4TH POST: Check the comments for 1-3. In (the dubious) honour of Ebola, I am going to publish my 3 Day novel contest entry of a few years ago, The Airport on Facebook. Please enjoy. This would be why I am following Ebola so carefully as I did a lot of research for this. The Airport is a modern take on the Holocaust... FYI if that is disturbing for you. Part 2 The first class lounge was a calming place, and Genia was on her second martini. Chantal Kreviazuk’s cover of Leaving on a Jet Plane was playing, and earlier it had been Bette Midler and Tom Waits singing something cute and jazzy. She swirled her drink around in her glass and let the languor fall over her, then drained it and put it on the table. The lounge was rather busy, filled with well heeled travelers like herself. There were no children for which she was profoundly glad. She didn’t think she could handle children at the moment. She was jangled from one end to the other; from both the stress and the medication. That reminded her; it was probably past time for her next dose. Joseph had emailed that three times would be best for the injections, and it was long past lunch time. Genia rose gracefully and gathered her belongings, leaving a tip on the table. A sign showed the way to the ladies and she was impressed to see how well appointed the facilities were. The stalls were quite large and there was plenty of room for her to do what she needed to do. One foot slipped out of a rather outrageous Fleuvog pump from the days before the war; favourites of Ellie’s, and snaked its way to the top of the toilet tank. With a careful hand she lifted her dress and long slip to the groin, exposing her stockings and garters, also a little present for Ellie, should he ever decide to make an appearance. Genia wanted to give him something to remember her by while she was gone, for she wasn’t sure how often she would be able to email him from Cuba. She deftly unclipped one garter and rolled down a corner to expose her upper thigh. The expanse of milky skin was pebbled with tiny red pin pricks, hence the garter belt. They could make love and she could keep her legs covered. Not that he ever seemed to mind anything about her body, but she minded and was hugely self-conscious about these red marks. Inside her cavernous purse were three vials of Leptin serum and a selection of small hypodermic flu syringes with short needles. She drew the serum into the needle and plunged it into the fat, just as he had taught her. It was over in seconds, but the feeling was always rather strange. She would be thrilled to give up this experimental drug of Ellie’s friend. What was she? A lab rat? Not bloody likely! Then she repaired her garter and let her skirt fall before filling out the Leptin diary they asked her to keep. What a collassal waste of time. The only thing the diary told her was that the more of the stuff she injected into her legs, the more broody she became. It certainly didn’t seem to be affecting her appetite, but what could she say? Ellie asked her; no, begged her to perservere with this. It was the least she could do for him. Finished, Genia left the stall and walked to the mirror. She washed her hands and applied some fresh lipstick. Bright red; also Ellie’s pick the last time he had been on leave. Her lips curled up shyly as she remembered him lying naked on her bed in a satisfied masculine sprawl watching her dress for their dinner date. His eyes had glowed with some unholy light as he studied her every movement, almost as if committing it to memory. Then he got up, completely unashamed of his nakedness and brushed her long hair, and picking the lipstick off the vanity. He had turned her to face him, painting it on her lips himself with an antique silver lip brush. Those hands of his were so deft in their movement. Doctors hands, fine boned and precise in their movements. She hadn’t been able to breathe. Genia closed her eyes and could almost feel his hands on her again. His leaves were so short. He was so busy with his work, but when he was with her, she had almost all of him- Except those times when that glint would appear in his eye and he would make a few notes in his binder with the Mont Blanc pen she gave him at his convocation. Once it had even happened as she lay in his arms, and he bid her lay on her stomach and sleep while he rested the binder on her back like a table. He’d been up for hours; working by candlight like some ancient monk at a scroll until at last he must have put it away and curled up beside her. They had taken a long drive up the coast in his father’s 2006 Mercedes Benz SL500 convertible, bought right before the bombs went off, blaring alternative thrash through the speakers the entire way and singing along at the top of their lungs. Later they made love on the sand at Wickaninnish beach in the dangerous pounding surf like in From Here to Eternity. He possessed her and made the world stop moving when she was with him. Then he had nakedly serenaded her with Unchained Melody, seemingly his new favourite song. Why had they waited so long? Why hadn’t he loved her in University? Perhaps he had, but didn’t learn how until the war came. Lord only knew how he thrashed her violent ex husband. Dimi had confided in her at his last leave how the three of them had run down Dale outside the university, and the boys had kept watch while Ellie reduced Dale to a heap on the ground. She had never known Ellie to have that kind of rage inside him, or even the capacity. Amusingly enough, she had never known. There wasn’t a mark on his hands or face to show he had been in a fight. Genia didn’t know Ellie had known how to fight. He’d almost seemed a tad poncy to her. Strangely, while Genia had been terrified of Dale, Ellie never scared her. How was it that she knew he would never hurt