Part I - The Strangers

The shopping cart shook from the unbalanced wheel. Shing, shing, shing. Sharon looked down and sighed. "I always get stuck with the broken ones," she thought to herself. Then looked up again to check what was next on her list.

"Butter. Right. Butter." She took a Land O' Lakes salted with four sticks from the shelf. The Indian on the box looked back at her. It somehow comforted her getting the butter she grew up on. She then headed for the cereal aisle.

"I told you not to touch anything. Now look what you gone and done, boy!" the mother said in a disappointed but gentle way. The little boy's big brown eyes grew wide as he watched all the Lucky Charms scatter out on the floor. He nervously scratched his afro and looked up at his mother to see her reaction. She just turned her head and called for the store clerk down the next aisle.

While his Mom wasn't looking, the four-year old stooped down and picked up a pink marshmallow clover and stuck it in his mouth. Sharon smiled to herself then smiled at the boy; rolled her cart passed the mother and son and got to the spot where the Raisin Bran was standing on the shelf.

In a minute a stock boy came around the corner with a dustpan. He leaned down to the pile of moons, stars and four-leaf clovers and said with the best Irish accent he could muster, "They're magically delicious!"

The little boy giggled and Ralph just looked up at the mother from the floor and said. "Don't worry ma'am. No harm done." With that the mother's frown turned into a smile. She gently pulled onto her son's hand.

"Okay now Theo, tell the man that you're sorry that you spilled the cereal on the floor. "I'm sorry," Theo said as he swayed his hips left and right and held his finger in his mouth. Then he whispered to his Mom, "Can we get some Lucky Charms?"

"Oh, alright," she said, "but you are NOT to open them up until tomorrow morning!"

"Okay. Okay," Theo answered excitedly.

It was exactly those kinds of public displays of family life and interaction with complete and total strangers that Sharon missed so much since she had been living in Switzerland. In Switzerland, families seemed to keep to themselves. A glipse into a stranger's personal life there was quite a rare phenomenon. So rather than consider the boy's behavior as shameful or judge it as "inappropriate behavior", which a Swiss might do, Sharon actually cherished the scene as a gift of openess and freedom to share.

Sharon approached the cashier counter marked 14 items or less. The items beeped through and a 16-year-old boy began to bag her food into a recyclable plastic bag.

"14.33 please," Tamara said, turning to her customer. "Thanks and have a nice day." Tamara smiled and gave Sharon her change. George handed her the plastic bag and she was on her way.

Sharon was on vacation visiting her family and friends and to get a little Americanized again. She put the cart back and carried her plastic bag back to her rental car. It was about 5:30 and the sun was just beginning to set. The air was cool and she began to drive down the quiet country road. The sun danced between the trees and illuminated the crimson and golden maple tree leaves. "Home," she said to herself. "I'm home."

About the same time, 4, 000 miles away, it was 11:30 at night in Switzerland. Beat had just returned from Luxor, Egypt on a business trip. Tired from the 4-hour plane ride, Beat was doing what he loved best - sleeping.

At about 9:30 the next morning he awoke and went straight to the fridge. Of course it was empty. What was he thinking? Beat always makes sure that he never comes back home to something rotting in the fridge. He always eats everything within 3 days of purchase, trip or no trip. So in other words, there was nothing to eat. He'd have to go shopping.

Beat showered, shaved, wiped down the hairs that gathered in the shower drain and dried himself off with his towel. He brushed his teeth, rinsed the sink and wiped it down with a sponge to make it nice and shiny. "Home. I'm home," he thought. He never really liked travelling that much. Egypt was dirty, slow and people just seemed like they couldn't be trusted.

"I should take care of my plastic and glass bottles today," Beat thought to himself. He opened his closet where he had already sorted his green glass bottles in one bag, his clear glass bottles in another and his plastic bottles in a third.

The hallway always had such a disinfected, clean smell and the floors were white and clean. He made sure that his footsteps wouldn't wake up his neighbors. Beat walked softly on the balls of his feet down the two flights of stairs.

He passed a neighbor doing her wash. "Morge" they said to each other in Swiss German and he went quickly to his car. "The less contact with his neighbors the better," Beat thought. "Especially that one. You never know what those "housefraus" will start bothering you about if you stop to talk."

