“So then do it,” I said. “Ruin my life, but leave her out of it. She doesn't deserve this, man. If anybody deserves this, it's me, and we both know it. I fucked you over. Not her."
Fred nodded, considering it. “So what do you propose, pretty boy?”
"A trade, plain and simple. Let her go, and you can have me."
“No, Drew!” Jess wailed through the choke hold Stevens had her in. “Don’t! He’ll kill you.”
“Shut up, bitch!” Stevens snarled, yanking her around like she was a ragdoll. “Nobody asked you!”
“Come on, Fred,” I said, keeping my voice even, despite the fact that I wanted to kill him. Literally kill him. “Her for me. Even trade.”
I could see the moment when he made the decision, and I felt a surge of triumph I had to hide as best I could. This wasn't over yet, and if I allowed myself to start thinking that it was, somebody was going to get hurt. Maybe even killed.
“Fine,” Stevens said. “You’re right. Why would I want to use her when I’ve got you right here? I’ll let her go, but not until you’re close enough for me to get to. Deal?”
"Deal. Jess? Don't worry, baby, okay? It's going to be okay. I promise you. It will be."
“Don’t listen to him, baby ,” Stevens spat contemptuously as the passengers around him whimpered and murmured. “Because I can promise you it won’t be.”
I could see that she believed him, and as much as it hurt me, it was just as well. I couldn’t have Stevens suspecting that there was anything happening outside of his plan or else he’d kill Jess. I knew that, the same way I had known something was wrong before I had figured out what it was. I got close enough to the two of them that I could smell Jess’s perfume, close enough that I could have kissed her, and then looked at Stevens.
“Now or never, right? Let her go, man. You’ve got the one you really want to hurt, ready and waiting.”
Stevens grinned a dead-looking grin and pushed Jess away from him so hard that she went sprawling into the lap of one of the passengers across the aisle. I heard several people gasp and knew they would check to make sure that she was all right. All of my attention needed to stay focused on the task at hand. Stevens reached for me with his pencil brandished, and that was when I threw my hail-mary punch.
Chapter 22: Jess
"No! No, Drew! Please, somebody, help him!"
Everything was happening very quickly now. I felt like I had been thrown into a movie, like I was watching what was supposed to be my real life with horror. Because there was nothing I could do about it. It had been terrible to be Fred Stevens's hostage, but it was much, much worse to watch him struggling with Drew. If I hadn't been one hundred percent sure of my love for him before, I was now. Now that I was watching him struggling to keep himself safe, I knew that I would not survive if something happened to him. That was something I couldn't go through again. It was something I refused to go through again.
I was still struggling to get up from the heap Fred had tossed me into, but even wedged between seats, I had a good view of the passenger rushing down the aisle to help Drew.
Stevens had taken a seriously hard punch, one I had actually heard, but it didn't appear to be slowing him down any. Stevens was probably so drunk, he couldn’t feel anything. He lunged at Drew, again and again, snarling and spitting and throwing his arm wildly. The pencil slashed through the air, and although there was little precision to his drunken movements, it would only take one hit to do some serious damage.
Drew ducked and swayed, keeping out of the way, but he showed no signs of getting away from his attacker. Of course, he didn't. He wasn't the kind of man who ran away from a fight, especially not when it was a fight he felt responsible for creating. Even when the other passenger reached Drew's side, Stevens fought like an angry bear. The two men showed no signs of subduing their target. Stevens continued to rant and rave, terrorizing all of the people around him.
“Even now!” Stevens shrieked. “Even now you can’t do what you’re supposed to! You made a deal, pretty boy! You made a fucking deal!”
“You’ll have to forgive me for not thinking that’s a good idea, Stevens. Not when you’re acting like this.”
"I don't have to forgive shit! You've robbed me, Larson. You've robbed me again and again, and now I see that you're still doing it!"
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” the stranger interjected. “But I know you need to stop. You’re drunk, man.”
“You don’t know a goddamned thing,” Stevens snarled, turning on the good samaritan and brandishing his pencil. “You don’t have a clue what you’re getting involved in.”
"You're right,” the man said. “I don't. But it doesn't take a genius to see that you're wasted. Just put the pencil down, okay? Put the pencil down before you actually hurt somebody and get yourself into some real trouble."
“Trouble? You think I care about trouble?”
“Sure, man, everyone does.”
“No! Wrong! Not everyone. People who have already lost everything don’t give a shit about getting into trouble. I don’t have anything left to live for, not since this son of a bitch turned me in for drinking on the job. The only thing that’s kept me going these past months has been the idea of hurting him. I suggest you get the fuck out of my way!”
I screamed again as Stevens lunged forward, stabbing the air with his makeshift weapon. At the same time, both Drew and the helpful passenger moved forward, each of them taking hold of one of Stevens's arms. I thought for a moment that it would be over then, but Fred's rage seemed to have given him extra strength. Even as Drew and his accomplice tried to drag him forward, he broke loose again and began to run for the door that led to the outside of the plane. Seeing as we were thousands of miles up in the air, this caused a whole new wave of alarm amongst the passengers, and they began to babble and scream themselves.
“He’ll open the door!” One particularly loud woman wailed. “He’s going to kill us all! Everyone duck your heads, it’s the end!”