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Near the base of the Statue of Liberty a small crowd gathered around a dazed Cathy Holcomb, airline pilot, where she sat on a park bench, gathering her wits. It was taking her a while for it all to sink in! She was alive! She expected to be dead by now like the others: her passengers and crew, all dead! The crushing reality of their death lay full upon her.
"What was he like?" asked the woman that sat next to her. "That was the real Mystery Man that brought you here, wasn't it?"
"I recorded the whole thing on my smart phone," said a man in the crowd. "I sent it to news people and it's on the internet already. He flew down here holding you just like he was Super Man; we all saw it! Then he simply disappeared."
"Who are you, lady? Did Mystery Man save you from something? What happened?" asked a teenager.
"I'm Cathy Holcomb, 747 pilot," Cathy finally answered. "The Witch killed everyone on my flight except me. Then a teenager in armor suddenly appeared and somehow took me away. He saved my life for sure. Then I was here. At least that's how I remember it happened."
"There's a report of an airliner crashing into the ocean only a few miles from here a few minutes ago," said someone.
"You were very lucky," said someone, over the sound of a helicopter landing somewhere nearby.
"Yeah," said Cathy. "Right! Very lucky. That must be it." She pulled a tissue from a pocket and wiped the tears from her eyes. Her airplane, friends, and passengers, all of them her responsibility, were all dead. Lucky?
"Did Mystery Man say anything to you?" she was asked by a man wearing some sort of police uniform.
"Yes; something mysterious. He said that hopefully here I would be safe from what was to come."
"What did he mean by that?"
Cathy shrugged. "I was actually going to ask him but then he disappeared."
"Is that your blood on your clothes? Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm OK. Can I use somebody's phone to call my husband? And where am I, by the way?"
"You are appropriately at the Statue of Liberty in New York City harbor, young lady," said a tall distinguished looking older man. He was flanked by a half-dozen men carrying guns, some in suits like the old man and some in military uniform. "My name is Henry Cross. I have a few brief questions and then we'll get you home."