"Relax, they're fine," Kingsley said. "Aside from being a little frightened, there's nothing wrong with their bodies. A few passengers inhaled too much and started vomiting; I already had them sent off for treatment."
Straw nodded. He had, of course, also seen that shuttle bus that left early, and the statements before and after matched up.
Of course, the main thing was still that genuine, cabinet-issued ID, which greatly boosted the credibility of every word Kingsley said.
The commander stopped asking questions. When Kingsley said he was going to take the criminals back for an emergency interrogation, he waved his hand for his subordinates to let them pass, and watched as this group of people sent by the Cabinet escorted the bandits onto a specially modified vehicle and drove off at high speed.
After that, police, doctors, and firefighters boarded the plane and carried down the passengers who were waking up one after another from their stupor.
On the stretchers, everyone's reactions were different—
"Weird, I feel like I fell asleep as soon as I got on the plane? I don't even remember the food cart going by…"
The man clutching his briefcase muttered in confusion to his phone, "But I haven't eaten in over a day, and yet I don't feel hungry…"
"I had a dream that felt so real!" Another potbellied boss grabbed the doctor's hand, gesturing as he spoke: "In the dream there was a flying Sinbad, glowing Giants, and a House-Elf that could repair airplanes…"
More passengers just looked completely out of it, dazed and unsteady on their feet. They seemed to vaguely remember something, but the concrete images were like reflections in water, turning blurry the moment they tried to think.
The only clear feeling in the depths of their hearts was the relief of—"We finally landed."
"I'm never flying again," a young guy muttered. "Planes are terrifying… I'm never flying again…"
Seeing how groggy they looked, with their memories in shambles, an experienced cop nudged the paramedic next to him with his elbow, jerked his chin at the passengers being carried down, and said:
"Look, you can tell they really OD'd…"
The doctor nodded in agreement. "From their pupils, their disorientation, and the anterograde amnesia… almost everyone's showing the aftereffects of inhaled anesthetics, but no one has any permanent damage…"
He said, puzzled yet impressed, "That dosage control was insanely precise—ten thousand times better than the anesthesiologists at our hospital!"
Commander Straw: "..."
He stood with his hands on his hips in front of the flashing police lights, his brows knotted together.
Looking at the passengers, all with different expressions, all staggering about, Straw smacked his lips, feeling that something was off—
Shackle's group had stayed on the plane far too long.
The scene before him was far too calm.
So calm it felt like the eye of a storm, with a trace of eerie wrongness.
He turned his head and jerked his chin at the subordinate beside him who was working on a laptop, saying:
"Go recheck the ID information of every single person for me. Don't miss a single one!"
"Yes, sir!" The subordinate hugged the laptop and ran off.
After a while, Straw waved another subordinate over.
"Cross-check the registration info and see which people were taken away by the shuttle bus because of 'physical discomfort'… Then call around the nearby hospitals, find out where those patients were sent and what their symptoms are."
"Yes, sir!" the subordinate answered, then hesitated and asked, "Boss, are you suspecting… there's more to this hijacking?"
Straw stroked his chin and said thoughtfully, not entirely sure, "Maybe… I just feel like…"
He hadn't finished speaking when the sky seemed to flash suddenly. Straw instinctively looked up—
"BOOM!!!"
A deafening crash of thunder exploded out of nowhere, as if it were right overhead! The massive shockwave seemed to make the ground tremble!
In that instant, even a tough guy like Straw, who was never afraid of thunderstorms, hunched his shoulders in fright, his heart jolting violently!
Next, an extremely blinding, twisted bolt of blue-white lightning suddenly ripped through the dark night sky. It tore open the heavens and, with unstoppable force, struck that quietly parked airliner with pinpoint accuracy!
"Bang—!"
With a terrifying blast, a dazzling fireball erupted where the lightning hit the fuselage, countless metal fragments and parts spraying in all directions!
"Aaaahhhh—!"
Screams instantly erupted across the airport. Passengers who'd been lying on stretchers leapt off them in a flash and bolted!
The shockwave, mixed with a blast of scorching heat, slammed into them, knocking those who were slightly closer staggering back, but still failing to catch up to that first wave of "weak" passengers who'd already fled.
And the plane that had just been hijacked and had only just managed a hard-won emergency landing was, before everyone's eyes, struck directly by a lightning bolt of terrifying power and engulfed in a sea of fire!
All color drained from the onlookers' faces, their minds wiped blank by the sheer might of nature!
"Papapapa—"
Torrential rain came crashing down.
Straw suddenly shuddered and roared himself hoarse:
"Watch out for electric shock! Get back! Everybody get back!"
He didn't care about his image, tumbling and scrambling along with his subordinates toward the terminal building, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and that plane, now a massive fireball.
The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning and the sharp tang of ozone, and their skin prickled with the static charge lingering in the air.
The rain at their feet splashed noisily as they ran; the thought that this water was conductive, combined with that unprecedented lightning strike just now, made them pump their arms and legs like mad, wishing they had two more legs to run on.
They retreated into the terminal in utter disarray, and, through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, everyone, still shaken to the core, saw a sight they would never forget as long as they lived—
The night sky looked as if some god had flown into a rage, bolts of lightning striking over and over, roaring with ear-splitting booms. Under the heavy black clouds, the world outside the window would suddenly blaze as bright as day.
The plane was now completely consumed by raging flames; the fireproof materials on the fuselage might as well have never existed, and even the pouring rain couldn't put the blaze out.
Sparks and burning debris kept shooting off the airframe, like a fireworks show themed around destruction—dazzlingly beautiful, yet indescribably cruel.
Everyone could only feel thankful that they'd run fast enough and decisively enough, or they too would have been buried along with the plane.
They were equally fortunate that, because of the hijacking, the airport had already cleared out a large area completely, so the rampaging fire and explosions hadn't spread elsewhere.
Staring at that hellish scene, people sighed one after another:
"God bless, we were so lucky! We just dodged a bullet!"
"Yeah! If… if Mr. Martin hadn't hijacked the plane, maybe the whole airport would've turned into a sea of fire by now!"
This warped but superficially self-consistent logic of gratitude spread through the crowd.
Only Straw kept his eyes locked on the scene outside, his fists clenched tight. There was no trace of relief on his face, only a profound, bottomless weight and suspicion.
As unreasonable as it sounded…
That terrifying lightning had waited until everyone had made it into the terminal before it struck, without injuring or killing a single person…
The thunderstorm was too coincidental, the destruction too precise. It made him suspect there had to be an invisible hand controlling everything from behind the scenes.
Just then, a subordinate walked over quickly and reported in a low voice:
"Some passengers… took off on their own during the chaos. I'm sorry, Boss—there's no way for us to compile a complete list now…"
"What about the nearby hospitals?" Straw asked.
"The hospitals…" the subordinate replied, puzzled. "None of the nearby hospitals received any patients…"
After hearing this, not a flicker of surprise crossed Straw's face.
He stared out the window in silence for a long time before finally grinding out a single sentence between his teeth:
"Got it."
That brief reply held a heavy mix of helplessness, anger, and a deep-seated dread toward some unseen presence lurking behind the curtain.
Straw knew that the truth of this incident would likely be buried forever in ashes and fog, just like those passengers who had vanished into the night.