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Okay, picture it. December. The year

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2023 is coming to a close.

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You are hosting the perfect holiday

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party when the power goes out.

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Then, there's a scream from upstairs

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and, well, you've seen this before.

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You are about to have a

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do you keep the drinks flowing

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when your merry feast has turned

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martini, in the library, with a twist,

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perhaps a sunset Paloma, made with Don

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dot com. You've got a mystery to

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solve. Let Drizzly take care of the

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rest. Must be 21+,

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not available in all locations. Narrated

1:18

by Kayla Tempshev Jackie

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put her hand over Emma's tablet, blocking

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the screen. Don't do

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a count today. Jackie

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had that perfect smile on her face.

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Any passenger watching would think flight

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attendants only ever discussed pleasant things.

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But there was a tightness around her eyes. The

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gate agent did a count and were busy. Don't

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worry about it. The plane

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lurched under Emma's feet as the jet bridge

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shifted against it. The ground momentarily

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visible in the gap between tunnel

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and plane. It was

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a violation of the rules not to have multiple

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counts of the passengers on a flight. But...

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Jackie did have a point. It

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would have been difficult for anyone to sneak

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unseen onto the jet bridge from the ground,

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or flee the plane and vanish onto

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the crowded apron. Emma

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turned off the screen on her tablet and sat it on

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the counter. Jackie seemed

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relieved, greeting passengers again,

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but still with that odd, angled

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tension in her neck. It

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was Emma's third time flying with Jackie, and

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Jackie was lovely. But

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as Emma looked out over the passengers settling

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into their seats, it

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seemed impossible not to silently count

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them. Of course, it

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was like trying to spot swimmers among waves.

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The passengers were in constant motion,

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stuffing carry-on luggage into the

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overhead bins, ducking down to

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dig into their bags. Emma

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couldn't get a reliable count. And

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then Jackie was back from checking in

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with Marjorie, the pilot. Emma

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had to help secure the cabin for taxing. As

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the plane climbed over the city and

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settled into a cloud layer, Emma felt

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an unusual unease. A

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few moments ago, the ground had been hot

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and black and far away. Now

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everything outside was hazy and

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blank and very close. When

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it came time for the drink service,

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the third flight attendant, Craig, kept his

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back to the passenger cabin as he

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prepared the cart, stocking it with cups

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and cola. His

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movements were unfocused and shaky.

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If Emma's mother were here, in her

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blue flight attendant heels, she'd

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have been contemptuous of a cabin

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crew showing their nerves. Of

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course, she'd never been on her own up

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here in the sky. Her husband

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had always been in the cockpit. Never

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fall for pilots' lines, Emma's

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mother had warned, giggling, with

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her husband's arms. around her

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waist, as if they

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hadn't found perfection between themselves, traveling

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the world together, sometimes

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taking Emma along in her own

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tiny blue shoes. Always

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moving, always passing something

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by. Home

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is wherever you find yourself, her

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mother said. Today

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in the cockpit, the pilot was Marjorie. Marjorie

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hadn't used the line on Emma. She'd

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simply leaned close in the crew lounge,

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trading conversation while tracing condensation

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on the end of her

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glass, slowly coating her

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finger in cold water. She

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wore no wedding ring, so Emma

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had assumed no ring existed. The

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truth was, the ring

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sometimes vanished, but

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it was never going to disappear completely. During

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the drink service, the passengers seemed

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entirely normal, asking for

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juice or sparkling water, munching

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on dry little cookies from filmy

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packages. They

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had carry-ons, books, headphones,

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neck pillows, the same

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as always. And yet, Jackie

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was clutching the handle of the cart so

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hard her fingers turned white. It

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didn't help that the drink service created its

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own tension, worsening the quiet

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claustrophobia to be found up here

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in the wide open sky. A

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seat on the aisle, or near the door of a

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plane, was like a seat anywhere, unremarkable.

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But a passenger in a window seat would

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need to wait on two others to move

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out of their way before even reaching the

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aisle. And the drink

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cart made it worse, filling the

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aisle, sealing off entire portions of

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the cabin as it moved. Today,

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Emma felt like she was constantly on the

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run. side of it, and

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it was impossible not to count people

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as they passed by. At

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the end of the drink service, the problem

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became clear. The

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flight was supposed to have 126 passengers. There

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were 127. There

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was a procedure for that. Unauthorized

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passenger. It involved

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returning to the airport and being met

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by a crowd of police and federal

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agents. The real

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question, of course, was why

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Jackie wasn't doing exactly that. Emma's

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mother would surely have sussed out the extra

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person, zip-tied their hands, and had them ready

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to transfer to security on landing. So,

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with that perfect flight attendant smile.

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There was only one explanation, of course.

