by Leon Logos
6:00 AM crept up sluggishly. They were called up for boarding, first class passengers in front. Rucksack on, duffel bag in one hand, she stood behind Garen. Agno was not in line with them; he was about a few feet ahead of them, currently speaking to a woman that was clearly Sophie’s mother. The woman looked just as mesmerized towards Agno as Sophie was to him. This was the moment Agno would acquire permission. Desmos finally seemed to notice this new-found relationship and glowered at Agno.
“This kid is starting already?” he said, nettled.
The boarding process was considerably shorter than forging through security. Flight attendants greeted them as they entered the aircraft. As soon as she stepped foot into the plane, the air changed. There was a pungent smell, analogous to an exhaust from an old vehicle. The leathery seats emanated an odor comparable to the scent of a new car. Finally, the aroma of coffee permeated the air, being served to some of the first-class passengers.
They shuffled forward, advancing through the narrow aisles to the end of the plane. Passengers did not rush to take their seats, storing their luggage in the luggage compartments and even switching seats, blatantly obstructing the flow of proceeding passengers. She rechecked her boarding pass, ascertaining her seat. It was F33. Once she reached it, she stowed her duffel bag into the compartment and sidled into the window seat at the far end, setting her rucksack by her feet. Kyler took the middle seat next to her, but nobody occupied the seat at the front. Desmos, Cackle, and Garen were seated directly across from them in the same aisle. Agno’s whereabouts didn’t require explanation. It was only a matter of time before somebody sat in the seat that was empty, next to Kyler. He was a middle-aged bald man with a shaven beard and an abnormally large forehead.
“Don’t mind me taking this seat,” the man said affably. “Some young chap asked to switch with me. Is that a problem for you?”
“Not at all,” Serenity replied.
“Not sure why I agreed. I don’t normally inconvenience myself. But the bloke was quite insistent.”
The boarding process took roughly twenty minutes. The flight attendants repeatedly walked up and down the aisles, entreating the passengers to put on their seat belts and responding to mild complaints. For the umpteenth time, the captain of the aircraft introduced himself and informed them of the weather conditions. Then, the ubiquitous airline safety video which preceded every flight ever, played on the small screens in front of them. The female flight attendant demonstrated where to find the life-vests underneath the seats and how to put on the oxygen masks in case of an emergency.
Then another ten minutes of waiting before the engines of the aircraft could be felt firing up. The floor vibrated, accentuating its power. The plane began to slowly turn and move away from the jet bridge. A couple of times, she braced herself for takeoff as the plane began to accelerate quickly. But it simply decelerated after. She knew when it was the real deal once the engines exploded and the plane zoomed off across the runway. She looked out the window as the plane lifted off the ground and ascended into the air. The pressure was immense, crushing against her chest and abdomen. It felt like she was free falling in the sky, as exaggerative as it sounded. Nausea kicked in, but she restrained it, keeping her mouth shut. She only regained her composure when the plane stabilized, neither ascending or descending.
“You looked like you were about to puke,” Kyler commented.
“I almost did,” she admitted. “If I can’t handle this, I don’t think I’ll find roller coasters to be any fun.”
She had always dreamt of visiting an amusement park and going on rides. The prospect was previously tantalizing, but now disconcerting.
“I don’t think I’ll find this flight to be fun,” Kyler brooded. “Thirteen hours—and I don’t feel tired enough to sleep it through.”
“That’s what these screens are for. They’ve got games and movies.”
“Childish,” Kyler muttered distastefully.
“You’re only sixteen,” Serenity remarked.
Their lifestyle had created a detrimental effect on Kyler; he felt older than he truly was. At twelve, Kyler was already as mature as a twenty-year-old. Anything ordinary adolescents were into disinterested him. But Kyler was no prosaic kid. He resembled Desmos the most out of the brothers. Cackle was a year older than Kyler, but immature to the degree of intolerance. Though, she wished Kyler wasn’t so apathetic sometimes.
But he was right. This thirteen-hour flight wasn’t something to look forward to. The entertainment provided in front of them didn’t appeal to her either. Meanwhile, the stranger sitting next to them was munching on pretzels noisily, the crackling of the bag stridently audible.
Six hours later, it was now dark outside and in the plane. Most passengers were asleep or watching movies. The man sitting with seemed like he under general anesthesia, not moving a muscle and asleep with his mouth open. An hour ago, lunch was served to them; the Turkish meal (which consisted of rice, chicken, lamb, and salad) she consumed was adequately prepared, though a tad cold. But it filled her up satisfyingly, inducing sleepiness.
She checked her phone for the time; there still was seven hours left in the flight. They weren’t even half way there yet.
She started to muse again, but this time she shared her thoughts.
“Are we going to school in Manchester?” she asked thoughtfully, but quietly out of consideration for the passengers asleep.
Kyler opened his eyes slowly; he hadn’t been sleeping, but rather attempting to. Or he was in contemplation, like her. Since he barely spoke aloud, there must’ve been a great deal of thinking going on in his head.
“I don’t really see why,” he slurred.
“Well, school-season isn’t over, right?”
“After what happened just two nights ago? I think it is.”
“That’s a shame,” she mumbled.
“I figured you would feel it too early to go back to school now. I mean, after what happened with your friend…”
“I thought I told you not to bring it up anymore.”
