by Gwynn White
Frowning, I went back and forth in my mind for about a second. I tried to remember who I’d seen in the same aisle. Corey. Maybe Drake. The seat right next to Jaden had been empty though, as far as I could remember.
Knowing I’d regret it, I pursed my lips, sliding a leg under my rear. I sat up in my chair, raising my head up to peer over the back of the seat.
It took me a few seconds to find him again from the lower vantage point. He was a good twenty rows behind us, maybe twenty-five.
I found Corey, his drummer, first.
Corey was talking to Randy, their band manager, who sat next to him, looking half-awake and half-stoned, as usual. On Corey’s other side sat Drake, their bass player.
I found Jaden on the other side of Drake. He wasn’t sleeping, but talking, and not to anyone in his band. Instead, he was entirely focused on the person sitting to his right––a blond girl in her early twenties with poofy hair, pink lipstick, and a low-cut VR-paneled top that flashed light blue and pink in the dim light, matching her lipstick and eyes.
Widening those blue eyes in an affected innocent look, she pursed her lips in a pouty expression as I watched, nodding seriously and smiling as Jaden talked. He laughed halfway through telling her something, gesticulating with his hands, and she giggled with him, thrusting her chest forward in the low-cut blouse. Smiling at him when he finished, she touched his arm, leaning closer to say something directly in his ear.
Turning around in the seat, I slid back to sitting on my ass.
A cold feeling hit my gut. I fought not to think about that prickle of warning I’d been feeling for weeks. Months. I fought not to connect it to what I’d just seen.
A stewardess passed us, pointing sternly at me and Cass’s laps.
“Seat belts,” she said. “Headsets off.”
Nodding, I shifted in my seat, looking for the ends of my seatbelt. A part of me was glad of the distraction. Anything to get out of my own head.
I was buckling the ends when I finally exchanged looks with Cass. She hadn’t bothered with either her headset or seatbelt yet, but folded her arms under her breasts, frowning.
“Did you know she was coming?” she said. “Miss ‘I-Talk-With-My-Giant-Inflatable-Tits’? She’s that bitch who’s been trying to get with Jaden since their single took off, right?”
I shrugged, biting my lip to keep from commenting.
“At least if the plane lands in the ocean, he won’t drown,” Cass retorted.
“Cass.” I exhaled. “You’ve never been entirely above using your…” I nodded towards her own generous chest. “…assets. You know. Strategically.”
“Not with guys who have girlfriends,” she said, sharper. “Jesus, Al. The tits aren’t the issue.”
I nodded, conceding her point. “I know.” I felt my jaw harden. “And no, I didn’t know she was coming. Jaden didn’t mention it––”
“––I bet he didn’t,” Cass retorted.
“I just don’t want to focus on her, Cass,” I said, giving her a faintly warning look. “She’s not the point. Jaden is. He should’ve told me––”
Cass barely seemed to hear me.
“––And I sure as fuck wouldn’t worry about breaking sister-code with that asshole groupie. All bets are off with someone who’s actively trying to screw you, Al.” She continued in a low whisper, her voice openly angry. “Seriously, what the hell? And what is Jaden doing? Did he think you wouldn’t notice? How the fuck is she even sitting there with them? Did he buy her ticket for her, or what?”
I didn’t answer, folding my own arms.
Truthfully, I didn’t have an answer.
I couldn’t remember the girl’s name. Hell, I wasn’t sure I’d ever gotten her name. I remembered her face, and her passive-aggressive jabs as she sat with me and Jaden in clubs after a few of his shows. I knew she was a relative newcomer to his whole scene, like Cass said, despite her constant proclamations of being a rabid fan.
Jaden’s “very biggest fan,” if memory served.
She’d even chided me a few times for missing shows because I had to work.
I’d refrained from asking her how many laundry mat gigs she showed up for, before Eye of Morris had their first big hit, and it was “cool” to like them. I wanted to ask how many times she’d been one of three in a coffee shop audience, trying to drum up enthusiasm on a Tuesday night after working a double-shift, when I had to work the next day.
