Twilight Zone The Movie (19 page)

But her words were punctuated by a loud bang as the plane bucked again and the overhead compartment flew open. She reached up to close it, but another violent lurch toppled her backward across the aisle and into the lap of the sky marshal.

Almost simultaneously, three more overhead lockers burst open. The door of a closet opposite the galley suddenly swung forward. An oxygen cylinder toppled out and began to roll down the aisle.

With each convulsive movement of the plane came an accompaniment of terrifying sound—a combination of structural stress and engine protest that resonated through the confines of the cabin. Over the violent vibration, the murmur of frightened passengers arose.

Leaning forward, Valentine peered along the aisle. Nobody was watching him now. The young couple up ahead were clinging to each other like frightened monkeys swaying in a storm-swept treetop. The fat man was clutching the armrest, his eyes closed, jowls quivering. The little girl in the seat before him gripped her precious Polaroid tightly. Valentine couldn’t see her face, nor that of the elderly woman seated behind him, but he heard her clearly as she addressed the old man beside her:

“This is not very amusing!”

“What do you mean?” her husband replied. “It’s a million laughs! Haven’t you ever been on a roller coaster before?”

Valentine wasn’t laughing. And this wasn’t a roller coaster ride. It wasn’t just turbulence either—something besides the storm was responsible for such rapid pitching and yawing—the sensation was so intense that it felt as if the entire plane was being ripped and shaken by some gigantic hand. Something else was at work out there, some maniacal force—

Impulsively, he reached out and jerked up the window-blind. Staring past his reflection, staring through the rushing rain streaming over the wing, staring through the inky darkness punctuated by the flicker of the beacon light, he saw it again.

The naked man—the ape, the creature—was crouching at the far end and rocking the wing flaps back and forth. Valentine’s eyes widened in shock as the creature turned to acknowledge his presence with a ghastly grin. Valentine jerked his head away, seeking reassurance in reality.

But as his eyes scanned the confines of the cabin, he found no comfort. Fighting to maintain balance in the midst of momentum of motion, the young couple still clung to one another; the little girl gripped her camera in one hand and clung to her armrest with the other as she bounced in rhythm to every pitch and plunge. Across the aisle, the sky marshal hunched forward with lowered head, ashen lips moving as he twisted the beads in his hand, reciting the rosary.

Stifling an impulse to scream, Valentine turned to stare out the window once again. What he saw stunned him into silence.

The silver-skinned creature was sitting astride the inboard engine, its claws ripping off the cowling!

No use trying to scream now; Valentine’s throat muscles were contracted with terror.

As the cowling tore loose, the creature dipped one clawlike hand into the opening, pulling out bits and pieces of the engine and tossing them over his shoulder.

Valentine shuddered convulsively, trying to avert his gaze, but his paralyzed muscles refused to respond.

Now, incredibly, the apparition squatting on the wing was tearing loose a fuel line. Oil gushed forth, spraying like water from a garden hose. As Valentine watched, the creature bent forward, encircling the loose end with greedy lips.

Oh no he’s drinking from it!

Summoning all his strength, Valentine heaved backward and turned to face the cabin’s interior once more.

Here another shock awaited him. The little girl stood in the aisle beside him, swaying to maintain her balance and aiming her Polaroid toward his face.

“No you don’t!” Valentine cried. “Give it to me!” His hand lunged out, tugging the camera from her grasp. Then he turned to the window, raising the Polaroid and squinting through the view-finder until it focused on the figure beyond the pane. The camera clicked; lowering it, he tore the strip of exposed film free and held it up, waiting for the photo to develop.

“Hey, turkey! Gimme that back!” The child grabbed at the camera in his other hand and Valentine made no resistance. As she moved away he sat in agonized impatience, watching the image emerge on the film. Gradually a shadowy shape appeared, still blurred and indistinguishable.

The plane lurched sharply. Holding the print between his fingers, Valentine jerked around in his seat to peer through the window once more.

The creature had changed position. For a moment Valentine was conscious of a bulge between its shoulder blades as though the thing had a hump on its back. But there was no time to discern it clearly; all he could do was stare as the creature leaned over the leading edge of the engine pod. It was throwing fragments of the engine into the turbine intake!

The engine screamed its protest through the night. The creature looked up at Valentine with its mocking grin, then dropped more metal fragments into the intake. The plane thrashed violently.