Only two minutes away, Beat reached Migros, the local supermarket. He parked his car outside, paid for the parking and took the bottles to the large, green recycling bins. Kling, klang, crash! The bottles slid through the corresponding rubber-protected holes - one hole for the green bottles and one hole for the white ones. Beat liked hearing the bottles break when they hit the other bottles just the right way.

Beat then folded up the paper bags, put them back in his car and proceeded to enter Migros. He had the one clean paper bag he took for his food shopping and the other one that was filled with plastic bottles to return to the store.

As he entered Migros and saw all the beautiful flowers by the flower counter, Beat smiled to himself and smiled at the flowers. "I'm home" he thought again. "I'm home".

It was then 7:30 in the morning in Luxor. Mohammed got up from the homemade blanket that covered the hard dirt floor that he called his bed. He loved that blanket. His mother had made it for him when he was just 13 years old and he grew to appreciate it more and more as he grew older. Mohammed finished his morning prayers, went back into the bedroom and kissed his little sister on the forehead who was still sleeping.

He headed for the bazaar to say hello to his friends and to get some eggs for his sisters from the neighbor next door. Ahmed, Khaled and Abdel were the first to greet him as he made way to the bazaar. Khaled told about how he had sold 20 papyrus pictures to one tourist for 350 pounds the equivalent of 100 dollars! Little did the tourist know, he could have gotten them for only 20 dollars.

Mohammed shook his head but smiled at Khaled. He knew this was good fortune for his friend. Khaled hadn't sold much of anything the past month. With the 350 pounds he just made, he could last another two months without selling a thing! Allah is good.

Mohammed went from stand to stand visiting his friends. Stopping to take a tea and then later for a smoke. At about 12:30, he started to head back home. It was his day off but he couldn't help thinking about the people he had met in the past week. Mohammed was a taxi driver and met people from all over the world. He could speak about five languages besides his own. French, German, English, Italian, even a little bit of Spanish.

Last week he had met a Swiss guy named Beat and no matter how much he tried, Mohammed couldn't seem to get the guy to talk to him. Beat just ordered him to and from his hotel. He gave him a big tip at the end but something about Beat bothered him. His face. Yes, it was in his face. Beat seemed so empty and alone. Well-dressed, good-looking, but somehow empty and alone. Maybe he did not know how to pray, Mohammed thought.

He walked into the kitchen and saw his 6 sisters talking and laughing and being busy around the fire. Home he said to himself. Why would I want to be anywhere else but home?

Part 2 - Their Dreams

Mohammed then looked up and saw the yellowing calendar hanging up on the wall. It was a gift he received from an American tourist about 3 years ago. Even though it was old, he liked to keep it on his wall to look at the pictures of the different foreign-looking landscapes each month. The calendar had postcard pictures of Europe not the US. The American lived in Switzerland and had given the calendar to him as a thank you gift. She was special. At the time, his French or English wasn't as good as it was today...but they managed to exchange enough "Ca va's?" back and forth that they felt quite comfortable with each other.

As he stared at the calendar, the Swiss Alps in the beautiful month of October stared back at him. A deep desire arose from his stomach. "I want to see that," Mohammed thought. Yes, that was his ache, his dream. He wanted to see these foreign lands himself not only meet the people from them. He would never, of course, live anywhere but his homeland. But still, he had the urge to travel.

He rushed quickly to a box he kept near his bed. In it, he had all souvenirs and memories and things he wanted to keep from over the years. But lying right on top, was the ticket. He thought it had been a joke at first - some kind of token gift. But it was an actual plane ticket with his name written on it. And not just any old plane ticket. It was a business class plane ticket to Paris!

About 6 months earlier, Mohammed had quite a stroke of fate. Khaled, Mohammed's friend who ran the papyrus stand at the bazaar, also was a limousine chauffeur and needed Mohammed to do him a favor. It was Mohammed's first day substituting as a limousine chauffeur for Khaled when Mr. Sharif Khaziz got into the back seat.

Mr. Khaziz's flight from Luxor to Cairo had been cancelled. The Egyptian businessman was desperate to leave right away. Mohammed's limousine was what would save him from getting stranded in Luxor.