her? She trusted him implicitly with her person. Maybe that was why she acceptingly took this medicine of his friends. Ellie wouldn’t give it to her if he didn’t think it was safe. He was so careful with her person, and so gentle when he touched her. That ni aght when he had shown up her door step, his doctor’s bag at his side, had been a turning point in her life. His hands shook and his eyes blazed as he examined her. He’d asked her to remove her blouse, and she had with numbness in her soul. Her chest was a mass of bruises from that last fight and when he saw them, he inhaled so deeply his nostrils nearly pinched closed. Ellie picked her up in his arms and carried her out to the car and took her to the emergency room. No. Ellie wasn’t rotten. People just needed to understand how focused he was. How driven. He wasn’t like normal people. He was above them. They simply didn’t matter to him. He was, at thirty-five, a great man. Greatness in the young intimidated the rest! If the government didn’t think him a prodigy, why would they give him his own Lab here? A university would still have him working under an advisor. Genia walked out of the bathroom and sauntered up to the bar again. One more drink wouldn’t hurt, she thought. Certainly not if it gave her more time to wait for someone to get her. While she had been in the Ladies, the place had filled up even more. It was rather strange how her ticket worked. There was a flight every half hour to Cuba, and she had to be on one, but it didn’t seem to matter which one she was on. That seemed to make things easier and certainly more efficient. They said all the luggage went in separate planes to make room for more people and on these new A380’s, even coach was spacious. “I will have another Melontini.” Genia said with a smile as she ordered the drink she had earlier. It’s cool fruitiness slipped between her lips and down her throat with an ease that should be illegal in an alchoholic beverage. It was almost obscene! She leaned against the bar and looked at the bartender. He was very quick to make everyone’s drinks, even encouraged a second and third to those who only wanted one, and never looked into anyone’s eyes. It must be hard to watch people flying away to a new life, day in and day out, never being able to leave yourself. The airman handed her the drink and waved away her money away. “This one’s on the house, Ma’am!” He said with troubled eyes. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be in this place,” He paused awkwardly. “Alone, I mean! No woman should ever be in a bar alone.” “No! Let me pay you! I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in this place.” Genia slid a twenty across the bar. “Call it a tip.” “Thank you, Ma’am.” The bartender pocketed the money quietly. “You seem unhappy, soldier? Do you find it depressing working here?” She looked at him. He was young, but not too young. Probably someone drafted about twenty-six or so. The man blanched at her, staring as if she knew something she shouldn’t, even a tinge of suspicion. “Of course not. I like my job.” Genia raised a warding hand. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to pry. I was just thinking that it must be difficult to watch all these happy people flying off on adventures and new lives and not be chomping at the bit to get on that plane yourself.” If anything, the man paled even further. “No, Ma’am. I’m not much of a flier. Airplanes make me a little queasy these days.” “How did you end up an airman, then?” She giggled then sipped her drink. “Luck of the draw, Ma’am. Just damn bad luck.” He looked out across the lounge as a group of 1st class stewards entered. “Now you drink that back, Ma’am. It looks like it’s time for your flight.” “Do you know Rod Roddy? He told me to wait for him here?” Genia told him as she drained her glass. “Oh? The big Marine? I know him, but that’s not going to do you much time. When it’s time to go, unfortunately for you, it’s time to go!” The bartender pulled out a shot glass and filled it to the rim with Chopin Vodka. “On me, Ma’am! Have that one on me. I would drink it, but I’m on duty, so have mine!” Genia knew that shot of Vodka would make her more than a little tipsy, but better inebriated if she was going to miss Joseph. “Are you trying to get me drunk, soldier?” The young man smiled so sadly at her. “You seem like a nice lady, Ma’am, and I don’t know why you are going through this alone.” He placed the shot glass right in front of her. “I think I would have liked to have met you some time before this adventure you are going on.” “Why thank you! Bottom’s up, as they say.” The ice cold vodka slammed into her stomach like a ton of bricks and helped calm the remaining flutterings in her chest. “Somehow I think there will be much less vodka for me at the other end of that flight to Cuba!” She smiled brilliantly. “But maybe they will let me have a Mojito or two? It is Cuba after all!” “As you say, Ma’am. It is Cuba.” The man dropped his gaze and returned to his glass polishing. “Good luck there.” He moved off down the bar as the Air Stewards approached. “Armband, please?” The steward asked, his immaculate uniform perfectly pressed. Genia obediently held out her arm and allowed him to scan her. “You’ve missed two planes, Ma’am! That’s not such a good thing. Cuba’s waiting for you.” She shook her head with a sad smile. “All my bags are packed, but I’m not ready to go.” “I’m sorry, but it’s time you left,” The air steward made a gesture to one of his colleagues and addressed him. “Take Ms. Doran to the First class line. It’s time for her flight. I’m sure her baggage is there already.” “Yes, Sir!” The second man, boy really, gestured with his arm. “After you.” Genia pushed herself off the bar with a drunken flair. Suddenly she realized she didn’t