He was alone. In the roaring plane with no pilot he was alone. Alone.

His stomach tightened into a series of rolling knots.

The pilot nodded. "All of flying is easy. Just takes learning. Like everything else. Like everything else."

Be asleep, his mind screamed at the pilot.

Then the bird started again, and some kind of buzzing insect, and then a chattering and a cawing.

And now a jolt took him like a hammerblow.

The plane slewed suddenly to the right.

Hisses and blurks, small sounds, birds singing, hum of insects, splashes from the fish jumping—

Either way he would probably be home by late night or early morning, home where he could sit down and eat a large, cheesy, juicy burger with tomatoes and double fries with ketchup and a thick chocolate shake.

It was as if his hands and arms were as heavy as lead.

He ripped at it until it released and somehow—the water trying to kill him, to end him—

It was a clear, blue-sky day with fluffy bits of clouds here and there.