In the cabin, Mary begins making announcements for everyone to get settled in so they can push back quickly, apologizing for the late takeoff, and gives their estimated enroute and arrival time into Minneapolis.

With clear skies overhead, allowing the multitude of stars to twinkle on a black velvet background, Sheldon looks to the lights shining in the mostly empty terminal buildings of SEATAC. He is reminded of why he likes the red-eye flights so much. It’s the peacefulness that they afford and the limited traffic flying the airways. The radio isn’t filled with the constant chatter of controllers directing traffic in and out of the busy airports. It’s like they are the only ones aloft and it brings him back to his early days of flying, when he could actually enjoy the feeling of being airborne. He is able to forget feeling like a bus driver and allow himself to sink into the peace of the night.

Climbing steeply out of the basin of Western Washington, the twin engines of the 757 howling with their characteristic whine, Sheldon banks the aircraft to the east. The lights from the western corridor, from Seattle south to Olympia, shimmer under the night sky. Moonlight glitters off the waters of the Puget Sound fading behind, also reflecting off the ice fields of Mount Rainier to the south.

Levelling off at their cruise altitude of 35,000 feet, Sheldon sets the autopilot and glances at the lights of Spokane shining off their nose ahead. The glow of the city rises starkly amid the surrounding darkness. Settling back into his seat, he wants to enjoy the last night flight that he’ll see for some time.

Looking at the approaching city, he reflects on the current pandemic sweeping across the world. Many of his friends have been stricken with the virus, but with advent of the vaccine, he hopes the contagion will be brought rapidly under control. He’s not sure just how much longer he’ll be able to function with the continuous flights and lack of rest. With Spokane sliding past the wing, he wonders how many below are currently lying on their sick beds. The lights continue to sparkle regardless of how many have been afflicted.

With a strong jet stream pushing them, they leave Spokane far behind. Entering the western edges of the Rocky Mountains, the intercom light from the cabin illuminates, letting him know one of the flight attendants is calling.

Probably to see if we want something to eat or drink, he thinks, answering.

“Captain,” Mary says, “I just thought you should know that the woman in 3A is out cold and looks worse. She’s one of those who had to be wheel-chaired in. We’ve been trying to rouse her without success. There are others in economy that are in the same condition.”

“Are you sure they aren’t just asleep?” Sheldon asks, knowing most of the passengers on red-eyes try to get whatever rest they can.

“That’s what I was thinking, but they look really sick; worse than when they came in. They’re all very pale,” Mary answers.

“Do you think it’s bad enough that we need to divert?” Sheldon asks.

“I’m not sure.”

“Okay, make sure the door is clear. I’m coming out,” Sheldon states.

“It’s clear.”

Sheldon informs his co-pilot, a man he hasn’t flown with before, of the situation and that he’s going into the cabin.

“Be ready to divert us. We have Salt Lake City to the south and Denver ahead,” Sheldon says, rising.

Entering the cabin, he closes the door and is greeted by Mary. Looking over the dimly lit interior, he sees some of the overhead seat lights shining down, brightly illuminating a couple of passengers who can’t sleep and are attempting to catch up on their reading or work. He’s been on enough of these flights that he’s surprised their neighbors aren’t complaining about the lights being on. There’s not much for the flight attendants to do on these flights as they usually suspend the in-flight service so as to not wake the passengers.

Under one of the shining lights in first class is the young woman in question, seated next to the window. Over the top of the seats, only her head is visible and is pressed against the cream-colored plastic wall with her eyes shut. Even from the front galley, he can see how pale the woman looks.

“I was worried, so I’ve tried waking her several times,” Mary says, standing to the side in the galley.

“And the others?” Sheldon questions.

“They look in the same condition and we’ve tried waking them as well. They just aren’t responding,” Mary replies.

Sheldon nods and takes the few steps to the seat row. A series of very slight bumps rock the aircraft as they proceed through an area of light turbulence inherent over the Rocky Mountains. No one wakes to the slight tremors.

In the darkened cabin, the light illuminating the woman makes it appear as if she’s under a floodlight, the circle of brightness highlighting her pale face. Gazing at her, Sheldon observes dark circles under her eyes, giving them a sunken look.