Angel's Demon

4. Flight LT191

4. Flight LT191

Asmodeus made his way to one of the many exits in hell. When he was outside of Satan’s domain he transported himself topside. In a matter of seconds, he was aboveground. It would be a near impossible thing to transport directly into a moving plane, unless he knew exactly where it was. Far better to board a plane as a passenger, and strike when the time was right.

The house in which Asmodeus arrived was empty, as were the neighbouring houses. All of them were to be demolished, to make way for a new runway. Their proximity to a major airport, and knowing that no one would be around to see him arrive, was what had drawn Asmodeus to this location. There were times when it paid to glance at the articles in the topside newspapers Satan was so fond of reading. The previous owners of the homes in this neighbourhood had been very vocal about their rights being violated, and the press had lapped it up.

It was a short walk from the house to the airport. Asmodeus studied the international departures board. Flight LT191 was now boarding at Gate 4. Its destination was Sydney, Australia. That meant many hours flying over what would seem like an endless ocean — the perfect place for a plane to crash, never to be seen or heard from again.

Asmodeus headed towards the only door that allowed passengers access to the international departures lounge and gates.

A security guard stepped in front of him, just as he reached the door. “Sir, you need to check-in before you can go through this door,” he said in a non-threatening manner, pointing towards the check-in counters. He was used to people getting confused about where to go and what to do. They responded better when treated with respect. It would be easy to believe the worst of everybody, yet this man liked to think bad people were the exception instead of the rule.

Rather than draw further attention to himself, Asmodeus thanked the guard and headed in the direction he had pointed to. Asmodeus joined the line and closely observed what those in front of him did. When one of the check-in staff happened to glance up and make eye contact with him, Asmodeus seized his chance to send a subliminal message. Ryan, the staff member in question, would now do what he’d been told to do.

Ryan waved at Asmodeus, who feigned surprise by looking in either direction, then pointing at himself. He pushed his way through the queue until he was standing in front of the check-in counter. Ryan glanced down at the floor, looking for luggage.

“Do you have any luggage, sir?” Ryan asked.

“No,” Asmodeus replied. “I like to travel light.”

“May I have your ticket and passport please, sir.”

Asmodeus reached into this pocket and pulled out two blank documents and handed them over. He knew what a ticket and passport looked like, but he didn’t know what was written on them. He hadn’t had enough time to investigate any further. And of course, when you don’t normally use conventional methods of transportation, why would you bother to find out about such things?

Ryan blinked twice at what he’d been handed. Was this man having him on? The queue was almost out the door, and here was someone wasting his time.

“Listen, Ryan,” Asmodeus began. He waited until Ryan looked up and made eye contact before continuing. “The documents for John Smith, that’s me by the way, are in order. Just do what you have to do so I can get through those doors and catch my flight.”

Ryan’s eyes glazed over. He was caught in Asmodeus’s thrall. “I need to know which flight you’ll be travelling on today, Mr Smith.”

“The one to Sydney, LT191,” Asmodeus replied.

“That’s already boarding, Mr Smith. You’re rather late checking in.”

“I don’t give a damn. You get me on that flight, or the next one. The destination doesn’t matter, as long as it gets off the ground.”

“Not a problem, Mr Smith, I’ll make sure you don’t miss your flight,” Ryan said. “I’m just allocating a seat.” Ryan typed furiously on the keyboard. “And printing your boarding pass.”

When the pass was printed, Ryan handed it to Asmodeus, along with his other documents. He smiled before saying, “You can head on through to security and customs now, Mr Smith. Have a nice day.”

Asmodeus snatched the documents from Ryan’s hand and stormed off in the direction of the doors he had tried to enter less than half an hour before. He would need to beguile a few more people before he could get on the plane.

The security guard who had directed Asmodeus to the check-in counter nodded. As the doors opened, he inclined his head in Asmodeus’s direction and said, “Have a nice day sir.”

“I plan to,” Asmodeus snorted.

Another queue awaited him as he passed through the doors. Pockets were being emptied, bags were being checked, and people lined up to walk through a metal archway. Occasionally a metallic screeching would pierce the constant buzz of chatter, and lights would flash above the arch. Whomever had emerged on the other side of the archway would be ushered to the side. There they would be asked to raise their arms and spread their feet, while a strange black and yellow rectangular bat was waved over their body.