During the very long journey together, they had talked about so many things. Their families, Egypt, and travelling. They grew quite fond of each other. When it was time for Mohammed to drop him off at the Cairo airport, Mr. Khaziz asked him to wait another 15 minutes. When he came back, the businessman handed him the limousine fare and the plane ticket.

"Don't worry about the travel visa. I will arrange everything. You are a wonderful person. Thank you, Mohammed." And with that Mr. Khaziz was off.

Mr. Khaziz was a man of his word. On Monday, Mohammed would go to the French embassy to finalize his visa papers for his trip next week. Mohammed grew nervous with excitement and put the ticket back into the box.

As luck would have it, he could go with his not-so-honest friend, Khaled. Khaled had connections with some French diplomats through his limousine job and somehow got himself a ticket and visa, too.

The air smelled of wonderful spices. Mohammed was drawn out of his reverie and went back to see if his sisters needed any help.

After eating his breakfast, Beat got ready to go to the gym. He went to the gym on Sundays, played football - or soccer as the Americans call it, whenever he got the chance. Rollerblading, skiing, tennis, running. Just about everything he could manage.

When he was a young boy he dreamt of becoming a big track star at school. He would dream of entering the Olympics and proving to all his friends that he really was a great athlete. As the years went by, Beat hid that dream deep away and became more of a sports watcher than a sports doer. He put on weight and many people teased him because of it.

Next year he would be 30 and there was no way he wanted to feel older than he already did! So off to the gym he went. It made him feel exhilarated and energized. He had lost 5 kilos in the past 9 months. He was doing well.

On Monday, Beat went back to work. He walked into his office and turned on his computer to check his many e-mails. As he read through them one by one, he saw already messages from his clients both in Paris and again from Luxor. "Now what do they want? I was just there," he thought.

He double clicked on the Luxor e-mail; the news was quite unexpected. The manager of the Bank of Egypt whom he just settled the contract with passed away. He was being invited back for the funeral and to rediscuss the contract. Well, he was not going to the funeral. That was for sure. But the contract? My God, that wasn't easy. He probably would have to go back again and meet with the assistant manager to work something out.

Bank Nationale de Paris also had an urgent request. Well, let's take care of both of them at the same time, he thought. I'll set up a meeting for Paris and then Luxor back to back he decided. "Oh boy, what a welcome back," he grumbled.

Sharon was finishing up her two-week visit back home. She started to get excited for the next part of her trip.

Before Sharon would go back home to Zurich, she would spend one more week off in Egypt. She had already gone about three years ago to Luxor and loved every minute of it. For Sharon, the people fascinated her actually more than the historic sites. Her taxi driver who brought her everywhere was so sweet, innocent and with a simple charm - without pretense.

Egypt may be known for their pyramids, tombs, and mummies, but for Sharon, it was the people that were magical. The news of the tourist attack in Luxor six months ago had shocked and saddened her. It had not been the first time someone else's tragedy had touched her and she guessed it wouldn't be the last.

"Bye Mom! Thanks for the ride. I'll be back in the summertime!" Sharon grabbed her suitcase and stepped out of her mother's van.

"Okay! Luv you," her Mom said with a smile and gave her a big hug. She was proud of her independent, adventurous daughter.

Sharon was several hours early. So after she checked in, she found an empty chair and plunked herself down. She opened up her large purse and took out a pen and notepad. Sharon was secretly keeping a diary for the first time in her life. She dreamt of becoming a writer some day.

When she was younger, she had tried singing but lost her confidence and just gave it all up and swore she would never try again. Just not enough talent. And it was such a fiercely competitive world out there. Writing seemed a way for her to become creative again without having to go through those horrible feelings of incompetence she had. When you sing, you can fail right in public. At least with writing, it seemed more anonymous. "Who would know who she was? And in any case, just getting published would seem like a triumph to her", Sharon thought.

Sharon got onto her flight from Boston to Paris. She was lucky and got a window seat. After dinner, she looked out of her window and her mind began to wander.

