CODY CROPP - 32,300 FEET FROM SAFETY

Cody Cropp is a now graduated student from Fort Atkinson Highschool. He has always taken an interest in reading and writing, but currently is pursuing a career in fabrication and automotive technology. 

32,300 Feet From Safety
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​I was awakened abruptly to the sound of the loudspeaker coming on, yet again, “Calling boarding group B, if you are group B please make your way to the gate desk at this time. Thank you.” I glanced down at the white paper in my hand, Seat 42B Boarding Group B. I grabbed my nearly empty carry on, and got up to board the plane. I wondered how long I was out for, luckily no one who knew I was a Federal Marshall had seen or it would be my job on the line. I had been watching the passengers and passerby’s before I must’ve dozed off, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. I moved behind a few other people in line at the gate, but the line was moving fast. When it was my turn, I approached the woman with my boarding pass, and after a quick glance at it to confirm I was at the right location, she motioned me towards the hallway leading to the plane.
I could already hear a crying baby in the crowd boarding ahead of me. Great. Can’t be worse than last time, I wanted to arrest that little brat for disturbing my peace. At least this time I had my headphones to drown out the upset kid.
After walking through what seemed to be the longest plane I’ve ever been on, I found my seat in between an older woman, and another man looking to be about my age.
The old woman gave me a polite smile as I stuffed my duffel bag into the overhead storage, and shuffled into my spot between the two. The man had yet to glance up from his tablet, and had his eyes glued to the game on the screen. When I sat down, I felt the butt of the pistol in the back of my waistband scratch my back, and I winced a little bit.
 “Need an Advil dear?” the old woman asked me.
 “No thank you, just a little sore from work.” I lied, as most of my work is sitting in these chairs all day.
“Well don’t be afraid to ask hon, I’ve got some snacks too!” she exclaimed, while opening her purse to reveal a stock pile of granola bars and old lady hard candy.
“Well thank you, I’ll keep that in mind. My names Dave by the way.” I said as I smiled and nodded. You don’t come across fellow passengers this nice very often, and this flight was off to a much better start than the last. We are leaving from O’Hare, and headed to Seattle I believe, but the destination never really matters to me, as I’ll be on a plane right back the next day anyways. I usually just order some room service to the hotel room I get for free, and go to town on the mini fridges contents (it’s usually more fun if they’re alcoholic).
“My names Anne deary, it’s nice to meet you.”
I felt like just putting in my earbuds and going to sleep, but I know I should at least try to do my job the best I can. Before we take off, I figured it would probably be best to use the bathroom now, so I shuffled back out past tablet man, and began towards the back of the plane. I eyed up all the passengers, trying to get a feel for who’s where somewhat, in case something did actually happen. Nothing out of the ordinary, of course, just a bunch of families and ordinary looking people.
I reached the end of the plane, and was surprised to find 3 whole separate bathrooms. This plane really must be big. I chose the one on the right, but the door didn’t budge. There was no indicator for it being occupied, and no one said anything upon my knocking, but I’m sure someone’s in there too shy to speak up. I tried the door to the left of it, and it opened normally. I went to the bathroom, and made my way back to my seat.
The pilot had taxi’d us out to the runway, and I could hear the turbines coming to life in preparation for takeoff. I always liked this part the most, and landing, as it’s the only exciting part of the flight. We sped up rapidly down the tarmac, and I could see the buildings fade away as we pulled higher and higher into the air, and took a steep left turn upwards. I relaxed once we reached a steady altitude above the clouds, and didn’t care to watch out the window anymore.       
It must be nice for all the passengers on here, actually having a destination and not just working while everyone’s finishing or starting their vacation/trip. Traveling has slowly lost its novelty to me though, since I left Chicago PD’s Gang Enforcement for this job. One is certainly much less interesting than the other, but I can’t help but feel a sense of importance being the only one on this plane with a weapon, and being responsible for protecting these passengers when they don’t even know it. I had my badge of course in my wallet if needed, but otherwise I am to just dress as normal, and bring a carry on stuffed full of random junk to look legitimate. It’s become more of a spare garbage can than it has actually carried my belongings.