“Never seen a hand-held scanner before?” the man behind Asmodeus asked him.

“No,” Asmodeus replied.

“Wow, you must have been living under a rock,” the man laughed.

Asmodeus glanced over his shoulder to look at the man. One glare from him was all it took for the colour to drain from the man’s face.

There was nothing here for Asmodeus to fear. After all, they were only mortal, and he almost a god. The archway remained silent as Asmodeus stepped through it, though an alarm resounded in his head, as if it knew what he was and was afraid to say it aloud.

With the screening process complete, he pushed his way through the throng of slow-moving cattle. Eventually the crowd thinned out as he neared Gate 4.

Squealing children blocked his path for a moment, with their game of tag. Some of them danced around him, using him as a shield. They were like a cloud of bloodsucking mosquitos — the vampires of the animal kingdom — waiting for an opportunity to feed, and transmit some disgusting disease at the same time. He raised his arm, as if to strike them, when a woman yelled out, “Leave that poor man alone!”

The children scattered. They knew the tone of that voice and had learned over the years to do as it said, or face the consequences.

Asmodeus took a deep breath. He could smell the fear that the mother had instilled in her children. It warmed his heart. He smiled and continued to the Gate 4 departure area, which was empty of passengers.

The flight attendant greeted Asmodeus, scanned his boarding pass and handed it back to him.

As it turned out, Asmodeus wasn’t the last passenger to board. Stepping onto the plane, just behind him, was someone who reeked of Him. Asmodeus stopped and turned around to get a look at the person — an ordinary-looking man in a black suit, with the sign of the cross on the collar of his shirt. He was a man of the cloth.

Asmodeus sneered at the priest before continuing to his seat. He knew that the stench of godliness would circulate through the plane’s air-conditioning and pervade every pore of his body. The thought of such vileness contaminating his very being disgusted him. It would take the purification of fire to be rid of it. The priest would need to be held in a cell on his own, one that could contain the pungent stench of righteousness, lest it infect the others.

Before he sat down, Asmodeus glanced up and down the aisle, committing even the smallest detail to memory — the woman with the loud nasally laugh, the young couple making googly eyes at each other, and the man who had seemingly fallen asleep.

The plane appeared to be packed to capacity. Asmodeus didn’t know exactly how many people were on board, but he intended to find out.

Shortly after Asmodeus was seated, the pre-flight announcement began. He tuned out, preferring to go over his plan one more time. While he didn’t expect to encounter any difficulties, he wanted to ensure everything went smoothly. Four hours into the sixteen-hour flight, when they were over the Pacific Ocean, he would execute his plan. The empty plane would plunge into the ocean depths, never to be seen again. Those who were converted would be given new identities, and rehoused, believing they were part of a witness protection program relating to some heinous crime they had supposedly seen.

The sudden jolt of the plane moving brought Asmodeus back from his reverie. He looked out the window to his left. They were still on the ground, moving backwards, away from the jet bridge he had walked along to board the plane. When they were clear of the terminal, and the pushback tug was disconnected, the plane slowly taxied onto the runway. There it sat, waiting for clearance to take-off.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I ask that you please direct your attention to the closest monitor for our safety demonstration. Your complete attention while the demonstration is played is appreciated. You’ll also find a safety briefing card in the seat pocket in front of you.”

Asmodeus watched the little screen in front of him. How futile, he thought, though the demonstration did give him an idea of a new method by which he might enslave everyone on board relatively quickly.

The plane began to move again, this time gaining speed with each passing metre. Asmodeus could feel the tension and fear in the air. He smiled. Fear was like a tonic to him. The instant the wheels left the ground, the fear peaked. Asmodeus was almost drunk from it. His smile grew wider. He let himself relax and enjoyed the moment.

When the seat belt light went out, there was a flurry of activity, from passengers and crew alike. Asmodeus watched those around him — putting on headphones, reading books, stretching their legs, or pressing something above them. He looked up. There were some small buttons, one of which vaguely resembled a person. He pressed the button and waited.