"You're going to be fine but I must give you some difficult news. Because of the hemorrhaging, we had to perform a hysterectomy. It was the only way to save your life. This means, unfortunately though, that you will not be able to have children." Those words echoes in Sharon's brain over and over again. Every time she thought back to the car accident - only those words played over and over again in her mind.

Just turning 35, she looked for another way to spend the rest of her life. She had always hoped to become a mother. Children always were such a source of joy in her life. Sharon turned to writing to help her get out of depression. So far, it seemed to work like a charm. But for some reason on the plane, she just couldn't get herself in the mood to write a thing. The flight was so smooth she just closed her eyes and fell asleep. When she woke up, they were only 10 minutes away from landing at Charles de Gaulle airport.

Part 3 - The Encounter

"Le vol Air France 945, destination au Caire est prêt pour l'embarquement. Les passengers de classe affaires sont prier de se presenter à la sortie 25...Air France flight 945 to Cairo is ready for boarding. Business class passengers are kindly requested to board at gate 25."

"Well, that's my flight," Sharon whispered to herself and began to hurry to the gate.

Sharon worked for the airlines so she was flying on a standby ticket. She only had to pay about 200 dollars for a standby ticket and had a good chance to get upgraded to business class and sometimes even first class. Working for an airline was great!

Sharon approached the counter and looked around. Chances looked good. There were many people waiting for the flight and the economy class passengers were already boarding.

"Est-ce que vous avez encore une place. Je suis stand-by?"

"Yes, we do. In business class. May I have your ticket, please?"

Sharon was out of practice speaking French. She moved to the German-speaking part of Switzerland five years ago so she didn't have much chance to use her French any more. So it was easy to tell that her mother tongue was English when she pronounced her words. It felt a bit insulting but she didn't have time to take it personal. She was going to make the flight to Cairo and get to fly business class. Great!

Sharon hurried to the plane. In her haste, she bumped into a young businessman ahead of her. "Gott fur damit's ihr" she heard him mumbled under his breath. Oh no...not a Swiss German. I just better not be sitting next to him on the flight, Sharon thought to herself. But she was not going to let him know that she understood the swear he had just uttered.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Excuse me."

Beat turned around and just said, "It's okay."

Beat had just finished meeting with the Banque Nationale de Paris client and felt very good about the deal he had just made. He should be getting a good commission on the attractive partnership plan. But going to Cairo had put him in a bad mood. He really didn't feel like going back there again. "What chaos that place was. Well, it would all be over soon. At least this time he was booked in a hotel that had a fitness center," Beat thought. He could go for a quick work out tonight. His meeting wasn't until the next morning.

The Air France flight attendant taking care of the left side of the business class section had long thin brown hair that she pulled back into a stylish ponytail. Her face had very small features. Her skin looked soft and as fresh as a baby's cheeks. Her lips were large and voluptuous. She had such a classic French look. Even with the Air France uniform on, she looked as if she should be walking down the catwalk showing the latest Parisian design. Her nametag read Céline Dupont.

"Bonjour".

"Bonjour," Beat answered back.

"Votre jacket, monsieur?"

"Oui, merci". That made Beat feel good. Céline had a very sexy smile and her brown eyes just seemed to beg for him. "This will be a nice flight, " thought Beat.

"Quel est le numéro de votre siege, monsieur? "

"11J". Beat had an aisle seat on the left side of the plane by the emergency exit. Not good for watching the movie but great for leg room.

"Great", Sharon said to herself almost out loud, "I have 11K, the window seat right next to him. Maybe I will just write in my diary during the flight. I'm sure he's the type that doesn't talk anyway."

As Sharon followed Beat down the aisle, she noticed two Arab men sitting in the seats 12J and K. One of them, the one by the window, looked strangely familiar but she didn't know how she could possibly know him.

Mohammed and Khaled had had a wonderful time in Paris. They had walked up and down the Champs Elysees. They met up with their friend married to a French woman and they were able to show them all around. They went to discos and drank real fine French wine and went up the Eiffel Tower. It was just wonderful. The friends were happy that they could share the time together. Mohammed got to sit in the window seat while Khaled took the aisle seat.

"Arabs, great, "Beat said to himself. "I'm going to see enough of them when I get there. These two behind me better have taken a shower. Those guys can really stink up a plane if you're not lucky."

