Mason had stowed his gear without a word, his face settling into a look of grim relief as I passed his row.

The plane rolled past the long line of blue taxiway lights and swung its nose toward the southern runway.

The twin engines climbed from a low rumble to a high whine that I could feel in my rib cage.

We held short for thirty seconds while a cargo plane crossed the runway intersection.

Then the captain let off the brakes, and the full weight of the plane surged down the dark strip of asphalt.

The terminal lights smeared into long white streaks along the perimeter fence.