Flight or Fright: 17 Turbulent Tales by Stephen King, Bev Vincent (editors)
English | 2019 | Sci / Fi| ePUB | 2.6 Mb
Flight or Fright : #1 New York Times bestselling author and master of horror Stephen King teams up with Bev Vincent of Cemetary Dance to present a terrifying collection of sixteen short stories (and one poem) that tap into one of King’s greatest fears—air travel—featuring brand-new stories by King and Joe Hill, “an expertly compiled collection of tales that entertain and scare” (Booklist).
Stephen King hates to fly, and he and co-editor Bev Vincent would like to share their fear of flying with you.
Welcome to Flight or Fright, an anthology about all the things that can go horribly wrong when you’re suspended six miles in the air, hurtling through space at more than 500 mph, and sealed up in a metal tube (like—gulp!—a coffin) with hundreds of strangers. Here are all the ways your trip into the friendly skies can turn into a nightmare, including some we’ll bet you’ve never thought of before… but now you will the next time you walk down the jetway and place your fate in the hands of a total stranger.
Featuring brand-new “standouts” (Publishers Weekly) by Joe Hill and Stephen King, as well as fourteen classic tales and one poem from the likes of Richard Matheson, Ray Bradbury, Roald Dahl, Dan Simmons, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and many others, Flight or Fright is, as King says, “ideal airplane reading, especially on stormy descents…Even if you are safe on the ground, you might want to buckle up nice and tight.”
Each story is introduced by Stephen King and all will have you thinking twice about how you want to reach your final destination.
“Interruption was something you grew accustomed to as a Loadmaster. The C-141 StarLifter was the largest freighter and troop carrier in the Military Air Command, capable of carrying seventy thousand pounds of cargo or two hundred battle-ready troops and flying them anywhere in the world. Half as long as a football field, the high-set, swept-back wings drooped bat-like over the tarmac. With an upswept T-tail, petal-doors, and a built-in cargo ramp, the StarLifter was unmatched when it came to moving cargo. Part stewardess and part moving man, my job as a Loadmaster was to pack it as tight and as safe as possible.
With everything onboard and my weight and balance sheets complete, the same airman found me cussing up the Panamanian ground crew for leaving a scuffmark on the airframe.
“Sergeant Davis! Change in plans,” he yelled over the whine of the forklift. He handed me another manifest.
“New passengers. Med crew is staying here.” He said something unintelligible about a change of mission.
“Who are these people?”
Again, I strained to hear him. Or maybe I heard him fine and with the sinking in my gut, I wanted him to repeat it. I wanted to hear him wrong.
“Graves registration,” he cried.
That’s what I’d thought he’d said.”