Mohammed couldn't believe his eyes when he saw both Beat and Sharon come down the aisle. Could it be? First that sad-looking man Beat, who he had driven in his own taxi just a couple of weeks ago! He was sitting on the same flight as the classy Swiss German man that he just met only weeks ago.

And if he wasn't having an illusion, he could swear that the woman following Beat down the aisle was his own calendar girl. The one that gave him the calendar over 3 years ago. He had asked for a picture she had taken of them both in a letter and kept it still in his wallet. He looked into his wallet and sure enough, the American had aged a little bit but it was her. It was definitely her! He could hardly control his excitement. He leaned over to tell Khaled the incredible coincidence. Once the pretty American had a chance to sit down, he would try his luck to see if she remembered him.

Beat put his attaché case in the overhead compartment and was just beginning to sit down when Sharon sat down in the window seat next to him.

"There was that American woman again", thought Beat. "But oh, she's kind of cute." He noticed she was wearing a dress that cut up the side of her leg. Nice legs, he thought to himself. Yes, this flight won't be so bad after all.

All passengers locked themselves into their seat belts, the flight attendants took the head count and then sat into their straight back seats facing both Sharon and Beat.

"This is your pilot, François LeBlanc. Welcome on board Air France flight 945. Unfortunately, we will be experiencing a 30 to 40 minute delay until take off. "

Several passengers gave a heavy sigh. This was typical for the Charles de Gaulle airport. Many times, Beat had been stuck up to two hours just waiting for a flight to take off or even worse, circling to land.

Well, Mohammed felt like it was a perfect opportunity to lean forward and re-introduce himself to his two former taxi customers. He tried first with the American calendar girl. He pulled a picture of Sharon and himself from his wallet.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Ca va? It's me, Mohammed. Do you remember me? Luxor? Ca va?"

Sharon turned around at the familiar face who was holding her picture in his hand. Somehow this felt so surreal.

"How...how..Oh my. Oh my! How are you? Yes I know you, Mohammed, right? Isn't that something?" Mohammed, Khaled and Sharon were beaming at each other. What an amazing coincidence!

"I still have calendar...and picture, " Mohammed smiled sheepishly and blushed a little as he looked at Sharon.

"Would you like to change seats?" Khaled asked Sharon. "If that's alright with you, sir," Khaled offered to Beat.

Beat couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. He wouldn't have the woman's legs to peek at during the trip. But with no real reason to deny the request, Beat just quietly nodded and said "Oh we're not together."

Because Sharon and Beat were on the emergency exit seats, it made it quite easy for Sharon and Khaled to exchange seats. Beat didn't even have to make a move.

"And sir, I think I know you, too, " Mohammed said to Beat.

"Yes. You're the taxi driver in Luxor, aren't you?" Beat declared.

"Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I am. I have free ticket to Paris. Paris is magnifique!"

"Well welcome aboard," Beat tried to say politely to Mohammed and then nodded to Khaled who was now sitting next to him instead of Sharon.

Khaled then started talking to Beat about Paris and the women he met there in very simple English. Surprisingly, he made Beat laugh when he told him how a French woman slapped him across the face. Khaled was a good storyteller and Beat seemed to enjoy his company.

Mohammed and Sharon were also hitting it off quite well, remembering back to their memories they had of their first encounter.

"Two minutes 'til take off," the captain announced. The engines grew louder and the airbus picked up speed. Mohammed looked excitedly out of the window. "This is my favorite part," he said to her. "Mine, too," she said. She counted backwards to herself. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 blast off. The plane lost contact with the ground exactly in sync with Sharon's countdown.

The perfect-looking air hostess, Céline, came to ask for drink orders. Both Khaled and Beat tried to give her their sexiest looks possible. Mohammed, however, was in a trance with his sweet Sharon and didn't even bother to order.

"No. No. I said vodka. Vodka," the man sitting across the aisle from Sharon shouted in a mean voice.

Beat turned his head to see who was being so rude to his beautiful Céline. "Well, of course. Who does that Arab fuck think he is? They shouldn't have even let him on the plane. He looks like he's going to cause trouble during the whole flight," were the thoughts going through Beat's mind, though he would never dare say them aloud.