A part of me wanted to ask, though.
Jaden’s band toiled in obscurity for years before getting their lucky break, when an indie feed producer used one of Jaden’s songs as a theme song for her multi-ending movie. The movie took off unexpectedly, and Jaden’s band along with it.
Pouty lips was part of the sudden influx of “fans” who showed up after that.
I really should know her name, but I had a tendency to block out the names of people I didn’t like. Pouty-lips was definitely one of those people.
“I’d cut the bitch, if it was me,” Cass said, her voice low, but still angry. “Get Sasquatch to hack and reprogram my virtual cloak––make it look like some random New York tweaker. Leave her in a fucking alley one night.”
I gave her another warning look when a second stewardess walked by.
Just then, Jon, who’d gone to use the toilet cubicle, slumped into the seat next to me. I noticed only then that the plane was moving.
Jon immediately turned to me, frowning. “Did you see who the fuck Jaden’s sitting with?”
Cass leaned over me, half-lying in my lap to talk to Jon before I could answer.
“Can’t you kung fu that bitch’s ass, Jon?” she hissed. “Allie won’t let me.”
He snorted, rolling his eyes. “If Jaden’s interested in that, then the particulars are the least of Allie’s problems.” He gave me a swift, apologetic look. “Sorry.”
I shrugged, shaking my head. “Why? You’re right.”
Glancing at me again, Jon hesitated.
I felt his hesitation and turned, looking up. Frowning at the reluctant expression on his face, I heard the wariness in my own voice.
“What?”
He let out a sigh. I heard the reluctance in that, too.
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he said, leaning back in his chair and clicking in his seat belt. “Especially now, with the Jaden thing, but when the stewards let me use the toilet, they had me go up front. On my way back here, I saw your friend.”
I went from wary to puzzled. “My… friend?”
Jon nodded towards the curtains. “First class. Your knight in shining armor. The not-a-seer who saved your life.” His jaw firmed as he gave me another glance. “He definitely saw me. You might be right, Al. I don’t think he’s a seer. I’m thinking now he’s probably a cop. Maybe Home-Sec… even SCARB.”
“What?” I felt the blood drain from my face. “Why? Why would you say that?”
He shrugged, making a vague gesture. “Just a vibe. I’ve trained a lot of cops, and he’s got a bit of that cop-thing. I can’t really explain it beyond that.” He glanced at me again, lifting an eyebrow. “It’s possible he was in the military, and I’m picking up on that. A lot of cops are also vets, especially nowadays.”
I knew Jon trained a lot of law enforcement personnel as a kung fu instructor for one of the bigger Choy Li Fut studios in San Francisco. Being one of their senior instructors, he did a lot of the more intensive training himself, especially at the Western Addition branch.
Biting my lip, I leaned over in my seat, glancing through the curtain to first class. I could only see the backs of seats, though.
“He’s on our side,” Jon said. “Sitting alone. That aisle has a row of one-seaters.”
I nodded, frowning as I leaned back in my seat.
Jon nudged me. “You going to go up there and say hi? Thank him, at least?”
When I glanced up at him, he grinned.
“You want me to go up there and talk to my maybe-stalker?” I said. “The
same guy you both gave me endless shit about earlier? Who might be a cop? Or SCARB?”
Jon shrugged, still smiling faintly. “Cop is better than terrorist. And Jaden’s being a dick. You might as well, you know… distract yourself.”
Snorting, I leaned back in my seat.
“I’m going to distract myself with a nap,” I said. “You and Cass will just have to find some other way to entertain yourselves… apart from convincing me to make an ass of myself with total strangers. I still can’t hear for shit, anyway.”
“Party-pooper,” Cass whispered from my other side.
Smiling faintly, I shook my head, grunting a laugh. Before they could hassle me again, I snuggled deeper into my seat and closed my eyes, trying to relax enough to doze.
I would think about Jaden and Jon’s mysterious cop later.