want to be lead away like some truant child. “I can make it by myself, thank you!” She was inebriated, and as always, that was giving her a bit of a spine. Perhaps in the lines she could stall long enough for someone to find her and take her to Joseph. “I will escort you to the door then,” The young steward fell in step behind her as she sashayed out of the lounge. “The trips to Cuba are over that way. Four lines over. The shortest is first class.” “Thank you.” Genia moved passed the man and made her way through the crowds milling about in the direction of the Gate to Cuba. There were so many people around, just like in the main terminal but some seemed to have much longer lines than others. Mexico, for instance, seemed to snake for miles in the cavernous room. Even the business class section for Mexico seemed much longer than the Cuba line. Perhaps she could work this to her advantage. A quick glance back told her that the Air Steward was now back into the lounge, so she continued passed the Mexico business class line, and milled with people at the end of the coach section. In the line, but not, she allowed countless people in ahead of her while only taking baby steps forward. Everyone wanted to be on the next flight and was willing to push to jump the queue. It was a simple enough thing to do. If she ever made it to the front, she would just plead ever so drunken ignorance and go to where she was supposed to be. Time seemed to stretch on forever, but here by the windows at least there was something to watch. The constant flow of people eager to make the flight allowed her to get pushed back far enough to miss the first one. It was amazing to watch the four large planes dancing on the tarmac as they taxied around in the blistering heat, their huge engines whirring as they pulled away from the jetbridges. The waiting areas were just as noisy as the check in area with people rushing to find one another and get on the same plane. Mothers chased their wandering children, and called out to their husbands to watch the others. Once, Genia thought she heard her name, but it was so faint she wasn’t sure and she didn’t want to give up her prime hiding space. But why was she hiding? Where was need to hid coming from so desperately? Instinctively she was reacting to something, but she didn’t know what it was. There was a primal fear growing in her breast that she didn’t understand. As if the world was on the edge of falling out from underneath her. It seemed like a rather extreme reaction to not being able to find Joseph, but she the urge to trust it was growing with every passing second. It was the animal brain which kept a man alive, and for some reason, hers was screaming at her. Another air steward walked by, counting people with a clicker in his hand, and Genia saw another opportunity to waste time. “I don’t mean to disturb you, but could you possibly tell me where the toilets are?” This young man flinched as she spoke, obviously he was unused to being disturbed. “The what?” “The toilets.” She slurred through the two words, quite on purpose. “You know. I can’t hold it forever!” “But another plane will be loading in 10 minutes. Wouldn’t you prefer to go after take off?” He suggested with a vague grin. “You might miss the flight and you wouldn’t want to do that!” “Never been very good with plane washrooms, and it’s a bit of an emergency.” Genia told him with a weak grin. “Besides, there’s another one in half an hour isn’t there?” The previous Mexico flight pulled away from the building, and something struck Genia as very wrong. There was no pilot or co pilot in the cockpit. Yes. That seemed very wrong indeed. The young man let out a long suffering sigh. “Fine then,” He pointed across their section of the waiting area. “Over there. Here. I need to scan you first so we know where you are.” He pulled the required device from his belt. Don’t let him scan you! The words hit her like a punch. “No! I will come back!” She moved away quickly. “I just can’t hold it any longer.” Her ploy must have worked, for the boy didn’t follow here, only watched her go into the ladies room. This room was far less well appointed than the washroom in the lounge, and Genia moved to the cheap arberite counter with its utilitarian metal sinks and splashed some cold water on her face. The woman in the mirror didn’t look like herself. The woman in the mirror had wild, hollow eyes. Genia closed her eyes and shook her head, feeling her brain swishing alarmingly. What was it? What was so out of place? Honest pressure on her bladder drove her into one of the stalls and as she sat down on the toilet, she replayed the scene out the window over in her mind. The planes moving around on the tarmac. The planes without pilots moving around on the tarmac. The jet engines whirring loudly as the planes backed up. But- Genia flushed the toilet, then pulled her shoes off and put them on the toilet paper holder. Carefully she climbed up on the toilet seat and crouched low, holding the skirts of her dress up so the stall looked empty if anyone looked in the washroom for her. Such a silly movie trick, but it felt effective. What was the problem? What was it she was looking for? What couldn’t she think of? She went through it all in her mind from the very beginning. It was hot. Dusty. People every where. Planes moving around on the tarmac. The funny smell. The comments from the workers. Everyone seemed so- funny. Ellie never wanted her to come here. His strange Email. He was very protective of her. Didn’t want her to get hurt, and he didn’t want her to come here and see- What? What didn’t he want her to see? The planes going off to tropical places? People happy? That the planes didn’t have pilots? That was a bit of a surprise, but autopilot was amazing these days. They said you only needed