All of a sudden, the Arab slammed the drink out of Céline's hand, got up and grabbed Céline by her hair. The man yelled something in some Arabic dialect. "Don't move. Anyone or I will shoot her AND you. This plane is our plane now."

Sharon gripped onto Mohammed's arm. Khaled's funny stories and jokes were suddenly cut short.

"Could this be happening? "Beat asked himself. He always wondered how he would react in such a situation. Not fear but anger overcame him as he stared at the Arab terrorist squeezing Céline's arm.

Just then 4 gunshots were fired from the economy class cabin. Two masked men burst through to the business class cabin. The one on the far side, dragging a dead man's body and the other with his arm wrapped around a flight attendant's neck. He stuck his gun to her side.

"Move. Move. Move," he yelled.

Then, before anyone could do anything, the three terrorists pushed the flight attendants to the front of the plane by the cockpit. The man, who had Céline, pulled at her hair and told her to open the cockpit door. Céline stayed calm and did what she was told.

Once the terrorists were out of sight, Beat turned to Khaled and just glared at him - as if it were all his fault. As if Khaled could read his mind, he said to Beat. "We're not all like that you know. Don't worry. I will help you if I can."

The plane then swooped up and then down. What the hell was happening up in the cockpit?

Two more gunshots rang out. Smoke from the economy class cabin started making way into the business class section. One of the shots aimed at the now dead man must have missed and hit some wiring under the floor.

Everything happened so fast. Panic spread throughout the plane. Babies crying. Adults crying. "We're going to die! We're going to die!" a woman screamed in tears.

Sharon knew that the emergency exit was their best chance for survival. Even though she was now one row behind the emergency exit, after trading seats with Khaled, she was glad that it wouldn't be her stuck with the task in trying to open the door. Sharon leaned over and whispered to Beat and Khaled. "Please don't forget us when you open that door!"

No one knew what had become of the terrorists - or the pilots and flight attendants for that matter. A cold silence suddenly fell throughout the plane. A very haunting cold silence.

Khaled started to say his prayers quietly to himself. Mohammed heard him and joined in a little louder. Then a family sitting nearby began saying the "Our Father". Sharon's lips followed along.

Beat stared straight at the emergency exit to his left.

Two more gunshots were heard coming from the cockpit. Was it the pilots or the terrorists? No one knew and no one dared to go and find out. Such helplessness!

The plane then made a second long swoop down. The nose was diving down. Outside of the window, one could see the coast of Spain getting closer and closer. Would they hit water or land?

Suitcases and carry-on luggage started falling from the compartments that were forced open. The prayers grew louder and clearer. But Beat did not have anyone to pray to. He just kept staring at the emergency exit, reading the directions.

On the movie screen, the altitude was dropping fast, from 10,000 feet down to 5,000 feet in just 5 minutes. Was it five minutes? All conception of time was now frozen. 5 minutes felt like 5 seconds and 5 seconds felt like 5 minutes.

Then suddenly, the plane seemed to steady out. "Someone must be at the controls. Maybe everything will be okay. Maybe we will survive this horror," the passengers hoped.

The plane certainly had straightened out. It, however, seemed to be going too fast. Too fast to land. "Oh God what will happen?" Beat continued to stare at the door, his hands gripping the arms of his chair.

Khaled looked at Beat and said, "Allah will take care of us whether we live or die you know?" Somehow his words haunted Beat.

But Beat just said, "I don't know about your Allah but I know I'm definitely going to try to save myself and anyone else I can."

Khaled then smiled and said, "Then that is why Allah has put you on this plane. Thank you Beat. Thank you Allah."

At that moment, the plane hit the water. It was as if it was skating on the surface of the ocean. The plane got caught in a whirlwind and circled round and around. And then finally stopped. The emergency exit by Khaled and Beat was slanted upwards.

Beat quickly took off his seatbelt and rushed to the door. The door was stuck. Push. Push. Push. Yes, he was strong enough to loosen the door. He heard a clicking sound and then one, two, three. Beat pushed with all his might against the handle that kept the vacuum-tight door locked. It was open.

"Please do not panic. One by one. One by one." People were pushing in shoving. Beat tried to keep things calm. But when he turned to get Sharon and Mohammed, he saw that Mohammed hadn't made it.

