goggles as he stared past the infinite blue sky at the world below.
The cameraman reached up and turned on the camera, ready to record the moment, and moved behind Evans.
"All you've got to do is tumble forward, just like we talked about on the ground," Evans yelled over the headset.
Dixon didn't say anything. His body was frozen, his eyes wide and staring at an adversary only he could see.
"Nothing can happen," Evans said.
"I do this every day. You're golden."
Dixon's arms were shaking. At first Conway thought it was from the wind. Then he saw that Dixon's mouth was moving, his words inaudible, his head shaking, No.
"I can't," Dixon said, his voice small under the plane's engines.
"What did you say?" Evans yelled back.
"I can't, I I can't do this." His tone had a fevered pitch to it, each word growing louder.
"Dude, you can do this," Evans said.
"I can't."
"You going to puss out right here in front of your friend?"
Conway said, "Back off."
"Hey, once we turn around, no refunds," Evans replied.
"That's the deal."
Dixon pushed himself away from the door, knocking Evans back. Dixon looked over to Conway for a sign of support. When Conway didn't answer right away, Dixon's face turned red, his eyes shining with venom, the look of a man cornered and prepared to come out swinging.
"You were right, Steve, I didn't have the balls to do it! You fucking won! I'm a fucking pussy!"
Oh shit, he's having a panic attack. Conway said, "Dix, you're not a pussy."
"It's what you're thinking It's what you're all thinking!" Dixon spat through his clenched teeth.
"I can see it on your faces!"
"Dix, listen to me. It's no big deal. You're beating yourself up for nothing. It's all " A force like a brick wall slammed into Conway's chest and knocked him back against his seat. His body slumped to the floor. His head came to rest with a hard thump against the side of the plane.
Conway felt dazed. He tried to move and found he couldn't. His muscles weren't listening. They were limp and useless, and his eyes felt heavy. He could see Dixon clearly, could see the perplexed look on Dixon's face, Dix, unaware of the syringe in Evans's hand.
Dix, turn around, the guy's got a needle. Conway could hear the words clearly in his head, could feel the fear and urgency behind them. He wanted to push them out, but his throat wouldn't work.
"Steve, what's going on?" Dixon asked, frightened.
Evans sunk the needle deep into Dixon's neck and pressed down on the plunger. By the time Dixon felt the sting and moved his hand up to touch his neck, the needle was gone.
"Steve Help me, please."
Then Dixon's head slumped forward and the rest of his body went limp.
Evans jumped out of the plane with Dixon attached to him. Conway sat there, powerless to stop it. Dixon was gone.
The cameraman placed the end of the stun baton just inches from Conway's eyes. The charge dancing between the two metal prongs looked like an electric blue and white snake.
"When I'm through with you, they won't even be able to donate your organs," the cameraman said, smiling, and hit Conway in the waist with the charge. Conway's body writhed until his mind turned off and everything went black.
His own kidnapping that seemed the appropriate word came when he was only five weeks into a six-month planned vacation a sabbatical, really.
Conway was entitled to the time, he had earned it. Christ, he had been going nonstop since he graduated from college and that was… God, that was coming up on nine years ago. Time seemed to be moving at the speed of light. He blinked and the next thing he knew he was eight months away from turning thirty. The pull of his own mortality consumed his thoughts. He was coming to grips with the fact that his life was nothing more than a finite line held together moment to moment by chance and luck.
Of course the shooting had something to do with all of this. How could it not? Every time he closed his eyes he could see Armand's shaking hand, with its
The cameraman reached up and turned on the camera, ready to record the moment, and moved behind Evans.
"All you've got to do is tumble forward, just like we talked about on the ground," Evans yelled over the headset.
Dixon didn't say anything. His body was frozen, his eyes wide and staring at an adversary only he could see.
"Nothing can happen," Evans said.
"I do this every day. You're golden."
Dixon's arms were shaking. At first Conway thought it was from the wind. Then he saw that Dixon's mouth was moving, his words inaudible, his head shaking, No.
"I can't," Dixon said, his voice small under the plane's engines.
"What did you say?" Evans yelled back.
"I can't, I I can't do this." His tone had a fevered pitch to it, each word growing louder.
"Dude, you can do this," Evans said.
"I can't."
"You going to puss out right here in front of your friend?"
Conway said, "Back off."
"Hey, once we turn around, no refunds," Evans replied.
"That's the deal."
Dixon pushed himself away from the door, knocking Evans back. Dixon looked over to Conway for a sign of support. When Conway didn't answer right away, Dixon's face turned red, his eyes shining with venom, the look of a man cornered and prepared to come out swinging.
"You were right, Steve, I didn't have the balls to do it! You fucking won! I'm a fucking pussy!"
Oh shit, he's having a panic attack. Conway said, "Dix, you're not a pussy."
"It's what you're thinking It's what you're all thinking!" Dixon spat through his clenched teeth.
"I can see it on your faces!"
"Dix, listen to me. It's no big deal. You're beating yourself up for nothing. It's all " A force like a brick wall slammed into Conway's chest and knocked him back against his seat. His body slumped to the floor. His head came to rest with a hard thump against the side of the plane.
Conway felt dazed. He tried to move and found he couldn't. His muscles weren't listening. They were limp and useless, and his eyes felt heavy. He could see Dixon clearly, could see the perplexed look on Dixon's face, Dix, unaware of the syringe in Evans's hand.
Dix, turn around, the guy's got a needle. Conway could hear the words clearly in his head, could feel the fear and urgency behind them. He wanted to push them out, but his throat wouldn't work.
"Steve, what's going on?" Dixon asked, frightened.
Evans sunk the needle deep into Dixon's neck and pressed down on the plunger. By the time Dixon felt the sting and moved his hand up to touch his neck, the needle was gone.
"Steve Help me, please."
Then Dixon's head slumped forward and the rest of his body went limp.
Evans jumped out of the plane with Dixon attached to him. Conway sat there, powerless to stop it. Dixon was gone.
The cameraman placed the end of the stun baton just inches from Conway's eyes. The charge dancing between the two metal prongs looked like an electric blue and white snake.
"When I'm through with you, they won't even be able to donate your organs," the cameraman said, smiling, and hit Conway in the waist with the charge. Conway's body writhed until his mind turned off and everything went black.
His own kidnapping that seemed the appropriate word came when he was only five weeks into a six-month planned vacation a sabbatical, really.
Conway was entitled to the time, he had earned it. Christ, he had been going nonstop since he graduated from college and that was… God, that was coming up on nine years ago. Time seemed to be moving at the speed of light. He blinked and the next thing he knew he was eight months away from turning thirty. The pull of his own mortality consumed his thoughts. He was coming to grips with the fact that his life was nothing more than a finite line held together moment to moment by chance and luck.
Of course the shooting had something to do with all of this. How could it not? Every time he closed his eyes he could see Armand's shaking hand, with its
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