The only people aware of my presence were pilots, and the head of the flight attendants. All others were completely oblivious to my presence, and that’s the way it should be. I should go “entirely unnoticed, except in the event of an emergency where it is required to establish identity”. I could just hear my boss’s voice droning that over and over again. It is a very important aspect of the job, but I got it the first time old man.
Just then the captain came over the speaker, “Attention passengers, this is your captain speaking, welcome to Delta Flight 207 from Chicago O’Hare, en route to Seattle. We have reached our cruising altitude of 32,300 feet, and are looking at smooth skies ahead of us most likely. Arrival time has not changed. At this time you are free to move about the cabin, thank you and have a great flight.”
It’s like deja vu, hearing the same lines from different pilots every other day, it’s starting to drive me nuts. Well now for the most boring part of the flight. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the headrest, but it was only seconds before tablet guy disturbed me from my rest.
“Noooo! Noooo!” He was yelling as he furiously tapped on his screen. I glanced over and could see his game was now covered up by a massive buffering icon, that he was attempting to get rid of by furiously beating his screen. The game was still playing in the background, and I could only assume that he was losing whatever game he was playing because of the buffering. I picked up my phone, and saw the no service icon. Not surprised, I usually don’t get any up this high. I went to WiFi in settings, knowing Delta has free WiFi for passengers. I reloaded it multiple times, but nothing came up. I could hear several call buttons going off, and I picked up on a bit of a conversation a few rows ahead of me regarding the WiFi shutting off.
Well that’s just great, but not the end of the world I suppose. Can’t get much more boring than this though. A few minutes passed, and I felt like dozing off, but every time I came close, Anne would say some random story about her grandkids back in Seattle and her husband in Chicago. I listened politely, but honestly it was going in one ear and right out the other. Nothing against her, it’s just that she is somehow boring me more than just sitting there. She was in the middle of telling me her cats names, when the plane went pitch black. I could hear gasps and several women and children scream (and a few men), but people were quick to pull out phone flashlights and anything that gave off some illumination. The lights came back on, but they were much dimmer than before. Probably running off of the backup generator for whatever reason, it puts out less current.
Flight attendants were combing the aisles, assuring passengers it was just a malfunction, and that it will not happen again. Either way, I wanted to hear it from the pilots myself. I got up, and walked toward the front of the plane this time, and walked all the way through first class and the attendants room to the cockpit. The head attendant was in the room, and she looked at me confused. I whipped out my wallet, and let the badge open up revealing itself.
“Ahh so you’re the Marshall. I was trying to guess who it was, they never tell us which passenger it is.” She said, intrigued.
“Just better for everyone’s safety ma’am. Could I have a word with the pilots?”
“Sure, anything.” She said and gave me a nice smile. She walked up to the intercom outside of the cockpit, and asked them to open it to allow me in. They obliged of course, and I walked in and shook hands with both of the pilots after showing them my badge as well.
“Just a malfunction out there? What went wrong?” The pilots looked at each other and it seemed as though they were debating on filling me in on the real situation. Finally, the pilot on the left spoke up, “The power supply to the cabins been…disconnected. We’ve got no power out there apart from the little backup generator.”
            I had figured that already, not a big deal then.
“But that’s not it. We’ve lost several other capabilities as well. Our GPS unit isn’t picking up a signal anymore, and we can’t reach any flight towers or anyone for that matter. We’re flying blind essentially.” He said, while looking at me, scared.
“Jesus, what now then? Do you know if we’re on course? Or where we are?”
The other pilot chimed in, stating “Our position hasn’t been recorded since 5:27, about 8 minutes ago. We were on course then, but there’s no way to tell now. We can’t even reach anyone to ask them to direct us. They can see where we are, but we can’t, and they can’t tell us.” I really didn’t know what to say to that, and I stared at them dumbfounded for a few seconds before simply saying, “So what now?”
“We’re trying to figure out what caused it, but the only error codes we are getting are disconnects, and we checked both ends. They are plugged in and should be getting powered, but they aren’t on. It doesn’t make sense. We’re running as many diagnostic tests as we can, but we’re running out of ideas.” he mentioned.
“Well keep at it. And keep me updated on anything else. You guys know where to find me.” I turned and walked out, and I had a bad feeling in my gut. Was this the exciting moment I had been waiting for? Or was this the beginning of what ends up as a fiery crash that I don’t survive. The pilots would be responsible for an emergency landing, and without a proper runway with a plane this big I don’t think the odds are in our favor. And good luck to them attempting to find one.
I made it back to my seat, and to my surprise, Anne had pulled out a little phone that she was trying to get to work, but judging by the expression on her face, it wasn’t.
“Do you think you could take a look at this Dave, dear. I can’t seem to get a call through to my husband.” She asked, disappointedly. I took the phone out of her hand, and looked at the tiny screen at the top. In the top left, I could see a blinking “no service” light at the top.
“I don’t think you’ll get service up here Anne, and the WiFis off too.” I told her.
“Pfft this phone? WiFi? I’ve had this phone since before they even made them to connect to WiFi. It’s satellite dear, I’ve used it on this very trip many times, I don’t know why it’s not working now.”
“Had you used it on the flight already? Did it work before?” I wondered.
“I hadn’t tried it, but I did get a text from my grandson about 10 minutes ago, wouldn’t that mean I had service?”
She had a point, that is weird it happens to not work now. It’s making me start to suspect some foul play. I got up and walked quickly up to the cockpit, and talked through the intercom myself this time. They let me in once again.
“What is your communication based off of? Is it radio? And why did you guys turn off the wifi?” I asked the pilots.
“I believe so, all I know is you talk into it and they talk back. At least they usually do. And WiFi? It’s been on the entire flight.” With that, he looked at the ground, clearly nervous about the situation. The other pilot didn’t know anymore than he did, but they had given me enough information. It’s possible that Anne’s cellphone going out and the planes communications going out could be from the same source. A simple $80 jammer, and you’ve got anything trying to receive that signal nearby pretty much useless. Even worse, they are entirely legal to purchase, simply illegal to use. However, most people who buy them, probably intend on using them. Back in Chicago, a group of BDK gangsters had gotten pulled over with one, and we were baffled at first, but one of them ratted on what it was, and now our department is fully aware of their capabilities.
But a signal jammer blocking the signal would have to be on the plane. It would never reach from far away, and all bags are checked before being loaded, so I don’t see how it could be on the plane. But there’s no other explanation for both signals going out simultaneously, around the same time as the lights and GPS unit.
I wasn’t concerned about the cargo bay, as anyone hiding in there would probably be suffocated or froze to death by now, the air isn’t regulated like it is in the cabin. It couldn’t be in anyone’s luggage, something of that design would surely raise some eyebrows at the TSA stops.     
I needed to make a decision fast however, on keeping this investigation quiet and slow, or raising attention to it but getting things done. I don’t know how much time we have before the pilots get us entirely lost, so I decided the alleged radar jammer needs to be found immediately. I walked down the entire aisle, staring people down more carefully this time. I am good at reading people, but it’s hard when everyone on this plane looks nervous. It’s impossible to even get a start based on just looks, and I can’t just go around accusing everyone.
I walked up and down the plane twice, and got several odd looks in doing so, but I need to do my job. I looked in every apparent spot in the attendants room, as well as any storage closets or nooks I saw on the way towards the back. It would still amaze me that someone even got one on the plane in the first place. I arrived at the back of the plane, and came to the three bathroom doors. I went into the first two, and it was very easy to make sure there was nothing hidden in them. Both had a medium sized metal panel that was screwed onto the wall but it didn’t look to be tampered with anytime recently. I went to enter the third bathroom, the one on the right, but it was locked.
I had turned around to walk back to my seat, when I stepped on something small, but that poked up into my shoe hard. I stumbled and looked under my foot, to find about a half inch long screw stuck to the bottom of my shoe. I plucked it out, and was about to throw it in a trash can beside the bathroom doors, but I paused. I got down on one knee, and felt with my fingers at the bottom of the bathroom door. There was about a half inch gap between it and the floor. I quickly tore open the door to the other bathroom, and held the screw up to the panel on the wall. The screws were the exact same size, and coated in the same dark gray paint. I knew this was the right direction.
I stepped out of the bathroom and stood next to the door on the right. The one that has been locked since we even got on the plane. I took my gun out of the holster on my belt, possibly unnecessary, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I pounded on the door, and shouted out, “Federal Marshall open the door now!” and I pounded on it even harder. “Federal Marshall last chance!” I could hear scuffling inside, and metal clanking together and I knew I couldn’t give whoever is in there anymore time. With nearly the whole plane watching now, I stepped back and kicked the door with all my force. I could hear a snapping noise, but it only budged a little. I took another step back this time, and put everything I had into a “this is Sparta” kind of kick, with my gun pointed directly at the door way.