pilots for take offs and landings if some thing went wrong. Then it hit her. She had been here for over two hours and not one time have there been the shaking roar of a large jet plane taking off. She stood by the window and not one plane had taken off. Eight planes loaded every hour, but not one took off and not one landed. Where did they go? What did they do with them? 550 people on each of those planes! Where did they go? What happened to those people? It was a place her mind simply refused to go, but she knew she had to get out of here fast. If she stayed, it would be the end of her. Simply the end of her! Getting on those planes meant that something awful would happen and she wasn’t going to sit around and find out what. Who should she trust, and what should she do? The wristband had to go. That was first and foremost. Maybe she could pretend to be an off duty soldier someone who got into the terminal by accident. There seemed to be many female staff in the building and everybody couldn’t know everybody? What if she could get out of here and pretend to be one of them? The first thing that had to go was her ID and that damn wristband. And a disguise of some kind. She took off her dress and went down to her red cotton knit slip. It skidded down her body like a sheath to just above the knee with a thick band of Alencon lace and looked enough like a dress on its own to be wearable. At least it didn’t look like the semishear black billowing duster dress she had been wearing. The black shoes and stockings were perhaps a little whorish for the airport, but at this point, it didn’t matter anymore. She twisted her hair up to a tight knot on her head and ran the pen in her purse through it like a chopstick to hold it up. The wristband was a plasticized paper and no amount of tearing would get it to break. There was nothing sharp here, nothing she could break. Genia tried her house keys; jamming them under the edge hoping they would catch and tear the damn paper but it was to no avail, and all she succeeded in doing was jabbing her forearm hard. No. This wouldn’t work. What else was there? Nail file? No. Syringes? Not sharp enough. As she stared at the syringes, she realized that she hadn’t gone through a normal security gate to come into this part of the airport. Every airport X-rayed you. Why hadn’t this one? Why hadn’t that struck her as odd? And why was it that it took a shot of vodka to give her this burst of paranoia which might just save her life? As she juggled the vials of Leptin, one jumped from her hand and shattered on the floor, spraying the liquid in all directions. The glass mess was primarily contained by the sticky label on it. Genia picked it up and realized that Ellie had been right. We all had to learn toughness one day. She pulled a largish shard of glass from the label and went after the band from the inside. The shard was sharp on both sides and she almost dropped it the first time it went into her skin. Scarlet blood, almost the same shade as her slip welled up from the cut to stain the wrist band. “Tough! I need to be tough. I don’t want to die.” Genia whispered as she hacked through both her wristband and herself. A decent amount of blood and time later, the hated thing dropped into the toilet and she flushed it away. Several inch long slashes were on the inside edge of her arm, just down from the thumb but away from the veins she could see. They were bleeding Far faster than she would like and knew they needed stitches. She turned the broken vail over and stared at it. It had Joseph’s name on it, as well as another doctor. It was labeled Leptin. Why had she just not shown these to the people at the front counter. How had she been so stupid? Perhaps that was her ticket out now. But her first priority was to deal with the blood coursing down her arm. There was a bang outside the stall as the main door to the bathroom was kicked in. “I saw her come in here, and never come out. I watched!” The young man’s voice from earlier assaulted her ears. “No one in here now. They aren’t smart enough to hide.” Another voice said. Footsteps walked through the small bathroom and stopped at her stall. Her accelerated scared heart was pumping the blood from her wrist even faster and it was running down her arm. The other was holding the glass and label as tightly as possible without slicing through the other palm. Her purse was on her shaking knees with the other three vials on top. Genia didn’t even breath. Don’t see me. Don’t hear me. You can’t see me. I’m not here. I’m not here. But fate wasn’t conspiring with her. The blood ran down her arm and pooled at her elbow. Genia tried to bring it in to her body to blot it on her dress, but it fell in a loud, wet crimson splat on the white tile floor. The boots on the floor pivoted and she could see one foot come off the ground. She pulled her hands up to protect her face, unmindful of the fact that her cheek connected with the blood on her arm. The door of the stall exploded inward and there was the young man with the clicker and another Marine facing her with her side arm. “Freeze!” The Marine barked. Genia flinched back so abruptly that another Leptin vial went off her knee and onto the tile floor. The sound of glass shattering was as loud as a sonic boom in the room. “Please don’t shoot me!” She whispered. “Freeze!” The Marine ordered again as he took a step into the cell. “What the hell was in that thing?” The Airman demanded. “Murray? What is it?” Murray dropped into crouch, and without taking his gun off Genia, looked at the label which was facing up. “Oh shit! Oh Shit!” The man’s gun started shaking. “She’s a freaking Elephant! She’s a freaking Elephant! Get out! Get out now!”
Posted on: Sat, 11 Oct 2014 11:37:59 +0000
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