Valentine let the photo fall from his hand. Who cared about the picture—if that creature out there wasn’t stopped, another engine would be destroyed and then—

Something bumped against the base of Valentine’s seat. Glancing down, he saw the oxygen cylinder rolling in the aisle below. Scooping it up he lunged at the window, smashing at the Plexiglas. As he did so, he found his voice and raised it in a shout.

“It’s real, there’s a thing out there—!”

The sky marshal dived across the aisle, dragging him away from the window.. As they fell back, Valentine let the oxygen cylinder drop. For a moment the two men struggled, but the fat man’s weight was no match for the strength born of Valentine’s fear. Desperately, he freed his right hand and reached down to yank the hand gun from the sky marshal’s ankle holster. Wrenching free, he aimed the weapon at the window and fired.

There was a shatter of glass—then the irresistible rush of air as the cabin decompressed. Magazines, plastic cups, and table napkins whirled wildly. Oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling, dangling and twisting like suspended serpents.

The force of the implosion sucked Valentine halfway through the window and the fat man grabbed his legs, hanging on for dear life. Icy wind ripped across his face, filling his nostrils with frozen fire and half blinding him with its fury.

In the aisle behind them the senior stewardess staggered and fell; plates and silverware poured forth from the galley shelves. Amidst screams and shouts drowned by the sound of the wind, a thump echoed as the overhead projecter module dropped down from the ceiling and the inflight movie started up on its own accord. As the movie screen swung back and forth in the gusting wind, the studio logo flickered on.

Valentine saw none of this. Still protruding halfway from the window, thrashing about against the horrendous wind-blast as the fat man frantically clutched his legs, he stared out at the creature on the wing.

Now it turned, grinning again.

It’s coming after me!

Summoning his last ounce of strength, Valentine raised the hand gun still clutched between his fingers and fired.

The bullet found its mark in the creature’s stomach. Casually, the thing reached down and plucked the missile off his hide the way one would remove some annoying insect. Raising the bullet to his gaping mouth, he
swallowed
it.

Then he advanced along the wing toward Valentine.

Valentine squeezed the trigger again . . . and again . . .

The creature’s claws rose with blinding speed, picking the bullets out of the air like flies, gulping them down as he moved nearer.

Ultimately, Valentine’s finger kept pressing the trigger, even after he realized the bullets were spent.

Now, as he looked up, the grinning face loomed before him. One claw darted out and Valentine felt the cruel talons close around his wrist. Then it released its grip and grabbed the gun.

Raising the weapon to its mouth the creature began to chomp on the barrel, chewing it up bit by bit like a child eating a candy bar.

At that moment a bright light burst from somewhere below, flaring up into its face.

The creature glanced down quickly and Valentine followed its gaze.

Below him he saw the landing lights of the airport-runway beacons blazing through the clear air beneath the cloudbank.

The silvery thing turned back again, frowning for a moment, its arms extended. Valentine, wedged in the window, waited his final fate.

Then, as the lights grew stronger, the monstrosity glanced at him once more. For a moment, Valentine could have sworn it winked at him, its outstretched claw waggling in a playful gesture.

Playful?
Had it merely been
playing
all along? Now it turned and Valentine watched as the humplike mass between its shoulder blades suddenly extended and expanded into webbed wings. The creature moved back, its wings spreading wide, then plunged forward and soared off into the night.

That was when Valentine fainted.

He was still unconscious when the wheels of the aircraft touched the glistening tarmac. He didn’t see the passengers or hear their excited interchange as they stumbled down the steps and straggled across to the terminal gates. He wasn’t aware of being pulled back to safety in the cabin as the plane made its descent, nor did he awaken when the ambulance crew arrived to bring him out of the cabin and wheel him into the waiting ambulance below.

He never saw the fully developed Polaroid he’d taken and perhaps that was just as well.

It was the senior stewardess who picked it up eventually from the debris-strewn cabin floor and stared down at the image—the image of Valentine. He had taken a photo of his own reflection.

Nor did Valentine see the mangled, smoking engines as the ground crew clustered around them. One of the mechanics approached with a scowl. “Hey—what gives?”

Then he and the others stepped back hastily. There was a shrill grating sound as the inboard pod gave way, and the engine dropped onto the tarmac with a crash.

The scowling mechanic shook his head, then raised his eyes to ask the final question:
“What happened up there?”

There was no answer. The skies above were clear in the gathering twilight.

Or were they . . .?