"Mohammed. Mohammed," Sharon gently shook him. Sharon's eyes welled up with tears. "No God, please no God. Not him. Not him," Sharon cried. Khaled put his hand on her shoulder and then hugged his friend goodbye and whispered something soft into Mohammed's ear. Khaled then stood up and got his composure. "He is with Allah. Let us go now. There's no time. Please, Mr. Beat opened the door. The door is open now. Let's go."

Sharon was trembling from head to toe but somehow was able to finally stand up. Then, as if remembering something, she leaned over and kissed Mohammed on his forehead and took the picture of the two of them that had fallen on Mohammed's lap.

But when Khaled and Sharon made it to the door, Khaled turned to Sharon. "You go. I can't swim."

Seeing that someone actually needed her help, Sharon suddenly snapped out of her own feeling of helplessness.

"No, we both go. I CAN swim. Put on my life vest and don't let go of me. One, two, three, jump." And they jumped into the water.

So Sharon and Khaled were out of the plane. Beat stayed by the door, keeping the people calm and orderly. "It's okay ma'am. Just go ahead." Then to a little boy. "It's just like jumping into a pool."

There were so many others that didn't make it besides Mohammed. They had died on impact. Beat looked at them and felt helpless, too. "It's too late," Céline came up behind him and whispered in his ear. "We are the last ones. Go ahead. It's time for you to save yourself. " With that, Beat turned around and stared into Céline's eyes. How did she escape those horrible terrorists?

"Well, then, you're coming with me," Beat said to her. With that, Beat took a hold of her hand and they both jumped into the cold Atlantic waters.

They were lucky. The plane was only about 200 yards from shore. Beat could see in the distance that Sharon and Khaled had just reached the beach and were dragging themselves along the sand. There must have been at least 30 people making their way to safety.

Yes, they were alive.

Part 3 - The Outcome

The next morning the papers' headlines from around the world read "WORST HIGHJACKING EVER IN HISTORY,""AF495 CRASH AND THE 33 MIRACULOUS SURVIVORS," "FRENCH STEWARDESS AND SWISS PASSENGER HEROS IN AF 495 CRASH".

After the terrorists had managed to force their way into the cockpit and killed both the pilot and co-pilot, the terrorists then turned their guns on themselves. It was Céline that managed to straighten the plane out for the landing and of course, Beat who had opened the emergency exit.

But of course, not all had survived. Mohammed's death weighed heavy on Sharon's mind. The only thing that she thought would keep her sane was to write it all down.

Three years later, Sharon published her first book called "Some Dreams that Shouldn't Come True". A European editor got a hold of a copy and contacted her to offer to publish it in French and German. Her book even became available in Switzerland where she lived.

One day, as she was signing books for her fans at the bookstore in Zurich, a man and woman came up to ask for her autograph. "Excuse me. Was this story based on the plane crash a few years ago?" She looked up and it was Beat and Céline. Beat's arm was around Céline and they looked genuinely happy.

"Oh, hello. How are you? I haven't seen you since that horrible day. You look good. Yes, it is. This book has saved me from losing my mind."

"We're sorry about your friend," Céline said sympathetically. Beat turned to his wife and said. "Oh Céline, that was not her friend, that was a stranger."

With that, Sharon's smile turned cold. "No, I would have to agree with your wife," seeing their matching wedding rings. "A stranger is someone you don't know and maybe even a bit afraid of. I didn't know Mohammed very well that's true. But in my heart, he was a friend and I was never once afraid of him."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you," Beat said realizing his mistake.

"If you'd like, why don't you come over to our place for dinner some time. We're having a barbecue next week and we would love to invite you," Céline said gently.

Sharon looked up at them. They were the ones that saved her life. But why did she feel that THEY were the strangers? What a mystery. "Oh, no thanks. And no harm done. It was good seeing you. Oh and...here is your book - I hope you like it."

"Oh thank you," Beat and Céline both said in unison and they turned to go.

When Beat and Céline walked out of the store, they opened the flap of the book and read.

"To Complete and Total Strangers who Saved My Life.

Thanks!

Sharon O'Neill"