I woke up without warning, jerking violently in the narrow airplane seat.
I sat up when I did, blinking around at the pitch dark space.
Everyone around me was asleep. I saw headsets blinking from the temples and ears of people sitting on the same row, and more lights from elsewhere in the cabin, but most of the cabin was pitch dark apart from the running lights on the floor and those softer pulses.
Someone had put a blanket over me, probably Jon.
I pulled an arm out from under the thick dark cloth, rubbing my face, which still felt gritty. Deciding to take the opportunity to go the bathroom and clean up a bit, I started to take the blanket off altogether, when something fell off my lap.
When I looked down to see what it had been, I was surprised to see a white, folded square of paper on the floor by my feet. Someone must have left it on my lap. I hadn’t noticed until I knocked it off the blanket.
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I leaned forward, scooping it up off the floor.
On the very top was written, in dark black script:
ALYSON.
Picking it up warily, I fumbled with my headset to turn on a low-level light so I wouldn’t wake up Jon or Cass, both of whom were asleep on either side of me. Cass was snoring softly, her mouth partway open, her lips still faintly blue, even in the low light.
Turning on the dark amber light, I aimed it at the note, then began unfolding it carefully.
More of the same block letters covered the inside of the page.
THREE BY FIRE
WILL CLEANSE THE WORLD
THREE BY FIRE
WILL BRING THE ONE
THE HARBINGER, THE BRIDGE
KEEPER OF THE LAST DAYS
KEEPER OF THE SOUL OF OUR PEOPLE
WILL YOU BE WORTHY?
WILL YOU CALL HER NAME?
WILL YOU SING THE SONG
TO BRING THE SWORD AND BRIDGE?
TO BRING HUMANITY BACK TO THE LIGHT?
I frowned, turning the page over. Nothing was written on the back. Nothing apart from my name, what I’d seen when the paper was folded.
Reading the whole thing again, I frowned.
Then, kicking the blanket off my legs and arms, I stood up.
I’d forgotten all about the bathroom, though.
6
Questions
My heart pounded in my chest as I shoved my way through the curtain to first class, but I was too angry to let myself second-guess my thought process.
I gripped the note in one hand, still blinking to wake up, walking a little off-balance from both the motion of the plane and just my own tiredness.
I found him easily enough.
He wasn’t asleep.
He had a strange look on his face, though, like he was thinking about something highly complex, something happening a long way away. Sitting with his eyes half out of focus, he stared in the direction of a monitor set in the rounded, space-age type cubicle wall in front of him. The monitor was playing one of the network news feeds, showing live coverage of riots currently taking place in some Asian country––maybe China.
As I stood there, looking at him, he raised a glass to his lips, taking a long swallow of an amber liquid that looked like hard alcohol.
When I leaned pointedly on the curved wall that opened up to his private seat, and just stood there, glaring at him, note in hand, he didn’t look up.
I pointedly cleared my throat.
Jumping violently, he sloshed part of his drink on his hand as he looked up, his light-colored eyes clicking back into focus. From the expression on his face, he hadn’t been watching the feeds at all, but had been spacing out––maybe even meditating.
I didn’t wait, but tossed the note onto his joint-armed swivel tray. It landed an inch or two from his hand still clutching the drink.
“What the fuck is this?” I demanded.
He blinked, staring up at me. Shock flickered across his expression, like a ripple over a still pond. It left him blank, emotionless, but his eyes slightly wider than before. Looking at him, at his thick black hair, the angular features and almond eyes, the black, form-fitting shirt over a muscular upper body and broad shoulders, it hit me in a rush that I didn’t know him at all.
What the hell was I doing?
Firming my jaw, I decided I didn’t care.
“Did you do this?” I said, my voice still a whisper, but sharp. “Did you leave this on me while I was sleeping, like some kind of creepy weirdo?”
He cleared his throat, glancing down at the note, then up at me.
His fingers moved the paper slightly with his fingers, maybe to look at it, or maybe to keep it off the napkin now soaked with that splash of his drink.
