Four Past Midnight - Stephen King [121]
32
Brian opened the trapdoor which lay below the jut of the instrument panel and tried to remember why he hadn't used it to offload his passengers at Bangor International; it was a hell of a lot easier to use than the slide. There didn't seem to be a why. He just hadn't thought of it, probably because he was trained to think of the escape slide before anything else in an emergency.
He dropped down into the forward-hold area, ducked below a cluster of electrical cables, and undogged the hatch in the floor of the 767's nose. Albert joined him and helped Bethany down. Brian helped Laurel, and then he and Albert helped Rudy, who moved as if his bones had turned to glass. Rudy was still clutching his rosary tight in one hand. The space below the cockpit was now very cramped, and Bob Jenkins waited for them above, propped on his hands and peering down at them through the trapdoor.
Brian pulled the ladder out of its storage clips, secured it in place, and then, one by one, they descended to the tarmac, Brian first, Bob last.
As Brian's feet touched down, he felt a mad urge to place his hand over his heart and cry out: I claim this land of rancid milk and sour honey for the survivors of Flight 29 ... at least until the langoliers arrive!
He said nothing. He only stood there with the others below the loom of the jetliner's nose, feeling a light breeze against one cheek and looking around. In the distance he heard a sound. It was not the chewing, crunching sound of which they had gradually become aware in Bangor - nothing like it - but he couldn't decide exactly what it did sound like.
'What's that?' Bethany asked. 'What's that humming? It sounds like electricity .'
'No, it doesn't,' Bob said thoughtfully. 'It sounds like..' He shook his head.
'It doesn't sound like anything I've ever heard before,' Brian said, but he wasn't sure if that was true. Again he was haunted by the sense that something he knew or should know was dancing just beyond his mental grasp.
'It's them, isn't it?' Bethany asked half-hysterically. 'It's them, coming. It's the langoliers Dinah told us about.'
'I don't think so. It doesn't sound the same at all.' But he felt the fear begin in his belly just the same.
'Now what?' Rudy asked. His voice was as harsh as a crow's. 'Do we start all over again?'
'Well, we won't need the conveyor belt, and that's a start,' Brian said. 'The jetway service door is open.' He stepped out from beneath the 767's nose and pointed. The force of their arrival at Gate 29 had knocked the rolling ladder away from the door, but it would be easy enough to slip it back into position. 'Come on.'
They walked toward the ladder.
'Albert?' Brian said. 'Help me with the lad
'Wait,' Bob said.
Brian turned his head and saw Bob looking around with cautious wonder. And the expression in his previously dazed eyes ... was that hope?
'What? What is it, Bob? What do you see?'
'Just another deserted airport. It's what I feel.' He raised a hand to his cheek ... then simply held it out in the air, like a man trying to flag a ride.
Brian started to ask him what he meant, and realized that he knew. Hadn't he noticed it himself while they had been standing under the liner's nose? Noticed it and then dismissed it?
There was a breeze blowing against his face. Not much of a breeze, hardly more than a puff, but it was a breeze. The air was in motion.
'Holy crow,' Albert said. He popped a finger into his mouth, wetting it, and held it up. An unbelieving grin touched his face.
'That isn't all, either,' Laurel said. 'Listen!'
She dashed from where they were standing down toward the 767's wing.
Then she ran back to them again, her hair streaming out behind her. The high heels she was wearing clicked crisply on the concrete.
'Did you hear it?' she asked them. 'Did you hear it?'
They had heard. The flat, muffled quality was gone. Now, just listening to Laurel speak, Brian realized that in Bangor they had all sounded as if they had been talking with their heads poked inside bells which had been