Twelve minutes. It had been twelve minutes, according to her watch, since the arm had fallen on the floor, after which she’d collapsed into the nearest chair and just sat—her head spinning, her heart pounding. Okay, she thought at last, here’s your options: One. You are still sleeping and are experiencing a nightmare. Two. You’ve gone completely insane. Or, three ...
It was really happening.
And if that were the case, there weren’t many scenarios that could explain it, other than that terrorists had slaughtered everyone on board and piled their bodies in first class—a possibility she found dubious at best.
The only thing to do was to accept the facts so far and make her way toward the cockpit—where she had at least some chance at finding answers. And so she moved forward slowly, not wan
