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Two years earlier…
The first officer walked down the stairs of the jet bridge with purpose. He squeezed the yellow earplugs between his fingers, rolling the soft material into cylinders before inserting them into his ears. Engine noise from nearby and passing planes muffled, and as he descended down the jetbridge’s external stairs, he surveyed the night. The air was thick with the humidity that persisted year-round in Kuala Lumpur, and the heavy cotton undershirt he wore beneath his uniform shirt clung to him; the sweat streaming down his back acted as an adhesive. The desire to remove his blazer was overwhelming, but rules were rules. He clicked his flashlight on and began the monotony of his preflight walkaround. Today’s walkaround must appear to be like any other walkaround even though he knew that it was anything but ordinary. As he headed towards the front of the Airbus A340, his flashlight illuminated the nose gear. The tires looked good. He swung the light up into the gear’s assembly, no loose wires, nothing dripping. The nose gear pin was removed, pitot covers were removed–nothing that would necessitate immediate return. He continued his way around the aircraft, looking for any abnormalities, admiring the marvel that was composite and metal.
He looked to the west. In time, this A340 would be converted into the Sword of Allah’s vehicle, transporting its message to the infidels. He reverently touched the aircraft; he would be the one to deliver that message. Today was the beginning of the end of the infidel, and they were blissfully oblivious.
His flashlight shone into the massive engine projecting forward from the right wing. Everything checked out. As he walked back to the rear gear, he ran his hand along the fuselage. He painstakingly ensured the tires weren’t worn and there were no hydraulic leaks. Convinced that the aircraft was in pristine condition, he climbed the stairs of the jet bridge and returned to the aircraft.
As the first officer entered the cockpit, he nodded at Captain Aquino. This was not their first trip together; he knew much of Aquino’s life, his wife, three kids, and two dogs. Aquino had spent many a redeye regaling the first officer with tales of this kid or that and the antics they would get up to. And, of course, pictures. The first officer hung up his blazer and took his seat.
They began the ritual of pre-flight systems check with alarms buzzing, switches flipped, flaps adjusted, and oxygen masks checked. The cockpit contained a separate oxygen system to ensure that the pilots would be safe in the event of a decompression scenario. The first officer spent an extra moment checking his as well as the external oxygen tank during his pre-flight check. All was as it should be.
The gate agent brought up the final paperwork. Flight 356, 342 passengers, 10 flight attendants, and 2 pilots for the 7-hour, 24-minute flight from Kuala Lumpur to Dubai. 354 souls on board.
In less than 2 hours time, there would be only one.
***
The plane pushed back from the gate and began its taxi to runway 32L, and the last five years of planning began to come to fruition. They would take off to the east and circle to the west. They proceeded to the runway. When they were second in line for takeoff, he clicked on the PA system, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are ready for take-off. Flight attendants, please be seated.”
In the cabin, flight attendants unfolded the jumpseats and strapped themselves in. Those sitting next to each other began conversations about their layover plans; others sat meditatively. Passengers settled in for the long flight: some preparing for sleep, others with tablets and laptops glowing in the dimly lit cabin. A baby was heard cooing at its mother, and a child’s voice broke the relative silence with a question. Couples held hands, teens turned up the volume on headphones, and parents hushed children. As the engines began their roar, the forward thrust pushed the passengers deeper into their seats. The heavy plane raced down the runway, gaining speed until, gravity defied, the plane eased its weight from the tires and then lifted from the ground. The baby’s cooing turned to screams as the plane continued its ascent and began to pressurize.
Once the plane reached 3,000 meters, the aircraft’s green indicator light illuminated in the cabin in front of the lead flight attendant. He picked up the phone and switched on the PA system, and in a practiced voice stated, “Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has left the fasten seatbelt sign on. If you plan to sleep on today’s flight, please fasten your seatbelt outside of your blanket or jacket so that we do not have to wake you every time the seatbelt sign is illuminated. Please leave your seatbelts fastened while seated. The flight attendants will begin a beverage and snack service shortly. Once the service is completed, the cabin lights will be lowered for those passengers who wish to sleep. Please don’t hesitate to let us know how we may make your flight more enjoyable. Our flight time today is 7 hours and 24 minutes. Please sit back, relax, and enjoy your flight.”
