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Chapter Seventeen: The Package

The Atlantic stretched endlessly beneath Airbus 0718.
From the cockpit, everything appeared perfectly routine.
Altitude steady.
Engines performing flawlessly.
Weather clear.
The captain smiled as he glanced over the instruments.
"This may be the smoothest crossing we've had all month."
His co-pilot nodded.
"If only every flight was like this."
Neither man knew that another battle was unfolding just beyond human sight.

Inside the passenger cabin...
the man seated in 34C slowly raised his eyes.
He looked directly at Tom.
Then...
almost imperceptibly...
he nodded.
Tom frowned.
Who is he?
The stranger rose from his seat.
Calmly.
Purposefully.
He walked toward the rear washrooms.
As he passed Tom, he quietly dropped a folded napkin onto the floor.
No one noticed.
Except Tom.
After the man disappeared behind the toilet door, Tom bent down and picked it up.
Inside were only six handwritten words.
You have something that belongs to me.
Tom's heartbeat quickened.
He looked instinctively toward his backpack beneath the seat.
The package.

Across the aisle, Archto saw everything.
The guardian angel stepped closer.
Though Tom could not see him, an unfamiliar feeling stirred inside him.
Don't do it.
It wasn't a voice.
More like a quiet conviction rising from somewhere deeper than his thoughts.
Tom rubbed his forehead.
Why was he suddenly feeling sick?

Several rows away, Tim quietly watched.
Years of investigative reporting had taught him to recognise nervous behaviour.
The exchange had been subtle.
Too subtle for most passengers.
Not for him.
He quietly unbuckled his seatbelt.
"I'm just stretching my legs," he muttered.
But his eyes never left Tom.

Rachel was reading quietly from her Bible.
Her eyes rested upon familiar words.
"The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?"
As she read...
peace settled over her heart.
Archrac smiled.
Darkness could be felt.
But so could the presence of God.

Far beneath Paris...
Satan watched with growing anticipation.
The great black triangle floated behind his throne, pulsing with increasing darkness as countless fallen spirits disappeared into its depths.
The frog-eyed generals stood silently before him.
"Our servant has made contact."
Satan smiled.
"And Tom?"
"He is beginning to suspect."
The serpent laughed softly.
"Fear always clouds judgement."
"He will obey."
"He always has."

Back aboard the aircraft...
Tom stood.
His legs felt strangely weak.
He picked up his backpack.
Every step towards the rear of the aircraft felt heavier than the last.
He stopped outside the washroom door.
The stranger opened it almost immediately.
"You took your time."
"I don't know you," Tom replied quietly.
The man's eyes narrowed.
"You've got my package."
Tom hesitated.
"What package?"
The stranger's expression changed instantly.
Gone was the calm face.
Now there was only anger.
"Don't play games."
"You were told to bring it."
Tom's stomach tightened.
Who told him?
"I was only asked to deliver something."
The stranger stepped closer.
"Good."
"Then hand it over."

Inside the unseen realm...
the frog-eyed demons gathered around both men.
Their excitement was almost uncontrollable.
One whispered,
"Yes..."
Another hissed,
"Give it to him."
A third laughed,
"The skies belong to us."
Across the aisle, Archto immediately signalled toward Archdan.
Within moments all seven guardian angels had quietly repositioned themselves throughout the cabin.
Their expressions remained calm.
But their eyes never left the rear galley.

Tom slowly removed the package from his backpack.
It was smaller than a shoebox.
Wrapped in plain brown paper.
No labels.
No markings.
He stared at it.
"What is this?"
The stranger smiled.
"The future."
Tom frowned.
"I was told never to ask."
"And you should have kept following instructions."
Something about those words sent a chill through Tom's entire body.
He suddenly realised...
he had never once questioned the people controlling his life.
Not when they forced him to lie.
Not when they made him sell drugs.
Not when they demanded he carry this package.
For the first time...
he wanted answers.
"I'm not giving you anything..."
"...until you tell me what's inside."
The stranger's eyes darkened.
"You don't need to know."
"I think I do."
The silence between them became suffocating.

Far above...
Michael looked down.
Behind him stood ranks of mighty angels awaiting only one command.
"The hour has come," one of them said.
Michael remained perfectly still.
"The first move has been made."

Inside the washroom doorway...
the stranger's patience vanished.
His voice dropped to a cold whisper.
"You really don't know..."
"...do you?"
Tom shook his head.
The stranger smiled.
Almost pityingly.
"You're carrying the second half."
Tom blinked.
"The second half of what?"
The stranger leaned close.
"The fire."
Every colour drained from Tom's face.
"What...?"
Before another word could be spoken...
the aircraft jolted violently.
A pocket of unexpected turbulence rocked the cabin.
Passengers gasped.
Coffee spilled.
The stranger instinctively grabbed the wall to steady himself.
The package slipped from Tom's hands.
It crashed onto the floor.
The brown paper split open.
Inside...
both men stared.
Rows of tightly sealed chemical containers gleamed beneath the cabin lights.
Neither man moved.
Tom looked from the package...
to the stranger...
and finally whispered,
"What have you made me carry?"
The stranger slowly smiled.
Then, for the first time, he reached inside his jacket.
And Tom caught sight...
of a handgun.
At that exact moment, throughout the unseen realm, every frog-eyed demon erupted in savage delight.
The trap had sprung.
And in Heaven, the seven newly commissioned guardian angels stepped forward together.
The battle they had been trained for...
had finally begun.