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Jackie, or possibly one

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of the other cabin crew, had snuck

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an extra person into the cabin. Emma

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could make a fuss, turn the

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plane around, piss off the passengers,

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not to mention getting somebody fired,

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or she could look the other way

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while some harmless person sat in an

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otherwise unfilled seat and drank a free

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half can of cola. There

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was no real choice. Emma

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had caused enough trouble switching crews to

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avoid margery. Not

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that it had worked. Sometimes

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it felt like Emma's life was careening towards

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the ground, ready to end

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and fire and disaster. She'd

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tried college. She'd tried

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boys. She knew happiness

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existed. She'd seen it

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once. Before her

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father's accident. Before

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the stepfather, as Emma thought of

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him. Lazy and

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loud. Emma's mother

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would have hated it. to have the stepfather as

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a passenger. But he

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was her father's replacement nonetheless. As

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if her father hadn't fallen out of the

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sky one day but had just

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called in sick. And

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some faceless company had shifted the

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stepfather into his place. Her

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stepfather had never even been on a plane.

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And his mother hadn't been on the one that crashed.

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Emma's father was deadheading, traveling

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as a passenger on his way to another

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job. Emma had

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always wondered whether her father would be alive

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if he'd been in the cockpit that day. It

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was a relief to tuck the drink cart away,

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leaving the aisle open again. But

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Emma was starting to feel her shoe sink

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into the carpet with a wet squelch.

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She turned to see a trail of liquid

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leading from the galley into the passenger cabin.

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Oh no, Emma said.

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Jackie, I think the cart was leaking. She

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hoped it was melted ice and not sticky

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cola. Oh yeah, this

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cart does that sometimes. Don't worry

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about it, Jackie said. Emma

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went on. I can see

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wet footprints. One of us

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must have tracked it back here. There's

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probably a puddle in the cabin. She

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got two steps farther along the trail

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of wet carpet before Jackie's hand closed

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around her wrist. Jackie

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spoke with an insistent calm and

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Emma watched with a sickened surprise as

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cracks ran through her lipstick. We

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don't talk about it. Not

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in sight. Emma

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was confused. We

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don't talk about a leaking cart. Jackie

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continued her hard stare. Just

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look the other way. Remember

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that, Emma. If you

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see it, just look the other

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way." Emma

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lowered her voice to a whisper. Jackie,

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I really don't care if you've

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brought on an extra passenger. It's

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not a passenger, Jackie hissed under her

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breath. Emma

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did not get air sick. She'd

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grown up in the sky, but now

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her stomach lurched and her knees knocked together

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like they'd hit a pocket of rough air.

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She watched Jackie start deterbitly cleaning

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counters which were already clean. Then

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what is it? Emma

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asked faintly. If

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I see what? Marjorie's

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voice erupted from the loudspeaker. Emma

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imagined she could see the words swirling around

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the cabin like smoke. That

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smooth voice made squeaky. Folks,

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we're beginning our final descent to the airport.

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Should have you on the ground in about

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20 minutes. Flight attendants,

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please prepare the cabin for landing. Before

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Jackie could say anything, Emma grabbed a

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trash bag and headed down the aisle,

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following the wet footprints. If

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anyone else had noticed them, they didn't seem to

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care. Emma stopped

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at the first row for used tissues fished

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out of a seat pocket, the

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next for an empty cola can. The

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footprints continued, growing less

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distinct as they moved down the aisle.

11:27

Messier. Emma was

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heading towards the source of the spill. Trey

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table up, please, Emma said,

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flashing her flight attendant smile.

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She'd bought herself a new shade of pink lipstick. Marjorie

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liked red. She heard

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and felt another wet spot under her

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shoes. By this point,

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Emma had to look down to make sure there

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wasn't standing water in the aisle. It

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felt harder to move her feet, almost

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like she was waiting instead of

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walking. She glanced out

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the window as the plane banked. They

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were below the clouds now. She

12:05

could see the ground. The

12:07

people in the city lived tightly packed

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into tall buildings and, in

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a few minutes, this plane would be

12:14

eye level with their living rooms. The

12:18

sun glinted off the surface of the ocean,

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powerful enough even from this height to make

12:23

Emma blink. Any

12:25

trash you'd like me to take? Emma asked

12:27

the next row. She got a stack

12:30

of used cups. Across

12:32

the aisle, she was handed used up napkins.

12:35

Emma dropped one and it immediately soaked up

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water. When she picked

12:39

it up, it was

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ice cold. An

12:44

odor rose from it. Something

12:46

very out of place in the sky.

12:49

Emma sniffed at her hands and

12:52

their transparent plastic gloves. Salt

12:55

water. Emma

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stopped walking. She was

12:59

now standing on a patch of thoroughly

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soaked carpet. There

13:03

were no more wet footprints beyond it. This

13:06

was the source of the spill. Her

13:09

feet felt chilled up to the ankle.