The first officer unbuckled his shoulder straps and radioed ATC their cruising altitude and current location. Captain Aquino unbuckled his shoulder straps and checked his instruments.
Ninety minutes into the flight a bell rang indicating that the lead flight attendant was calling. The captain answered, “Hello…Okay, we’re ready.” Nodded to the first officer, Aquino announced, “Dinner is served. Want to grab it for us?”
The first officer had anticipated this. He stood and walked to the back of the cockpit, discreetly reaching into his pocket as he opened the door. The lead flight attendant passed two trays through the door. As he took them, the first officer dropped a sugar packet onto the captain’s tray. Aquino was a man of habit; he would use three packets of sugar in his coffee, no cream. Today was no exception. Before taking a bite, Captain Aquino bowed his head and quietly recited du’a, a personal supplication thanking Allah, “Bismillah” (In the name of Allah). He used the shortened version while the first officer, not one to abbreviate religious sentiment, recited the full du’a, “Allahomma barik lana fima razaqtana waqina athaban-nar. Bismillah” (Oh Allah! Bless the food You have provided us and save us from the punishment of the hellfire. In the name of Allah).
While they ate their meal, Captain Aquino chatted casually about his family. It would seem his eldest daughter wanted to apply to universities in England and the United States. It was shortly after explaining his pleasure at his son’s latest exploit that he yawned for the first time. As he looked at his meal, his vision blurred, and his head slumped forward. He was sound asleep. The first officer quickly moved his own meal tray, which was nearly untouched, to the floor behind him and reached for his oxygen mask. As soon as his mask was secured, he turned the dial that would start to depressurize the cabin. An alarm sounded; he reached up, flipping a switch to silence it.
The first officer switched off the autopilot and took manual control of the plane. The plane’s current trajectory was headed west-north-west; he veered the plane west-south-west, entered new coordinates into the autopilot, and absently switched off the aircraft’s transponder. In essence, the aircraft became invisible; ATC would no longer be able to recognize the craft due to the lapse in radar coverage over open ocean. The next check-in with oceanic control would not be expected for at least 35 minutes, so for at least the next 35 to 45 minutes, the ground would remain clueless as to what was happening. In a couple of hours, searches would begin in open ocean for any sign of the aircraft. None would be found.
The pressurization indicator continued to flash silently. He looked over at the captain. His lips were blue and the rise and fall of his chest had ceased. The first officer reached around for the portable oxygen bottle. He changed masks, checked that the autopilot was working properly, and felt for a pulse on the captain’s neck. Secure in the knowledge that he was dead, the first officer left the cockpit to check on the rest of the cabin. The lead flight attendant’s body was sprawled, face first, across the galley floor; a coffee pot lay near his hand, its contents covering the rubberized floor. First-class passengers appeared to be sleeping peacefully; only the blueness of their lips and the occasional pair of staring, sightless eyes broke the facade. He brushed aside the curtain separating first-class from coach without compunction and continued his survey. The glow of computer and tablet screens illuminated the corpses, casting an eerie bluish light, enhancing the ghostly look of the blank gazes. A baby lay lifeless across its mother’s lap; an elderly man slumped across the armrest into the aisle; a flight attendant’s inert body blocked his path as he continued aft. He stepped over it, not bothering to check for signs of life. The mid-cabin galley resembled the streets of Aleppo after a firefight. Flight attendants’ bodies littered the floor in various states of disarray. He continued his count of flight attendants and proceeded through the cabin. The aft galley was in a similar state. All 10 flight attendants were accounted for. As he returned to the cockpit, focused on the next phase of the mission, he could feel the dead stare of his victims passing judgment. He shook it off, knowing that the ends would justify the means. “Allah’s will be done,” he thought as he entered the cockpit and closed the door behind him.