Four Past Midnight - Stephen King [19]
Crew-Neck raised a hand to his nose, verifying that it was still there. A narrow ribbon of blood, no wider than the pull-strip on a pack of cigarettes, ran from each nostril. The tips of his fingers came away bloody, and he looked at them unbelievingly. He opened his mouth.
'I wouldn't, mister,' Don Gaffney said. 'Guy means it. You better come along with me.'
He took Crew-Neck's arm. For a moment Crew-Neck resisted Gaffney's gentle tug. He opened his mouth again.
'Bad idea,' the girl who looked stoned told him.
Crew-Neck closed his mouth and allowed Gaffney to lead him back toward the rear of first class. He looked over his shoulder once, his eyes wide and stunned, and then dabbed his fingers under his nose again.
Nick, meanwhile, had lost all interest in the man. He was peering out one of the windows. 'We appear to be over the Rockies,' he said, 'and we seem to be at a safe enough altitude.'
Brian looked out himself for a moment. It was the Rockies, all right, and near the center of the range, by the look. He put their altitude at about 35,000 feet. Just about what Melanie Trevor had told him. So they were fine ... at least, so far.
'Come on,' he said. 'Help me break down this door.'
Nick joined him in front of the door. 'Shall I captain this part of the operation, Brian? I have some experience.'
'Be my guest.' Brian found himself wondering exactly how Nick Hopewell had come by his experience in twisting noses and breaking down doors. He had an idea it was probably a long story.
'It would be helpful to know how strong the lock is,' Nick said. 'If we hit it too hard, we're apt to go catapulting straight into the cockpit. I wouldn't want to run into something that won't bear running into.'
'I don't know,' Brian said truthfully. 'I don't think it's tremendously strong, though.'
'All right,' Nick said. 'Turn and face me - your right shoulder pointing at the door, my left.'
Brian did.
'I'll count off. We're going to shoulder it together on three. Dip your legs as we go in; we're more apt to pop the lock if we hit the door lower down.
'Don't hit it as hard as you can. About half. If that isn't enough, we can always go again. Got it?'
'I've got it.'
The girl, who looked a little more awake and with it now, said: 'I don't suppose they leave a key under the doormat or anything, huh?'
Nick looked at her, startled, then back at Brian. 'Do they by any chance leave a key someplace?'
Brian shook his head. 'I'm afraid not. It's an anti-terrorist precaution.'
'Of course,' Nick said. 'Of course it is.' He glanced at the girl and winked. 'But that's using your head, just the same.'
The girl smiled at him uncertainly.
Nick turned back to Brian. 'Ready, then?'
'Ready.'
'Right, then. One ... two ... three!'
They drove forward into the door, dipping down in perfect synchronicity just before they hit it, and the door popped open with absurd ease. There was a small lip - too short by at least three inches to be considered a step between the service area and the cockpit. Brian struck this with the edge of his shoe and would have fallen sideways into the cockpit if Nick hadn't grabbed him by the shoulder. The man was as quick as a cat.
'Right, then,' he said, more to himself than to Brian. 'Let's just see what we're dealing with here, shall we?'
5
The cockpit was empty. Looking into it made Brian's arms and neck prickle with gooseflesh. It was all well and good to know that a 767 could fly thousands of miles on autopilot, using information which had been programmed into its inertial navigation system - God knew he had flown enough miles that way himself - but it was another to see two empty seats. That was what chilled him. He had never seen an empty in-flight cockpit during his entire career.
He was seeing one now. The pilot's controls moved by themselves, making the infinitesimal corrections necessary to keep the plane on its plotted course to Boston. The board was green. The two small wings on the plane's attitude indicator