Mile-High Malediction, Part I: Ascent

Priya burst onto the Boeing 747, her backpack slapping against blue aisle seats while she ducked and searched the rows. Good—He wasn’t there. While each passenger had scanned their boarding passes, she’d already scanned them with facial-recognition trauma, searching for the saffron monstrosity.

Sun Country Airlines. She’d never even heard of them before. Good, he probably hadn’t either. America had been a disaster last time, literally.

She finally reached her seat, 29F. Fitting, really, in more ways than one. Heaving a sigh of relief, she threw her bag on the ground and thrust her boots into the chair ahead of her. The guy in front got a rush of leather and trendy goth perfume.

But then—he came. A mumbling, trembling Buddhist monk shuffled onto the aircraft after a flight attendant squealed at him to get off the sky bridge. Shen-Yun chanted prayers under his breath, eyes twitching under half-shut lids as he crept forward, one careful step at a time.

When Priya saw those terrible saffron robes, she froze. PTSD surged through her bloodstream—instincts taking over.

She let out a war cry. Shen-Yun broke from his meditation and shrieked. “That witch! That terrible witch!”

She sprang from her seat, scrambling over limbs and tray tables, eyes locked on the enemy. He stumbled back, fumbling under his robes. First came a cross, then a necklace of onions and garlic. He started hurling Arabic curses he didn’t understand.

The teachings of Gautama had always fallen deaf on her ears. But he came prepared with new tactics. The “beginner’s mind” and all. Priya bared her nails and prepared to lunge.

Their fateful encounter, however, was thwarted by a very large man who urgently needed to pee. They popped their heads around either side of him, spitting wild accusations at each other. The man looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Get away from me, stalker!” Priya yelped.

“Begone, demon!” Shen-Yun cried.

“You want some of this?!”

Eventually flight attendants shoved them back to their seats—conveniently on opposite sides of the same row.

Six planes. Six plane crashes. After one, maybe two, you just count yourself lucky to survive. But after a few? You start noticing patterns. And for Priya and Shen-Yun, that pattern was always each other.

The investigators always had no answers. They were quiet, suspiciously quiet. And so conspiracy theories were allowed to develop.

Priya was convinced that Shen-Yun was obsessed with her. Or maybe just a very persistent terrorist. Shen-Yun was certain Priya was a demon sent by Mara to block his path to enlightenment.

They were both only partially right. Priya glared at Shen-Yun with bloodlust. Shen-Yun peered back, eyes watering. But under the surface—just barely—their eyes held a glimmer of softness. For better or for worse, they were the most consistent forces in each other’s lives.

“I called ICE on you last week, you freak,” Priya beamed.

“I know,” Shen-Yun replied. “That why I had to take this flight.”

“Yeah? Well, you called an exorcist on me.”

“Because your soul still needs saving.”

The other passengers could only gaze in confused horror as Priya and Shen-Yun scrunched their faces at each other like mad children. Mercifully, the standoff ended when the flight attendants began their usual safety spiel.

Priya and Shen-Yun didn’t need those tips. “Put your mask on before helping others.” Oh, please. In six crashes, not a single person did anything else. “The emergency exits are located—” They knew. Oh, they knew.

They braced for the impact they knew was coming, already planning their next move. But as they stared out their respective windows, they each gave the same bright smile.