Chapter 6 - The Crimson Darkness
The cabin lights didn't just flicker—they died entirely, plunging the interior of Flight 271 into an eerie, blood-red wash of emergency backup illumination.
Outside, the Seattle rain blurred across the cabin windows like streaks of silver grease under the flashing blue and red strobes of arriving federal security vehicles. Inside, the muffled hum of the auxiliary power unit dropped an octave, leaving behind a heavy, suffocating silence punctuated only by the shallow, terrified breathing of forty trapped passengers.
"Keep your seats!" Captain Vance's voice cut sharply through the crimson gloom, steady and authoritative as she slapped emergency flashlights onto the cockpit console. "Cabin crew, maintain lockdown. Nobody opens an overhead bin, nobody moves into the aisles."
My hand froze over the drawer of the galley kit where the heavy-duty master panel access screwdriver lay buried beneath service manuals. The cold metal handle felt slick against my palm.
Beside me in the dim light, Arthur Parker didn't flinch. He held young Noah tight against his chest, the boy’s patched-up stuffed rabbit pressed flat between them. With his free hand, Arthur slid the flashing blue security key across the stainless-steel counter toward me.
"Take it, Ryan," Arthur whispered, his voice dangerously low. "The emergency power cut wasn't a mechanical failure. Someone just tripped the manual circuit breaker from the cabin management sub-panel located right behind bulkhead row three."
My stomach dropped. "Row three? That's right behind first class."
"Which means the saboteur isn't hiding outside on the tarmac or miles away in a terminal office," Arthur replied, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the shadowed aisle stretching back into economy. "They are sitting right inside this tube with us, watching our every move."
Before I could answer, a sharp, metallic clack echoed from the overhead ceiling panels above row four.
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It sounded like a service latch sliding open.
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