I can sense the wind gently blowing against my neck, as my feet are struggling to keep up with the rest of my body.  The weight of my bags is pushing my shoulders down while great pain shoots through my arm.  My ears pick up blurred conversations in the background. The clock is quickly ticking and my opportunity is slowly drifting away.  As I think to myself what a great start to a relaxing weekend, I hear the words that I most definitely do not want to hear.

“Good afternoon, this is the last call for passengers to board the flight from Augusta, Maine to Cancun, Mexico. The plane will be leaving in approximately five minutes.”  Getting to the gate just as it was about to close, the lady took my ticket and scanned it. “Sir, You look a little sleep deprived; can I make your flight more complacent?” The flight attendant asked solicitously. “I am well, thank you, just a bit late that's all.” 

I anxiously walk to the plane and find my seat.  It was right next to a gentleman that looked strange in a way. I sit down and I don’t think about it anymore. Just as I was putting my headphones on; the gentleman next to me discreetly taps my shoulder until I acknowledge him.

“Excuse me, I am on break; can you please not disrupt my peace.  I have been waiting seven months for my vacation, and I don’t need anyone interjecting my privacy.” I said rambunctiously. He pleaded “Well we're here for 25 hours, don’t you think we should get to know each other?” I answered, “That’s a very good point, sorry for being so rude, let's talk!”

We were talking for the longest time, turns out he cherishes similar things that I do. While he kept talking about himself; I noticed he had a very strange tattoo, one that I had never seen before. It appeared as if a knife was cutting through someone's head, symbolizing death.  It looked grotesque and creepy, it gave me the chills as if I had stepped outside my house on a snowy day with no jacket. The tattoo was very graphic it painted a bad image and shot questions spinning around in my head.

He got up and walked to the back of the airplane to get a snack; so I curiously took a glance at his computer to see if there is any evidence of a crime.  Being an FBI agent I am very lore, I know when people are hiding things; he is definitely hiding something. I snitch the black, petite computer out of his seat, when I open it up there is a tab that reads “confidential.” I remembered the last time I saw a computer file that said "confidential", it was the night that I got called into work for an emergency. I threw on my jacket and ran out the door into my brand new Cadillac. The emergency was at a parking ramp down on 5th street by the museum. I was looking for the guy that had broken into the government database and stole information from our “confidential” files. Stepping cautiously I turned the corner, ”BAM.” That’s when everything went downhill. My partner had just arrived where I was laying with red liquid, oozing out of my lower stomach. I recall that he told me a look of Anguish crossed over my face. Minutes later I was in a vehicle that was loud and blinking crazily with colored lights. This was a bit fuzzy in my memory because I lost so much blood. I had found myself on a white rectangle pillow with

cords and fluids running into my body.  I was hospitalized for two weeks after this incident, I will always remember this moment.

Should I really open this? What will I find out? Do I want that experience to repeat? Would I get promoted as head of my detective group?  All these images and thoughts spun faster than a cheetah chasing after it’s prey. I decide not to listen to my conscience. Flipping the screen back up, I softly tap with two fingers. Drawings, scales, places, names of people, pictures, weapons, these were the things he had been hiding.  I then realize that he was the “Mad Killer.” A task that was being investigated by my colleagues. I go on clicking through all the folders, finding more evidence. “Here,” I said to myself, I found the file that holds the future plans and dates of what appears to be a threat of an attack.  I have to call the FBI; let them know what I found.  Just as I was dialing the number in my teeny tiny phone, I hear the voice of the man that was seated next to me.  He was getting closer; I slam the laptop down hard until the screen clinks against the keyboard, onto his seat.

“So where were we?” I said when he returned. “Yes, you were asking me questions, remember?” “Ahh yes, I have many questions to ask you, that's of course if you don’t mind.”

He went along with it like he was as gullible as a young child who can’t see the truth behind anything.  As we were talking, my suspicions were confirmed. I decide to walk to the restroom, to contact my fellow agents. “RRIINNGG” My SAT phone rang a trillion times before anyone bothered to answer. I hope the man wasn’t manipulating me into thinking he didn’t know I was onto him.

“Hello, this is agent 224 how can I help you?” “This is agent 249 I think I have found the ”Mad Killer.” I am on my way to Cancun, Mexico; he is seated next to me, and I need help. I saw his computer files; I found out that he wants to kill a girl named Katie Haptel.”  “Are you sure this is the Mad Killer?” He asked in assurance. “Yes, he has the same tattoo in the picture that was sent to me from the agency about a week ago, he also has files that show places and people he wants to kill.” “I will report this to the head of the agency; we will get you help, stay calm and keep him in sight at all times. If I don’t message you back with the plan in 15 minutes, well, just keep him in sight.” He hangs up. I am hoping that he isn’t going to act indolently upon this situation. I have much respect for the agency, but sometimes they don’t put the most dangerous situations as a first priority.

It is getting late, the sky was navy blue; I could faintly see the clouds, but the stars were shining bright like a million diamonds in the sky. I knew dozing off while looking at the stars was more relaxing, but I have to keep the “Mad Killer” in sight. Whenever he gets up, my eyes glance right at him.

“Bleep” My message read; “Thank you for taking time out of your vacation to address this situation.  When your flight lands, our organization and the police will be armed and in position. All you have to do is come out with the “Mad Killer” handcuffed!  Best of luck.”

It's late, so I pull my blanket over my legs and tilt my chair back. That's when I hear a “ZZZ” The man was snoring. I suddenly realize that I had a backup pair of handcuffs in my bag. I quietly creep out of my chair, grab the handcuffs, and sit down. I try not to make any noise as I cuff the man's hands to his chair. The job is done. The force of my neck tilting at a perfect angle soon makes a comfortable position. My eyelids shutter open and closed many times, my long black lashes gently swift with the rest of my eye. Straightaway they close one more time, then there's no more movement.

The sun shines brightly in my eyes as I awake from a long night’s rest. I observe that the man is trying to get out of his handcuffs, as an obscure look paints over his square face. The flight attendant came over questioning his restraints, I pull out my badge and explain that it’s a classified situation. Right as the tension dialed down we heard…”Our flight will be landing in approximately 10 minutes. We hope you enjoyed your time here with us”

The arrival to Cancun, Mexico came quickly. Our airplane was just above the city so everything was clear and beautiful. The sky was a soft blue, with scattered fluffy white clouds drifting in the wind. As we grew closer and closer to the ground, I got more anxious. I want this man to be dealt with; I don’t want to be responsible for him anymore. We landed faster than my fingers could complete a whole snap. The wheels skid roughly against the concrete terrain. All of the passengers waited until the airplane was at a complete stop. “Click, Click”  The seatbelts got unbuckled. “ Hold up” I screeched. “FBI, everyone move!” I undo one handcuff and attach it to myself; so he can’t get away. We walk off the plane only to find ten of my FBI colleagues waiting to take the criminal off my hands; like they promised!

I don’t know what happened to the “Mad Killer” after that, it was classified information.  I do know that he now walks in shame for the rest of his life. As for me, I got the satisfaction of knowing that I may have just saved hundreds of people from that troubled human being.  Well, that's not the only thing; I got another two weeks off of work, and the government is paying for my vacation! I guess a little adventure isn’t so bad after all!