Big Trouble

It figured to be an easy flight. Most of the scheduled passengers had missed their connecting flights into Miami because of the bad weather in Chicago. Unger had loaded just eleven bags onto the plane. When he came up the stairs into the waiting area and punched up the passenger list on the computer, he found only eight names, half of which, he noted with mild interest, were John Smith. There were four passengers in the waiting area; these were two couples, retired postal workers and their wives, all originally from Ohio, now living in Naples, Florida. They had driven across the state that afternoon to take advantage of the bargain Air Impact! fares on flights to the Bahamas, where they planned to play keno. They were anxious to get out of Miami International Airport, which they regarded as the most foreign place they had ever been, including Italy, which they had visited once on a group tour with other retired postal workers.

They looked up expectantly, as Unger, wearing grimy dark blue shorts, a blue short-sleeved work shirt, work boots, and kneepads, propped open the door to the stairwell. He picked up the receiver of a wall-mounted phone, punched in a code, and said, in a booming voice, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Air Impact! Flight 2038 to beautiful downtown Freeport is now ready for passenger boarding through this door right here. We'd like to begin our boarding tonight with ... "—he pretended to look around the almost-deserted waiting area, then pointed at the retirees—"YOU lovely people!" The retirees shuffled over and gave him their tickets. He told them to go downstairs and head out to the plane. They asked him how they would know which plane. He told them it was the plane that said Air Impact! in great big letters on the side. They did not like his tone one bit.

It was now ten minutes before the scheduled departure, and Unger was thinking about closing the door, when Puggy, lugging the suitcase, entered the waiting area, followed closely by Snake and Jenny, followed by Eddie. They moved in a tight, strange-looking little clot over to Unger. Snake handed Unger the tickets.

"Ah," said Unger. "The John Smiths."

Snake gave Unger a don't-fuck-with-me stare. Unger responded with an I-don't-give-a-shit shrug. His feeling was, whoever these people were, they were soon going to be not his problem. He gestured toward the doorway.

"Plane's downstairs," he said.

The clot went down the stairs, with Unger closing the door behind them and following them out to the tarmac. He gestured toward the plane, where the retired couples, complaining loudly about not getting any help, were ascending the narrow fold-down stairway at the rear of the plane, slowly and laboriously, as though it were the last fifty feet of the Everest summit.

Unger followed Snake's clot to the plane. When they reached it, he reached for the suitcase, telling Puggy, "I'll take that."

Snake grabbed Unger's arm. "It goes onna plane," he said.

"I'm gonna put it on the plane," said Unger. "You get it back in Freeport."

"I mean it rides with us," said Snake.

"Can't," said Unger. "Too big. FAA regulations."

Snake reached into his pants pocket, pulled out a wad of bills, and handed them to Unger.

"Lemme give you a hand with that suitcase," Unger said. As Snake watched him closely, he grabbed the suitcase—damn, this thing was heavy—and manhandled it to the folding stairs. He was a strong man, but he just barely got it to the top. He left it just inside the doorway opening.

Panting, Unger came back down the stairs. He looked past Snake, toward the terminal.

"Where's your friend going?" he asked.

Snake whirled. Puggy, who had been right next to him, was gone. Snake looked back toward the terminal and saw the stocky shape disappearing through the doorway.

"Motherfucker," said Snake, furious, squeezing Jenny's arm so hard that she cried out. "That punk motherFUCKER." He spun back to Unger.

"When's this plane leave?" he said.

"You wanna go back and get your friend?" asked Unger.

"No, I want this fuckin' plane to leave right now," said Snake.

"It'll leave soon's you get on and the pilots finish the preflight," Unger said. "Five, ten minutes."

"Get on," Snake said to Eddie. Eddie was looking back to where Puggy had disappeared.

"Snake," said Eddie, "I don't think this is ... "

"I said get on the plane," said Snake, using his sweatshirt-gun to prod Eddie exactly the way he had been prodding Puggy. Eddie turned slowly away from the terminal and trudged up the stairs. Snake shoved Jenny up after him. They had to step over the suitcase to get into the aisle.

Unger walked around to the front and signaled to the pilot to slide open his side windshield panel. When the pilot did so, Unger said, "You're set to go."

"What about the guy who ran back to the terminal?" asked the pilot. "He forget something?"