Page 6
“Yes, I will.” He leaves for his seat, beside the girl to which I had stalemated to multiple times. That was fast, I managed to send him back to his seat after addressing the lack of control over that girl. Is that what his problem is? No, that’s too trivial. Don’t even know whether or not he is her guardian. He came around apologising for her behaviour so he must be responsible for her. Maybe she is his granddaughter? If so, what of her parents? Why is she flying without her parents? Is he the only one looking after her? What is her business in coming to London? Is she just visiting family? She is definitely not from here. Why would she visit family on her own? How can she visit when she has no parents? Is she a celebrity? She is rich, she has a lot of accessories with her; but she is in economy class. Maybe she is spoilt? Yes, that matches the description. Except, that man seems very protective of that girl. Did something happen to her, was she exploited? Crap, I’ve lost it again. I can’t stop thinking. My lungs fill with air, purging the ludicrous thoughts in my head. I try to let it all out “Sigh”.
Gazing at the time, I watch the minutes tick by, thinking about what to do next. I reach up to the overhead carriage and snatch my bag. In it, is a book of medical science. Pages fly by as the craft continues its journey. The 777 lurches, and takes a dive into the clouds at a 5 degree descent. The twin turbo-fans power down and the whine outside the craft quietens. The seatbelt sign shines above the seats while the rest of the passengers awaken to the morning call. Some of the children on board start lifting the window covers and let the morning sun illuminate the cabin of warm orange and yellow. I sink back into my seat and continue reading about the carotid artery.
Page 7
The screech of the tires followed by the whine of the engines pulles the craft to a safe speed on the ground. Passengers start to move restlessly as they anticipate the seatbelt sign coming off. Ping. And they are off. Passengers scramble up to grab their luggage and race to the aisle. Well, better start moving. Turning around, I see the old man and the girl start to get their luggage as well. She just jumps around while the man stretches what’s left of his ligaments to reach their luggage. I walk over, past the other passengers, and reach for the girl’s suitcase. “Thank you, it does get a little tiresome handling her.”
“No problem. Say, where are you headed? Just curious. I’m headed over to Cambridge.” The craft continues it’s cumbersome taxi to the gate and catches a glimpse of another 737 taking off on the runway far off in the distance.
“We are also headed there, too. Perhaps we can make space for one more. You don’t have any relatives coming to pick you up, I suppose.”
“Right on, I’m on my own here, probably going to catch a bus service or something.” I wasn’t even surprised, he did give a vibe of a psychiatrist, so it would be usual for him to deduce that I am on my own. I have one bag with books and clothes in it. Unhealthy snacks that any parent would discourage. The craft has flown from the USA to England and yet I have brought with me things that would be considered as ‘long stay essentials’. It would make sense to deduct that I am on my own. He had his eye on me.
Page 8
“Would you like to come with us? We are going to Cambridge on our cessna.”
“Hold up, you have a cessna?” I knew they were rich but not that rich that they would have their own piston engined private aircraft.
“Yes, and we don’t mind having an extra boy on board.”
I reach up to the overhead carriage over my seat, snatch my bag and shove the book in my hand inside.
The gate trembles as it contacts the beast of a machine, sealing the front door behind the cockpit. Passengers become restless and the cabin crew start to make arrival preparations, all while the rain outside pours hell onto the human world. Damp air floods the craft and passengers start to flow out, a horde of men, women and children on their travels back home from the holiday season. Well, my journey isn’t over yet apparently. I follow the line of passengers down the aisle of the craft and thank the crew cabin on the way out for the flight. Almost all passengers head for the baggage reclaim area but not me. I still have got places to go.Looking over my shoulder, the old man and the girl are trailing behind me to the departures of Heathrow. I should probably let them lead. Strides turn to steps and soon, the girl takes the lead as if she lived in this airport her whole life. Skipping ahead and back, swaying left and right. I don’t even know when the last was when I felt like her. The slow rumble of air flowing through my mask eliminates the useless thoughts. The metallic taste in the air from the mask soothes all the things caged inside my skull. My gaze turns to the old man, who has been analysing my mask intently.
Page 9
“Don’t ask, it’s complicated”. My eyes dart around to locate the girl. What the. Where the heck did she go? My gaze falls onto the old man, his hands gesturing to an exit down a long corridor of gates.
“These are exits to the FBO. We can get on out there.” I follow in his wake outside, where flood lights, quite frankly, flood the tarmac in front. In the distance, the roars of turbo-fan engines and the occasional turbo-prop are but quiet bellows while the pistons inside the cessna explode kerosene, driving the propellers.
Once again, my body sinks into the seat, this time, a little bit more as the cessna taxis to the runway with permission to depart to Cambridge airport. The craft is small but it is still impressive to have an aircraft to use at leisure. I turn my head to the window and stare at the white fixed wings of the craft, admiring its strength to lift and hold the aircraft in the air. The pilot brings the cessna onto the runway and starts to power the engine. Looking back at the wings, they finish pulling out the flaps in aiding the take-off. Mumbles of the pilot speaking into the comms start invading my head. I shake it off, but it causes everything to spin around me faster than before.
Page 10
I take a deep breath and regain consciousness and focus, finding the girl’s eyes locked onto me from the seat on the other side. I am sitting on the back seat. The pilot is at front with Daniel, leaving the girl in my care. So, it’s like a 5-seat family car but it flies and I am in the back seat. She looks at me with great intensity. The corner of my eye is fixed on trying to detect any movement as I try to remain looking forward. But nothing, she keeps staring at me. The craft lunges into the air, pressing our bodies to our seats. A whimper almost escapes, but I manage to keep it in. Her eyes pierce my skull, maintaining her intensity of trying to drive me insane.
Screw this.
“What is it?”
“What?”
“You’re staring at me.”
“Is it wrong?”
“Not necessarily, but it usually means that either ‘You are weird’ or ‘I want to kill you’.”
“Oh, it’s nothing like that. It’s just, what is that?”
“It’s my mask.”
“What does it do?”
“Keeps me sane.”
“How does that work?”
“It just does, all right?”
“What do the small round things do?” Alright, I’m gonna lose it here.
“Keep it for later, you don’t want to annoy our guest before we even start.” My eyes dart back forward and find the old man looking back at us as if we are kids that have just got told off.
20,000 Words 