The door practically busted off the hinges, and I could see that a person was struggling behind it. I grabbed the top of the door, and pulled it out of the bathroom and threw it out into the aisle. “Get on the ground! Let me see your hands!” I held the gun out in front of me, and the sight of it looked to be enough to convince him. He looked to be about 40, with almost no hair but a decent sized gray beard. He was wearing a baggy Carhartt jacket, and stained blue jeans. He held up his hands in the air and cowered his face downwards in fear of being shot. I grabbed his hand and pushed him onto the ground. I had grounds to make an arrest now, I could see the panel had been taken off of the wall, which is a federal crime in itself. An array of tools and random parts were scattered around the bathroom, and he was laying on even more of them.
I pulled my zip tie cuffs out from my jeans pocket, and unraveled it. I quickly tied his hands together behind his back nice and tight, and lifted him up by his arms, pushing him back to fall onto the toilet. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney if you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you.” I read him his rights quickly, so that I could question him right then and there. “Do you understand?” He looked at me blankly, hesitating to answer. “Got it?!” I yelled in his face, bringing the gun back up towards him, and he uttered a fearful yes.
“Good. Now want to explain to me why you’re tampering with the aircraft? Are you trying to get us all killed?” He said nothing, and it was right then I realized the gravity of the situation. His intentions were to bring down the plane, and this was his method of doing it. He could see on my face that I had answered that question myself, and his attention returned to the ground, looking disappointed and nervous.
I felt a hand on my back push me to the side a little, and I turned around to see the captains.
“James? What are you doing on here?” The closer pilot questioned him. I saw the pilots eyes focus behind the man, taking in the disarray of the room, as well as the man being handcuffed on the ground.
“Why is he being arrested? Why is he even on here? He just services the planes” Both pilots looked genuinely puzzled at why he was on the plane.
“Was. I was a plane servicer.” He muttered grumpily, “Idiots fired me, they think they can just walk all over their employees, even if they have worked there for 20 YEARS!” He yelled in frustration. “They want to make me look like a fool, who’s gonna look dumb when their plane crashes for no apparent reason? Idiots should’ve taken back my entry card when they had the chance” He said with a sick small smirk, glancing down at the badge clipped to his belt.
I lost it then, I slapped the man across the face and started yelling, “You’re gonna tell me exactly what you did, and how to fix it, or I’m gonna do something a lot worse to you. I’m not letting any of these innocent lives end because some psycho lost their job. You probably lost it for a reason you old moron.” He looked at me dumbfounded, not expecting this from a cop, but I don’t care in this situation. It’s already been probably hundreds of miles in a random direction and we don’t have unlimited time. I slapped the man, James, harder this time and I could see a red mark starting to form on his face. “I’d start talking James, there’s quite a few tools in here that I could do some pretty bad things with if I need to.” There was a change in his eyes, and I could see his fear grow even more. Perfect, this is what I need.
“All I did was cut some wires. That’s it I swear it.” He said, but I didn’t believe it. I glanced at the panel and saw that there were multiple large wires tattered and torn apart, and it looked like he had mangled them on purpose. I pulled approached the panel, and did my best to remove the heat shrink wrap from the outside of the wires, to expose the metal inside. Each wire was color coded and ran from the top of the panel, downwards. It was an access point for repairing/replacing these wires and circuits. He was fully knowledgeable in what he was doing, as I’m sure he’s done it before in his previous line of work here. I connected a blue wire that was snipped to the other end of the blue wire, and I could hear passengers start to murmur. I turned around and could see the lights had gotten brighter, meaning hopefully the main power source was restored to the cabin. After a few more minutes of reaching over the man to fix the wires he tried to ruin, I had them the best I possibly could get them, with all the connections matched up again. I twisted the metal ends of each around each other to hold them firmly.
