[AZTarHeel]

Timmy Zarzour practically skipped down the ramp to his airplane, then gave the Boeing 767 a couple of taps for luck before walking in. He was so excited about his life and his experiences this summer that he wondered if he was literally glowing as he greeted the stewardess at the door.

"Hello!" he said with a giant smile. "What a great day!"

The 16-year-old Zarzour was headed for the coach section in the back, but he couldn't help but look around at the posh life in first class. It was here that his glowing mood suddenly turned black and ominous.

He noticed a man sitting erect in his seat, looking to be of Middle Eastern descent — Egyptian maybe? Saudi Arabian? He was dressed in typical Western business-casual clothes but Timmy felt that something just wasn't right.

Timmy locked eyes with the man, who appeared to be in his early 30's, and for a few seconds it was as if he could peer deep into his soul. What he saw was vacant, dark ... evil. Suddenly the plane felt very cramped and stuffy. Timmy couldn't breathe and felt a dark cloud overtake him. He thought he might fall down under its weight.

He had an inkling to turn around and run out of the plane and back into the airport teriminal, but Zarzour just stood in place for several seconds, trying to keep from tumbling over or even screaming out in terror. Finally, a persistent older lady nudged him from behind. "Are you going to go or what?" she barked. "Either move over or move on back."

Dazed, Timmy apologized and stumbled back to his seat near the back of the plane, put his bag in the overhead compartment and tried to ponder what had just happened. A few minutes ago he had been bursting with energy and enthusiasm. Now, he felt exhausted and sapped of energy. There was a deep sadness that enveloped him that he had never really experienced before.

Timmy couldn't get over the thought that something dreadful was going to happen and that man he had locked eyes with was going to be involved.

Maybe he should say something. He reached for the call button above his seat but then pulled back. No one else on the plane seemed the least bit agitated, except for maybe the older lady who had given Timmy the big bump from behind. Maybe he was just over-reacting. Yeah, that was it. He hadn't slept a whole lot on this trip, and that had to be catching up with him, right? And he had just downed three big cups of jet-black coffee in the airport Starbucks. Since he wasn't a coffee drinker naturally, maybe that had sent his senses on overdrive. Reading all those crime novels certainly didn't help his imagination either.

He picked up his Sports Illustrated and started thumbing through it, trying to relax. Maybe Rick Reilly's column in the back would do the trick. As he began the first paragraph, a loud radio crack from above made him jump.

"Good morning everyone, welcome aboard American Airlines Flight 11. This is the captain speaking. Thanks for flying with us this morning. We're going to push back from the gate here in about five minutes and be off for Los Angeles.

"We don't expect any problems today. The weather looks clear all the way to the West Coast. Sit back and enjoy your flight..."