To be of the rich and fashionable social set the members of which travel widely for pleasure
Jack was late for this flight again. This would be a moment of frustration and turmoil for most. For jack this was not unusual, at this point in his years of traveling it almost felt familiar. So Jack went up to the counter and spoke to the attendant to get on the next flight. It was less than an hour later than his previous departure. He flew from metropolis to metropolis and international concourse to world capitals and villages. For weeks on end, Jack traveled alone and in peace.
This instance was no different than the last. He had been to Hawaii before and he enjoyed spending his time in LAX people watching. It was amusing people watching to say the least. He sat and wondered about everyone's reason for flying that day. Those wearing oversized sunglasses inside going to movie sets, or at least wanting people to think they were. Those in suits had transcontinental meetings. The rest looked like him wearing light travel clothes traveling for leisure and perhaps with no destination in mind. Some people appeared frantic while others knew how travel worked and took hold of the reigns of LAX and held on tight. It was going to be a bumpy ride.
As Jack sat and waited for them to call this section to board he noticed a young man running down the terminal in quite a hurry. He watched as he was forced to stop by running into gate B17, Jack's gate. He then realized that the young man was dressed as a pilot and didn't look well. He looked flushed and sickly. He was barely 25 years old and greeted by a hesitant, "Hello, how ya feeling?" by the airline staff.
Jack put little thought toward this once he was seated. He knew that pilots flew when they were sick, that's why there are co-pilots, right? He stowed his things and waited. The flight attendants explained the proper safety procedures and precautions. Jack had heard this thousands of times. Then the pilot came over the intercom, probably not the best decision in his condition. He sounded under the weather, but not alarmingly so, just slight coughing as he closed his greeting. And they took off for their journey.
Not long into the flight he looked out the window and saw the vibrant blue of the Pacific Ocean. It was his favorite ocean to travel in or over. He knew all of the creatures that lived in it, he envisioned them going about their lives in the blue in peace. This is how he found serenity on long boring flights. At that moment, as he found his safe space, Jack heard an odd growling erupting from the cockpit. Then screams.
A flight attendant then burst from the front of the cabin bleeding from the neck. Her screaming stopped as she collapsed on the floor. No one moved. No one spoke a word for what seemed a ridiculous amount of time. Then they came for us. All of the passengers soon became a bottle of food for whatever it was that erupted from the cockpit. Jack had never seen anything like it. For the first and only time in his life he saw men and women sacrifice their consciousness for flesh.
All of this transpired faster than Jack could process; the plane started to nose dive. As it plummeted to its fate all of the occupants were thrown to the front of the plane turning a peaceful flight from LA to Hawaii into a soon to be sinking tube of flesh eating monsters and their soon to be decaying food source.
Jack and the other passengers never arrived at the tropical destination. No one ever dared to recover the remainder of the flight. There was no telling what they would've found.