He cleared his throat again, looking up.
“What?” he said.
His voice carried an accent, a thick European edge.
“Are you deaf?” I said. “I’m asking if you put that in my lap.” Keeping my voice low, due to the quietness of the cabin, I pointed at the note. “Was that you? Did you do that, or not?”
Again he blinked, then looked down at the note a second time.
I was starting to wonder if he was drunk.
“What the fuck, man?” I said, frustration raising my voice slightly. “Did you do it or not? And why? Is that religious mumbo-jumbo supposed to scare me?”
He continued to stare up at me, his crystal-like eyes nearly blank. Up close, and shining into the faint overhead light, I could see they contained almost no color at all.
I also couldn’t help noticing he really was striking-looking. Not handsome exactly, not in the conventional sense, but something about his angular features were hard to look away from. I found myself looking at them in more detail instead, from his narrow mouth to the high cheekbones and those oddly glass-like eyes.
I watched him let go of his drink.
He paused to shake out his wet fingers.
He wiped them off a second later, using a dark red, cloth napkin that hung over the metal hinged arm attached to his work table.
Picking up the note gingerly in his fingers once he’d finished, he unfolded it while I continued to stand over him. I watched him read it, seeing his narrow mouth curl in a faint frown as he slowly went over the words. After he’d read the whole thing once, his eyes returned to the top of the page, scanning over the length of it a second time.
Feeling my face flush as I realized maybe I’d made a mistake, I bit my lip.
“If you didn’t give it to me, who did?” I said, my voice more subdued.
He didn’t answer, but turned the note over, staring at my name written on the back. He turned the note to the front again and appeared to read the lines of block-printed words a third time.
Frustrated, and now convinced he was either drunk, screwing with me, or some kind of idiot, I started to move away from his seat. He reached out before I could take more than a step, moving faster than thought.
His fingers caught hold of my arm, stopping me.
“Wait.”
I came to a dead stop, staring down at him.
After a pause, he looked up.
Those crystal eyes had hardened perceptibly.
They studied my face, wary. After a pause where he still seemed to be gauging my expression, maybe to see if I’d try to leave again, he glanced back at the note he held in his other hand.
“Someone gave this to you?” he said. “When?”
His eyes looked so deadly serious, I found myself lost there briefly.
Swallowing, I shook my head, averting my gaze from his.
“I was asleep,” I said, still not really looking at him. “How would I know?”
“They left it on you? You woke up with this? On you?” That faint European accent grew more prominent. It sounded German to me now. I was still staring at him when his brow furrowed more. “How long were you asleep?”
“I don’t know––” I began, frustrated.
“Did you see anyone else on this plane you recognize?” he cut in. “I don’t mean friends… or any of the people you’re traveling with. Anyone else. Anyone you recognize from what happened at the airport this morning?”
I shook my head, puzzled. “No.”
“You’re certain, Allie? No one? Did you look at all of the passengers?”
My eyes shifted abruptly back to his.
“No, I didn’t,” I repeated, my frown deepening “I was asleep. And since we’re asking questions… how the hell do you know my name? Who are you? Are you going to tell me that?”
His fingers tightened briefly on my wrist.
For a moment, he hesitated, as if about to give me a real answer.
Then his mouth firmed, right before he shook his head.
“Please,” he said. “Answer the question.”
Still off-balance, and now a little unnerved, I stared at his pale eyes, suddenly conscious of his long fingers circling my wrist.
“It really wasn’t you?” I said. “You didn’t write that?”
“No.” He shook his head, once. “I did not.”
“Then who the hell did?”
“I’m trying to help you discern that.”
“What does it mean?” I said, nodding towards the piece of paper. “What they wrote. Do you know? It’s some kind of scripture, right? Third Myth stuff?”
Before he could answer, a noise in the aisle caused me to turn towards the front of the plane. A stewardess was walking briskly in our direction, her expression set in a faint scowl. When she caught my gaze, she motioned at me impatiently, pursing her lips.