Flight 219
“I just want to go home.” The little boy sitting beside Meredith started to cry. “I want to go home.”
His mother rubbed his back and tried to shush him. Meredith understood her reaction. All the passengers were doing everything in their power to avoid catching the gunman’s attention. Keep themselves as inconspicuous as possible.
“We can’t go home yet,” the boy’s mom told him.
Meredith leaned over to him. “Hey, buddy, what’s your name?”
“West.” His voice was a tiny squeak.
“West?” She gave him a smile. “That’s a great name. Do you like animals?”
He nodded, his eyes wide.
“Do you have any pets back home?” Meredith asked.
He gave another slight nod, and Meredith smiled. “What do you have? A dog?”
“A guinea pig,” he answered proudly.
“A guinea pig?” Meredith repeated, gl
