 13. Flight 922.”

The idea came to him through his mother’s suggestion. “Your uncle offered, Leo. Take him up on it. You need the change.” It’s possible she mentioned Virginia, as it’s where she lives, or the argument with Maya that happened in a Wawa parking lot two months ago. Either way, he hadn’t argued. With only a few shirts in his bag and a work song that wasn’t finished being written, he decided to fly out and face his broken heart.

There were a lot of things happening in the terminal, such as babies crying, suitcases zooming again, and voices of announcements overlapping. Leo froze, then turned around in every direction to hide the fact that he didn’t know where to go. Everyone else moved with purpose. He didn’t have any ability except to avoid errors.

He noticed that a help kiosk was coming up, but it was surrounded by people waiting for help. He took a look at the screens, where he could see the flight times for different flying machines. There it was: I was glad that the flight left on time and came from Gate 13 in Seattle. Terminal A.

Before heading to Terminal A, Leo reviewed all the information his flight controls gave him.

“Gate 13,” he said gently as if it were holding some secret power.

Ten minutes after browsing at Hudson News stands and looking at the expensive airport bars, he arrived at what he assumed was Terminal A. Once he spotted a security line, he gave his boarding pass and was sent through. He even didn’t slow down the conveyor belt when he accidentally forgot to take off his belt. Baby steps.

When he was all prepared to go and tightened his shoelaces, a woman suddenly appeared near him. “You OK, hon?” she asked.

Leo blinked. Her beauty had him mesmerized—she was quite tall with sleek platinum hair pulled up into a neat chignon. Her blazer was made of navy blue material and had silver trimmings. A badge was pinned to her dress, but instead of reading TSA or airport security, it just said “CUSTOMER EXPERIENCE OFFICER.”

“Uh, yeah,” Leo said. “Just trying to make my way to Gate 13.”

She started to help me right away, smiling with cheer. She had eyes that cut through the room with a blue like the rays of the sun. “Sometimes, directions aren’t as clear as they should be.” This airport’s a maze.”

She kept pace with him, moving quickly and looking at his boarding pass. “You’re flying Alaska?”

“Yeah. Seattle.”

“Oh,” she said, lips tightening. “No wonder. They just moved the gate. You’re in the wrong wing.”

His heart sank. “Seriously?”

“I know. It’s a mess. Don’t worry, I will show you the way.”

She strode along swiftly through the airport, ready for her next move. Leo tried to keep up.

They turned a corner, and she looked at the boy, asking him, “What’s your name?”

“Leo. Uh, Leonard. But I go by Leo.”

“Nice to meet you, Leo. I’m Marla.”

Nearer the core, the corridors shrunk, and noticeboards were few and far between. It became clear that they met fewer people along the way. No shops, no snack stands. There is no artwork, just walls and lights that won’t keep still.

“Is Terminal A still the one we are supposed to use?”

Marla chuckled softly. “We’re going a faster way. This is mainly used by staff members, but it’s OK with me if you use it. You’ve got a tight window.”

Leo glanced at his watch. He had a bit over an hour to kill before he had to get on the plane. But before he could say so, Marla opened a door that had a sign saying, “Only staff can enter,” and pointed for him to join her.

The hallway was dark and looked factory-like, and the walls were all dull grey. Somewhere overhead, something hummed.

“Are you sure this is OK?” he said.

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think we’d both enjoy it. Her tone was softly serious as if she meant what she said.

Something about the way she talked made him feel more at ease. He followed.

They came to a corner that was a lot tighter and harder to get through. Then, suddenly, Marla went to a metal door that looked pretty boring.

“Here we are,” she said, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. “Just through there. They’re waiting.”

“Who?”

“The gate attendants. Plane’s boarding early.”

Leo blinked. “But... you have my bag.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” Go on. They’ll check you in as soon as you get over to that side. No time to lose.”

The hairs on Leo’s neck stood up as if someone was watching him. “Are you sure? I thought I had to swipe my pass across the reader—”

“No need,” she said, smiling a little but somehow still seeming serious. “It’s all in the system. Trust me.”

And somehow, Leo did.

He stepped through the metal door, and sight burst in the sunlight. The space looked just like a terminal gate—windows were looking out to the runway, and a bridge stretched out to the plane like a long tongue. But something was... off. The air was too still. The lighting flickered, kind of like an old TV screen. No signage. There is no airline logo. Just a woman in the airport, at the entrance to the plane, sending him a goodbye wave.

“Come on, sweetheart!” she called. “Plane’s ready!”

Leo took a few steps forward, looking a bit unsure but agreeing to go with the others. The woman pushed him like a sheep into the tunnel. His thoughts became slower, and he felt everything around him was moving much more slowly. It felt just as hard as trying to think while you are underwater.

The plane was full. Rows and rows of people sit there in silent quiet, each seat taken. Each person stood there in place, not moving at all, their eyes empty like statues.

24C was where he sat, not because he was asked, but because that’s who he is. It looked like his limbs were following a set path as he moved. He held onto his backpack as if it were keeping him safe from harm.

The door closed, and he made a loud hiss as he walked out.

The plane began to move.

As Leo closed his eyes and blinked, all his memories came back to him.

Wait.

Where am I?

Something isn’t right.

He had his boarding pass ready.

Alaska Air 922. Gate 13. Terminal A.

He looked at the signs that appeared above each row. This wasn’t Alaska. The aircraft had no airline logo on it.

The intercom crackled.

“Welcome, passengers, to Flight 575. Estimated travel time: indeterminate. Destination: classified.”

Leo’s stomach dropped.

“Wait!” he stood up. “I’m not supposed to be—”

A stewardess came up to him, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Sir, please remain seated. You’ll adjust soon.”

“Adjust to what?” he said with growing panic.

She just smiled; her teeth seemed too many and too white for comfort.

Another passenger sitting on the other side looked slowly at him. Then another. And another.

They all appeared with the same empty and hard grin.

Leo’s mouth went dry.

He pressed the call button. No one came.

The plane gained altitude.

All that was left below were the airport lights.

Nothing comes after the stars except for clouds and, above those, endless space.

Too many stars. Closer than they should be.

He kept his hands on the armrest, breathing only slightly in and out. “This isn’t real,” he whispered.

But in room 24D, another woman whispered to him, telling him that it was real. For now.”

He could not understand what she was saying.

Deep down, he started to worry that he might end up that way soon.