Read Dark Screams: Volume Two for Free Online Page B

no solid footing beneath them.
    A few of them, however, felt free to roam about the “cabin,” in particular, the boy who strayed frequently from his pregnant mother (slumped in the first row, her legs stretched wearily in front) and Robert’s friend, who seemed more alone than any of them, an outsider in this group of legally sanctioned relatives. Each time he got up for more coffee or to select from the snack offerings or choose a new section of
USA Today,
he returned to a different spot.
    He settled near the African American family now, leaving a respectful empty seat between them. The husband had turned away slightly to stare at the wall. The thin, neatly dressed woman held a baby, most likely a grandchild. Michelle wondered how the baby could be comfortable seated in the woman’s sharp-boned lap, but the infant smiled, adorable and oblivious in a sun-yellow dress, with a white lace bonnet bow-tied beneath her chin. She seemed to enjoy the rhythm as her grandmother tapped one leg nervously.
    “It will be all right,” Robert’s friend said to the old woman. “Don’t you think?”
    “Yes, I do,” she said. “What I told my husband, the Lord wouldn’t send us more than we could handle.”
    “No,” Robert’s friend said. “No, He wouldn’t.”
    “This here’s our granddaughter. We took care of her this week while our daughter was in Nashville.” She spoke inclusively, but her husband didn’t acknowledge the conversation. “Vanessa’s been no trouble at all, have you, dear?” She adjusted the bonnet, actually tilting it slightly off center. “ ’Course, the nice thing about grandkids is, you can hand them back to their mommy before they get to be a bother.” Her voice shook on the last words, her lower lip trembling.
    “She’ll be happy to see her mother again.” Robert’s friend reached a long arm across the empty seat and patted the woman on the knee. For a moment, her leg ceased the nervous tapping; the infant looked startled but remained peaceful. The old woman smiled back at him.
    It was good of him to offer comfort, Michelle thought. It was good of the grandmother to accept it.
    —
    Time passed with agonizing slowness. The tension was nearly unendurable to Michelle, and she imagined it was exponentially worse for those with loved ones on Flight 1137.
    Yet people remained remarkably calm. When the granddaughter cried, as babies will, everyone waited without comment for the sound to end. But at some point their civility and polite denial would break under the strain. And Michelle knew the shift would be dramatic, with one screaming outburst triggering a domino effect of fear and rage. And who could they take their anger out on? God wasn’t here. Just her and Wade, two representatives from the airline.
    Five minutes before ten-thirty. She wondered if people expected the announcement to be timed to the half-hour, like the start of television shows.
    Wade needed to tell them. The longer he waited, the worse it would be.
    Michelle backed away from the lectern and stood to the side. Most of the people sat up straight in their chairs and faced the front of the room. They stared at the projected status board as if it were a curtain ready to open. Each instant the imaged refreshed, a horrible ripple of anticipation trembled through the crowd.
    Tell them, Wade. Tell them gently, but tell them.
    In the middle row, Robert’s friend looked directly at her boss instead of at the screen. He studied Wade, as if he could read something in his face.
    All the while, her boss clicked at his keyboard. Was he composing some message? Michelle noticed a shifting cascade of colors reflected in the lenses of Wade’s glasses. The images were too small, she was certain. It was impossible that someone could decipher a reflected picture in those tiny ovals of glass.
    In the waiting audience, Robert’s friend continued to focus on Wade.
    Then the calm finally broke, in a shrill chaos more spectacular than anything