You just boarded a flight to New York.
There are one hundred and forty-three other passengers onboard.
What you don’t know is that thirty minutes before the flight your pilot’s family was kidnapped.
For his family to live, everyone on your plane must die.
The only way the family will survive is if the pilot follows his orders and crashes the plane.
Enjoy the flight…
This has to be the most talked about and eagerly awaited thriller of the year, garnering the praise of some real crime heavyweights, Don Winslow, Steve Cavanagh, Adrian McKinty to name but some.
So with this in mind, both if your interest is piqued, or if this book has momentarily slipped off your radar, I am delighted to present a teaser of an extract for you as part of the Random Things Tour for the must-read book of the year. Ensure your seatbelt is secure, that you know where the exits are, and expect some serious mental and physical turbulence…
WHEN THE SHOE DROPPED INTO HER LAP THE FOOT WAS STILL IN IT.
She flung it into the air with a shriek. The bloodied mass hung in weightless suspension before being sucked out of the massive hole in the side of the aircraft. On the floor next to her seat, a flight attendant crawled up the aisle screaming for the passengers to put their oxygen masks on.
From the back of the airplane, Bill observed it all.
The passenger with the shoe clearly couldn’t hear what the young flight attendant was yelling. She probably hadn’t heard a thing since the explosion. Thin lines of blood trickled out of both ears.
The blast had thrown the flight attendant’s body into the air and then back down, her head of curly brown hair hitting the floor with a thwack. She lay motionless for a second before the plane went into a steep nosedive. Sliding down the aisle, the flight attendant grabbed at the metal rungs beneath the passenger seats. Clutching on to one, her arms shook as she tried to pull herself up against the plane’s downward pitch. As she flipped onto her side, her feet floated and dangled in the air. Debris flew all around the plane; paper and clothing, a laptop, a soda can. A baby’s blanket. It was like the inside of a tornado.
Bill followed her gaze down the plane—and saw sky.
Sunlight shone in on them from a wide opening that had been the over-wing emergency exit not thirty seconds ago. The other flight attendant had just stopped there to collect trash.
Bill had watched the older, redheaded flight attendant smile, take the empty cup in her gloved hand, drop it in the plastic bag—and then in one explosive moment she was gone. The whole row was gone. The side of the aircraft was gone. Bill widened his stance as the plane yawed left to right, seemingly unable to keep a straight path. Of course, the rudder, he thought. The whole tail was probably damaged.
A crack came from above the brunette flight attendant’s head as several overhead bins burst open. Luggage tumbled out, tossed violently about the cabin. A large pink suitcase with wheels shot forward, sucked toward the opening. It hit the side of the fuselage as it went out, a chunk of the aircraft’s skin ripped off with it. Exposed frames and stringers created a lattice of human engineering against the heavens. Beyond the whipping wires hissing orange and yellow sparks, clouds dotted the view. Bill squinted against the sun.
The plane levelled off enough that the flight attendant on the floor could get to her knees. Bill watched her struggle against a body that wouldn’t cooperate. She managed to pull her leg forward only to find her femur sticking out of her thigh. She blinked at the bloody wound a few times and then kept crawling.
T. J. Newman, a former bookseller turned flight attendant, worked for Virgin America and Alaska Airlines from 2011 to 2021. She wrote much of Falling on cross-country red-eye flights while her passengers were asleep. She lives in Phoenix, Arizona. Falling is her first novel.
Missed a post? Catch up at these excellent sites: