Thirty Five Lives on My Ticket

I had finally managed to carve out a few days of leave to visit my parents. We were sitting in the quiet warmth of their living room when the encrypted satellite phone in my pocket buzzed.

A single message flashed on the screen:

“Ticket booked. Depart immediately.”

My professional instincts kicked in, accompanied by a cold spike of dread. I didn't ask questions. Within minutes, I was in a cab rushing toward the airport.

I sprinted through the terminal, arriving at the boarding gate just as the final call was echoing through the PA system.

But a hand reached out, blocking my path.