Flight attendants whizzed past him, presumably serving those people who had pushed the button before him.

“It’s always busy straight after take-off,” the elderly woman next to him said. “You might be waiting a while.”

As it turned out, she was wrong. Within five minutes a young man, with a smile that appeared to be fixed in place, bounded up the aisle and stopped in front of Asmodeus.

The exuberance of youth, Asmodeus thought, how I wish I could tap into it.

“How can I help you, sir?” the young man asked.

Asmodeus looked him in the eye, and said in a low voice, “You will tell me how many people are on board this flight.”

The flight attendant’s eyes glazed over. He whispered a number to Asmodeus before asking, “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

“That is all,” Asmodeus said dismissively, waving his hand to shoo the young man away.

He smiled as the flight attendant retreated. There were four hundred and thirty people on board, including the flight crew. Some of those would be too young, or too old, for his purposes. Those he would give to the demons beneath him, to do with as they pleased. It also meant there would be less questions asked, if he shared his bounty. Even with what remained it would take him a year to get through them, provided they were all relatively easy to convert. Based on the last dozen mortals Asmodeus had converted, that wasn’t going to be a problem.

“Why didn’t I think of this before?” Asmodeus whispered, a sly smile on his face.

“What’s that, dear?” the old lady next to him asked. “You’ll need to speak up. I’m a little hard of hearing.”

Asmodeus laughed. “I said, why didn’t I think of this before.”

The lady looked quite taken aback. “You’ve never flown before?”

“No. I can see why …” Asmodeus paused while he thought of something appropriate to say. Something like meat-sacks, mortals or humans would sound strange. “… you choose to travel this way.”

“Good afternoon passengers. This is your Captain speaking …”

Asmodeus ignored what the Captain was saying. It would make no difference to the outcome of the flight. He was already calculating how many cells would be required to house the hundreds of people on the flight. He also had to take into consideration catering for their bodily needs — mortals still needed to eat and drink, s**t and sleep. Admittedly a sleep-deprived mortal was much easier to convert, yet too deprived and they died.

The monitor in front of Asmodeus displayed a map. It showed their departure point, destination and a slowly moving plane, allowing anyone who was interested to track the progress of their flight. The plane looked like it had barely moved, judging by what he could see on the screen, yet Asmodeus knew they had probably travelled a few hundred kilometres already. At that moment, however, four hours seemed like a long time. Patience, he thought to himself. Rahab is always telling me to be patient. This time the old demon’s right.

“Excuse me dear, I need to go to the restroom,” the old lady sitting next to Asmodeus said. She unbuckled her seat belt and stood up, waiting for Asmodeus to stand. His knees almost touched the seat in front of him. There wasn’t enough room for her to squeeze past him.

Asmodeus smiled as he stood and stepped into the aisle. The thought of what some of the lesser demons would do to this kindly old lady pleased him. She smiled and thanked him as she passed. He imagined that if she knew why he was smiling she would piss herself on the spot. He laughed softly and sat down.

After returning from her fourth trip to the restroom, Asmodeus whispered in her ear, telling her that she didn’t need to go again. Her eyes lost the twinkle that had been in them moments before.

“Quite right, dear,” the old lady replied in a monotone voice. “I don’t think I shall ever go again.”

Asmodeus glanced at the screen in front of him for the umpteenth time. The plane was well and truly over the Pacific Ocean. He smiled. It was time.

All the monitors began to flicker. Those passengers who were watching the small screens mumbled silent curses for the seemingly poor reception of whatever it was they had been watching. When the flickering stopped, the screens went blank and their reflections stared back at them. At the same time, static momentarily drowned out the radio broadcasts.

A low, menacing voice, full of power boomed through the public-address system. Passengers who had been dozing were woken by the noise — a sound that implied death had come.

A cold chill spread throughout the plane.

“Noane des ila sheharl,” the voice said — Take us to hell.

Only one passenger remained on board Flight LT191. He was profoundly deaf and could not hear the words Asmodeus had said. He could not hear, nor obey, the command to leave. He was doomed, just like the others, though he would not have to endure days, weeks or months of torture. In less than five minutes he would be dead and on his way to see Saint Peter.