Page 101 of All That Glitters
The world seemed to slow down.
“No friggin’ way…” she whispered.
It was Tony, weaving through the gridlock on Veronica’s scooter. He was a hundred yards ahead, a tiny, ridiculous knight on a sputtering steed. Without a second thought, Debbie shoved the Uber door open and hopped out into the traffic.
“TONY!” she shouted, waving her arms frantically.
But he was too far away to hear her over the honking and the pathetic puttering of the scooter’s tiny engine. He disappearedbetween a semi-truck and a bus. With a surge of adrenaline, Debbie took off running, dodging angry drivers and side-view mirrors as she chased after him down the clogged freeway.
Tony’s scooter sputtered up to the curb outside the TWA terminal. He leaped off, leaving it propped against a trash can without a second thought, and raced inside.
On the runway just outside, a large jet, its engines screaming a deafening whine, was slowly pulling away from the boarding ramp.
Inside the terminal, Tony sprinted through the crowds, his eyes scanning the glowing signs until he found it: Gate 6, Paris. He raced up to the check-in counter. Behind it, a ticketing agent was calmly sorting through boarding passes.
“Is this the flight that’s going to Paris?” Tony gasped, out of breath.
“It is,” the agent replied calmly. “But they’ve already boarded. The jetway is closed.”
“I’ll just be a second,” Tony said, and before the agent could react, he vaulted over the counter and dashed down the long, empty boarding ramp.
The agent stared after him for a second, his mouth agape, then snatched up the phone. “We need security at Gate Six. Immediately.”
Debbie burst through the terminal doors, huffing and puffing, her lungs on fire. She took off down the main concourse, darting between slow-moving passengers. A man towing a bulky suitcase stepped into her path. She plowed right into him, sending him and his luggage toppling to the floor in a clatter of wheels and polyester.
“Oops. Sorry!” she gasped, hopping to her feet and continuing her frantic sprint without looking back.
At the end of the boarding ramp, Tony stared out the open door in horror. The plane was already twenty feet away, its massive engines whining as it taxied further down the tarmac. It was leaving. She was leaving. Below him, it was a twelve-foot drop to the hard pavement. He didn’t hesitate. He swung his legs over the edge of the ramp, lowered himself as far as he could, then let go, his sneakers hitting the ground with a painful thud that shot up his legs.
The plane was still moving, a giant metal bird leaving him behind. Frantically, he looked around and saw it — one of those small service trucks with a boarding ladder attached to the back. He ran over to it, yanked open the driver’s side door, and climbed in. The keys were in the ignition. It was a miracle.
As he turned the key, he saw a fleet of airport police cars and a SWAT van barrel onto the runway from a service road, their lights flashing, sirens wailing. They were heading straight towards him. He slammed the truck into gear and sped across the runway, a tiny, ridiculous vehicle on a collision course with a 747.
Debbie reached the check-in counter at Gate 6, breathless and frantic.
“Did a guy,” she panted, leaning on the counter, “come by here… and do something completely stupid?”
The ticketing agent just pointed a trembling finger down the boarding ramp. “There was this one guy,” he said, his voice shaking. “He ran out onto the runway.”
“That’s him,” she said. “Thanks.” She raced past the agent and down the ramp.
“Wait! You can’t—”
Tony’s boarding truck sped past the plane’s cockpit, swerving in front of it with a squeal of tires. The 747’s massive enginesroared as it ground to a screeching halt just feet from the tiny truck. Tony whipped the truck around to the side of the plane, backing the boarding ladder up to the side exit door.
Inside the plane, passengers were mumbling, peering out the windows at the commotion.
“Is there a reason we’ve stopped?” one man asked a flight attendant.
“I’m checking on it right now, sir,” she said, trying to remain calm.
As she headed towards the pilot’s cabin, a sharp, insistent knocking came from the side exit door. She froze. More knocking.
“Hello?” she called out tentatively.
She unlatched the heavy door and pulled it open. Tony was standing there on the boarding ladder, his hair a mess, his face flushed with adrenaline and a wild, desperate hope.
“Hey,” he gasped. “I just need to talk to one of your passengers real quickly.”