13:13

The whole area reeked of the

13:15

ocean. Look

13:18

the other way, Jackie had said. But

13:21

this was Emma's plane. These

13:23

passengers, 126 of them at least, were in

13:25

her care. Emma

13:29

had her own grown up blue shoes now. She

13:32

turned around. On

13:34

her left, the seats were filled by three

13:37

women who looked enough alike to be family

13:39

members. They were ignoring Emma.

13:42

On the right side of the aisle, there were

13:44

three empty seats. I... Someone

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had been there a moment ago. A

13:50

dark haired man. Emma

13:52

hadn't gotten a good look at him before. That

13:56

was the side Jackie had worked during the

13:58

drink service. Marjorie's

14:00

voice rang out again. Flight

14:05

attendants, please take your seats for landing. Oh,

14:10

where's the man who is here? Emma

14:13

asked the women across the aisle. They

14:15

turned to look, seeming confused. Emma

14:19

looked down the aisle. The

14:21

bathrooms at the back both had

14:23

the green, unoccupied tab showing. The

14:26

bathrooms in the front were too far away to see.

14:29

Emma took a hesitant step toward the

14:31

front, following the footsteps

14:33

again. She could

14:36

see Jackie and Craig strapping themselves into

14:38

the jump seats by the front exit. The

14:41

aisle seemed to stretch on forever. Somewhere,

14:45

a man said, I don't like this

14:47

place. Emma looked

14:49

carefully from side to side as she

14:51

walked, but she couldn't find the speaker.

14:55

What part? Emma asked, addressing

14:57

her passengers in what was hopefully

14:59

a cheerful tone. The

15:01

landing? No, said

15:04

the voice. Emma could

15:06

feel someone lean in close, as

15:09

if they were behind her in the aisle, crowding

15:11

into her personal space. The

15:15

falling. Emma

15:18

dropped her trash bag and sprinted down

15:20

the aisle. She doubted her mother

15:22

had ever done that. Fuck,

15:24

she said, as she strapped herself in next

15:27

to Jackie. You could have

15:29

just told me the plane was haunted. Craig

15:31

was pale as the paneling, but he tried

15:34

to smile. He'll be gone

15:36

by the time we land. His flight. Jackie

15:38

looks livid. She

15:41

waved her hand to hush Craig, but he kept

15:43

talking. It never made

15:45

it to the airport, went down over the water

15:47

during a snowstorm. But it's okay.

15:49

It just makes things a little bumpy.

15:52

We think, we think the ocean

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wants him back. The

15:57

plane jolted as if they'd run over something in the

15:59

sky. There were explanations

16:01

from several of the passengers. Emma

16:04

was too far away to see which ones. Somewhere

16:08

in the cabin, a call light went on. The

16:12

plane banked left, more sharply than

16:14

Emma was expecting. Her

16:16

blue shoes slid on the carpet. Marjorie

16:19

will get us down, Craig said

16:21

encouragingly, though he was

16:23

holding tight to his harness. Emma

16:27

was finally able to voice the question, what

16:30

flight? She imagined

16:33

her own lipstick might be cracking. What

16:36

flight is he from? Flight

16:39

318, Craig said, went

16:42

down in 2010. Realization

16:50

came over her. As

16:53

the plane leveled out, Emma unbuckled her seatbelt.

16:57

When Emma's father had died, she'd

16:59

wished she'd been on the plane with him. In

17:02

later years, she'd felt the

17:04

shame of wishing her mother had been. He

17:07

wasn't the saint, you remember, her

17:10

mother said one horrible night when Emma

17:12

had been shouting at the stepfather. He

17:15

had a girl in every port. Believe

17:17

me, I know, we worked

17:20

together. Emma

17:23

walked down the aisle, back into the

17:25

water, past the passengers

17:27

with their hands gripping the armrest, past

17:30

the windows with their shades drawn. Frightened

17:33

passengers always did that, her mother had

17:35

said. They didn't want to

17:38

see the ground coming up too fast.

17:42

The call light was on near the back, the row

17:44

with the spill. As

17:46

Emma walked into it, her feet began to

17:48

go numb with cold. She

17:51

sat down next to the thing that

17:53

was not a passenger and buckled her

17:55

seatbelt. I don't

17:57

like this part, the man said. He

18:01

had the dark hair Emma knew, but

18:04

it was wet now, plastered to

18:06

his head. He

18:08

seemed much smaller than she remembered. Emma

18:11

couldn't tell if he recognized her all

18:14

these years later. The

18:17

plane took another jolt and the man

18:19

clutched at the seat in front of him, getting it

18:21

wet. He'd just

18:23

want to go home. Emma

18:26

had always believed her father's last thoughts had been

18:28

of her and her mother. She'd

18:30

imagined him sad, surprised.

18:35

Never like this. Never

18:37

scared. It's

18:40

okay, Emma said.

18:43

Salt water sloshed on her shoes and trailed

18:45

down her cheeks. We

18:49

can be here. Just a little

18:51

longer.