[ WP ] A secretly schizophrenic commercial airline pilot does n't take his anti-psychotics . The voices convince him to fly his packed Boeing 747 to the sun , so he does

Today will be a good day. It's a flight from LaGuardia to LAX, like any other. Weather is good, and it's my last flight before vacation starts. 
 
 My name is Captain Dustin Phillips, and I am a 20-year veteran of United Airlines. We fly to and from every airport, and I fly every airplane. There is n't one bird that I ca n't get into the head of and tell it what to do. 
 
 Speaking of getting into something's head, I need to take my medicine. I am bi-polar and schizophrenic. It's my darkest secret, and I would n't have a set of wings if anyone knew. I pay top dollar for a doctor to manage my illness and keep his mouth closed; and my wife is a pharmacist, so my medicinal needs are well met. I go into the bathroom, and that's when it hits me. I do n't have my medication. I search every pocket... nothing. 
 
 The thoughts that pass through my head at a mile a minute scare the living hell out of me. Imagine murdering a person and waiting for the police to arrest you, the guilt overwhelming you as you come to realize the brevity of what you've done. I am realizing the brevity of my mistake, and I ca n't believe how irresponsible I am. I am terrified of all the things that I think when I'm left to my natural devices. I am more than Captain Dustin Phillips... I am God. I am a being beyond reproach, judgmental and omniscient. I know all things, and I can easily justify doing just about anything, because I tell myself that it is the right thing. 
 
 I have to stop thinking about it. It should only be about 36 hours until I get home, which leaves 60 hours without it. I will be fine. I have to be. I prepare my uniform; I grab lunch and a cup of coffee. I go through my motions; routine is the basis for sanity, right? 
 
 I smile, and conceal the worry. It's impossible not to worry. I know what comes of this. 
 
 `` Hey man, how are you feeling?'' I turn and see my co-pilot. 
 
 `` Allen. I ’ m good. Really good. ” I give a smirk and we board the plane. 
 
 I know the moment I lost my sanity. I looked at the overweight man, the man who will have a hard time without his child pornography. The teenage lovers, who think that today, will be the day they join the Mile High Club. The soldier who kills for a living and the woman who is more worried about her makeup than consoling her son, who is quite obviously terrified. His faith is weak. There is a baby, an unholy screaming baby. I hate babies. 
 
 I have a seat in the cockpit, and start going through my checks. I've done this a million times before, so no need to be particular. I can do anything, right? 
 
 `` Are the passengers boarded?'' 
 
 `` Yes sir, are you ready for your walk around?'' 
 
 `` Sure.'' I walked around the plane, not really looking for anything. 
 
 We shifted the plane into gear, taxied on the runway and positioned ourselves for takeoff. 
 
 My phone rings. It's my wife. 
 
 `` Dustin, please tell me you're not flying. Please tell me you're taking off sick. Honey, please do n't do this.'' 
 
 `` I'm fine darling.'' 
 
 `` Dustin, you're not fine. Do n't you do this. Do n't you leave me.'' 
 
 `` I love you, I'll be home tomorrow, I promise.'' 
 
 `` No, you ca n't do this, you can'....'' 
 
 I hung up. The feeling I got from her tearful begging, her honestly scared voice, with shaking that I almost never here. She really has no faith in me. The Bible tells her... no, I told her, as every woman before her; trust and obey. Disobedient harlot. She should... no, she will pay; when the day comes that she finally meets me. 
 
 `` You'd think that by now she'd be done being scared. ” says my co-pilot. 
 
 `` Women. Sometimes I think she'd be better off medicated.'' The irony. 
 
 I get a text. It's my wife. 
 
 We begin takeoff, as I address the audience over the intercom. 
 
 `` Do n't get lost in heaven. I love you.'' 
 
 The radio squawks in the passenger cab. 
 
 `` I have seen your future, and it is a waste of humanity. Judgment day is nigh, and soon you shall all see the light. I am God, Yahweh, Allah... call me what you want, but I can take your lives as easy as I created them. No need to pray, simply yell through the cockpit door. Enjoy your last flight.'' 
 
 The co-pilot looks over in shock. The pilot simply smiles, as he reaches into his pocket to pull out the knife he kept with him, just in case he ever forgot his medication and needed to stop just such a disaster. His proverbial cyanide pill. The only problem is that crazy does n't have a gray area, either you are or you are n't. By the time you realize that you've lost it, you're not sane enough get it back. Not even for a second. 
 
 He stabs the co-pilot, who is much smaller than him, and he dies without as much as a struggle. 
 
 The plane gradually ascends, the screams of the damned barely pervading the cockpit door. The stewardesses scream and pound on the door. Air traffic control is going nuts, and I climb. 
 
 I climb and I climb and I climb. I can feel the sun enveloping me, and I can see the angels summoning me. I know what awaits and I am ready. The gates are open and I am cleared for landing. 
 
 I hear a sputter and the engines shut off. Gauges and lights go crazy and the plane goes nose down. What is happening? I thought I was destined for this, and then I fall. I fall and fall and fall towards the flames below. The devil is smiling, and it is at this moment that I realize that I was never God. I was never anything but what I am. I can see the news headlines now, and I ca n't recover. I'm stalled and burning. There is no way to save the plane or its passengers. I begin to pray. As we near the ground, I remember the text message I received from my wife. I open it. 
 
 `` Do n't get lost in heaven.'' 
 
 I text back, `` I love you, and I'm sorry.'' 
 
 I enter the lake of fire, never to be seen again. The souls screaming in pain and agony are enough, and I close my eyes.
