isn't it? I mean, I've already pinched myself. Several times. Nothing changed."
"It's real."
"It doesn't seem real," Bethany said. "It seems like one of those stupid disaster movies. Airport 1990, something like that. I keep looking around for a couple of old actors like Wilford Brimley and Olivia De Havilland. They're supposed to meet during the shitstorm and fall in love, you know?"
"I don't think they're on the plane," Laurel said gravely. They glanced into each other's eyes and for a moment they almost laughed together. It could have made them friends if it had happened... but it didn't. Not quite.
"What about you, Laurel? Do you have a disaster-movie problem?"
"I'm afraid not," Laurel replied... and then she did begin to laugh. Because the thought which shot across her mind in red neon was Oh you liar!
Bethany put a hand over her mouth and giggled.
"Jesus," she said after a minute. "I mean, this is the ultimate hairball, you know?"
Laurel nodded. "I know." She paused and then asked, "Do you need a rehab, Bethany?"
"I don't know." She turned to look out the window again. Her smile was gone and her voice was morose. "I guess I might. I used to think it was just party-time, but now I don't know. I guess it's out of control. But getting shipped off this way... I feel like a pig in a slaughterhouse chute."
"I'm sorry," Laurel said, but she was also sorry for herself. The blind girl had already adopted her; she did not need a second adoptee. Now that she was fully awake again she found herself scared - badly scared. She did not want to be behind this kid's dumpster if she was going to offload a big pile of disaster-movie angst. The thought made her grin again; she simply couldn't help it. It was the ultimate hairball. It really was.
"I'm sorry, too," Bethany said, "but I guess this is the wrong time to worry about it, huh?"
"I guess maybe it is," Laurel said.
"The pilot never disappeared in any of those Airport movies, did he?"
"Not that I remember."
"It's almost six o'clock. Two and a half hours to go."
"Yes."
"If only the world's still there," Bethany said, "that'll be enough for a start." She looked closely at Laurel again. "I don't suppose you've got any grass, do you?"
"I'm afraid not."
Bethany shrugged and offered Laurel a tired smile which was oddly winning. "Well," she said, "you're one ahead of me - I'm just afraid."
6
Some time later, Brian Engle rechecked his heading, his airspeed, his navigational figures, and his charts. Last of all he checked his wristwatch. It was two minutes past eight.
"Well," he said, to Nick without looking around, "I think it's about that time. Shit or git."
He reached forward and flicked on the FASTEN SEATBELTS sign. The bell made its low, pleasant chime. Then he flicked the intercom toggle and picked up the mike.
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen. This is Captain Engle again. We're currently over the Atlantic Ocean, roughly thirty miles east of the Maine coast, and I'll be commencing our initial descent into the Bangor area very soon. Under ordinary circumstances I wouldn't turn on the seatbelt sign so early, but these circumstances aren't ordinary, and my mother always said prudence is the better part of valor. In that spirit, I want you to make sure your lap-belts are snug and secure. Conditions below us don't look especially threatening, but since I have no radio communication, the weather is going to be something of a surprise package for all of us. I kept hoping the clouds would break, and I did see a few small holes over Vermont, but I'm afraid they've closed up again. I can tell you from my experience as a pilot that the clouds you see below us don't suggest very bad weather to me. I think the weather in Bangor may be overcast, with some light rain. I'm beginning our descent now. Please be calm; my board is green across and all procedures here on the flight deck remain routine."
Brian had not bothered programming the autopilot for descent; he now began the process himself. He brought the plane around in a long, slow turn, and the seat beneath him canted slightly forward as the 767 began its slow glide down toward the clouds at 4,000 feet.
"Very comforting, that," Nick said. "You should have been a politician, matey."
"I doubt if they're feeling very comfortable right now," Brian said. "I know I'm not."