“Go check the cockpit, tell me if anything’s fixed.” The pilots took a second, admiring my work on the panel, but turned and hurried down the aisle. Passengers were still glued to the scene, very confused on what was going on, but it would be better for them not to know for now, as we are still not safe. I looked around the room for anything important, but it was mostly pieces of wire, wire cutters, a screwdriver, and a few other random tools he used to mess with the wires. This idiot had been on the plane before we even boarded. How no one noticed during the preflight check was beyond me.
I could see the pilots on their way back down the aisle, and they looked just as scared as before. I remembered the theory of the jammer however, and demanded that James tell me where it is right now. I could see the gears turning in his head, with him hesitating before flat out playing dumb. “Look James do we really need to go back to square one? I’m not an idiot, and I’m not gonna be any easier on you just because some of your idiotic rampage is fixed.”
James looked up to me and said with a straight face, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I stood in front of him, glaring at him, hoping he would reveal something in his expressions. But it was not the expression that gave it away, but the mere fact that since I had pounded on the door, he had not willingly gotten up off that closed toilet once yet, and I had not opened it. It would be a gross spot, and not the first place I would look for a jammer.
I grabbed James by the front of his shirt, and I could feel him resisting lightly when I tried to pull him to stand up. He did not want to get up, so I pulled harder and threw him onto the door that now lays on the aisle floor. I grabbed the black toilet seat and lifted it up, to see an empty toilet bowl, full of water and gross stains. I was about to shut it, when I noticed the left side of the seat was slightly higher than the right. I lifted the toilet seat itself, and saw a small black box stuck on the bottom of the toilet seat, with a small, black, rubber antenna protruding from the top of the box. I plucked the box off of the toilet seat, held it in the air for James to see, and dropped it on the ground. I stomped on it with the heel of my boot, and grinded it until I felt my foot flat with the ground. I could see it was in several pieces, and I looked at James and did my best to give him the nasty, evil smirk he had given me before when he thought he had us all killed.
“Should I go check the cockpit?” One of the pilots asked me.
“Don’t bother. Everything will be back online I assure you.” I said confidently. If he had never left the bathroom, there was nothing else I was worried he could have done to the plane. If I fixed those wires properly, with the box crushed the GPS and communication systems should be powered and receiving a signal again.
Just then, the pilot took the headset around his neck and quickly put it on his ears. “Yes! Yes! This is Delta flight 207 we are requesting immediate emergency landing, and require a location to set course to.” I could hear him say as he began to rush back to the cockpit, with his colleague following him.
That left just me and James. I took the furthest row back, and sat him at the window seat so I could be on the aisle side of him. I also shut the window because he was enjoying the view too much. The pilot returned about 15 minutes later to tell me we had actually flown further South than intended, and ended up nearly over Northern California when we regained GPS. We were only a half hour or so from being over the Pacific Ocean. The other pilot was communicating with a landing tower nearby that had cleared one of the runways in preparation of our landing. It would only be about another 15 minutes before we touch down, nearly our estimated arrival time in Seattle.
            “Wanna tell me how you got on here in the first place with all that?” I said, and he took a second to turn to me, probably thinking of whether it was worth telling or not.
He hesitated, but knowing he was caught he opened his mouth, “Been there since last night. Not hard to get in when your badge still works. Wore my high visor and walked right to the plane without an odd glance. And voila, doomed plane.” I was kinda surprised how he said the last part as if it actually was the product of a magic trick. I just turned away.
            I was most thankful that we did not end up over the Pacific Ocean, or even worse buried 6 feet under the ground from this James characters psycho temper.
When we finally touched down and taxi’d near our gate, we were greeted by a handful of police who came on board immediately. They replaced his handcuffs with metal ones, and escorted him off the plane. The passengers were allowed to exit the plane, and it left me and a few other officers. I filled them in on the situation, and the information he had given me, and they too seemed surprised and disgusted by his psychotic agenda.
I grabbed my duffle bag full of random garbage, and exited the plane as well. This wouldn’t be the last I’d hear of this case, as I’m sure I’ll have to testify in court multiple times, but for now a mini bar sounds pretty good.  
 

you say captains here and pilots later - I'd be consistent in terminology.  Also, it seems to me one of them would stay in the cockpit given the situation??

Nice reference back to this character builder.   Overall, this is a great job.  One of the better proper mysteries I've read in creative writing the past two years.  There are some comma/grammar issues here and there, but the genre is spot-on and the MC does some honest solving.  Good job!