“I thought I told you to get over it.”
Serenity sucked her teeth in exasperation, wrapping her blanket around her body more tightly. The warmth it offered was comforting.
“Thanks for the reminder,” she said sarcastically. “It’s always nice to chat with you, Kyler.”
“You don’t exactly talk with anyone else,” he reminded, most likely implicating the other brothers.
“Well, that’s because nobody else listens,” she said frankly. “And when they do, it’s never any good.”
Kyler turned his head right to look at her, pokerfaced.
“There’s a storm coming,” he said arbitrarily, pointing out the window.
She looked to her right. Purple lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the clouds and menacingly piercing the sky. Yes, there was a storm coming. But why it was relevant didn’t require explication; the personality of Kyler was inexplicable in itself.
When Serenity awoke, it was still dark out. She checked the time; it was clear that a long time had passed. They were an hour away from their destination. The captain notified them that the plane would be commencing its descent shortly, and once again thanked them for choosing the airline. It was fortunate that she managed to sleep out most of the flight.
Serenity considered the descent to be twice as uncomfortable than the take-off. Descending was a gradual process, contrary to the brief takeoff. They experienced rough turbulence, jerking them around and quaking their insides. She once again kept her mouth shut. Land faded into view as they dropped from the black-yet-dreary clouds with urban life visible below. The city of Manchester met her eyes, with its distinct architecture and sparkling skyscrapers situated in the downtown area. Sophie wasn’t lying about the weather; already, as they hit the ground and the plane tremored fiercely as it hurtled across the runway, she could tell it was raining.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Manchester,” the captain announce
d. “It’s a bit cloudy today with a high chance of precipitation, so make sure to stay dry as you exit the airport. The current time is 3:05 AM.”
As soon as the plane slowly pulled up by the jet bridge, there was a beep, and the seatbelt sign switched off. At once, passengers rose to their feet and opened the luggage compartments. Serenity grabbed her rucksack by her feet and strapped it over her shoulders, standing up. She followed the line of passengers to the front of the plane, shambling through the aisles. The flight attendants beamed and waved at them as they exited the aircraft and entered the jet bridge, which led the way into the airport. There was hardly anybody here, evidently due to the time. Additionally, it wasn’t holiday season in England like it was in the United States.
She grouped with the others; they were waiting on Agno, who was still a no-show. It was obvious what the delay was. He came out late, with Sophie and her mother. Agno’s farewell lasted about a minute, but it constituted a kiss on the cheek from Sophie. After Sophie and her mother left the vicinity, he paraded up to them with a smug look on his face.
“She would’ve kissed me on the lips if her mother wasn’t around,” Agno boasted. “Next time we meet, I’m leveling up.”
“If I see you with that girl again, I’ll stick a knife in her throat,” Desmos warned. “Remove her number from your contacts; I know you have it.”
“Don’t be like that, man!” Agno groaned. “You’re just mad I claimed her before you. But I’ll share her with you—”
“You know perfectly well why you need to cut ties with her,” Desmos declared. “We can’t afford distractions, and I know you’ll be distracted.”
“No, I won’t,” Agno refuted. “She’s nothing to me, like all the other girls I grab. We’re allowed to have fun once in a while.”
Desmos suddenly seized Agno and pulled him towards him, snatching his phone from his pocket.
“Yo, yo, chill out!” Agno said, alarmed.
Serenity knew what was happening next. She was glad not to be in Agno’s shoes. Desmos hurled the phone onto the solid floor. The screen cracked instantly, but he wasn’t finished. He stomped on it twice, completely disfiguring it entirely. There was now no way that phone would turn on; it was flattened. Agno gawked at the remains of his phone, speechless.
“Let’s go,” said Desmos, ushering them towards the baggage claim.
For the next twenty minutes, they waited dully by the airport’s exit. Serenity sat on the floor, back against the wall, impatiently tapping her feet. Desmos was on the phone, attempting to contact Gunther. He insisted they wouldn’t be going anywhere until Gunther answered and provided him the clarifications he needed. The details were unknown to them and particularly herself; she felt everything was intentionally kept from her these days.
Agno was patently choleric, silently fuming. He frequently gave Desmos dirty looks while he sat cross-legged a couple feet away from her. Although Agno was angered, he knew he couldn’t do anything about it. Desmos was the boss. Period.
“Can we leave already?!” Cackle grumbled. “Desmos, what’s taking you so long? The exit is right there!”
“I’m trying to reach Father; he’s not picking up!” Desmos growled.
“Do you even know where we’re going?” Garen asked.
“Not exactly. I just need to clarify somethi—hello, Father?”
It seemed Gunther had finally answered. Desmos got straight to the point, not bothering to hide the conversation.
“Something confuses me about the address you gave me. I believed Manchester would be our new place of residence, yet the coordinates correspond to a location in Cheshire. Yes? Okay… yes… all right, sorry, sir.”
The phone call ended as quickly as it started.
“Okay, let’s get out of here,” Desmos said gruffly, to their elation, striding towards the exit.
Serenity crawled to her feet and followed the others to the exit, bracing herself for the cold as they stepped into the dark, chilly morning. She shivered, keeping her nipped fingers in her pockets to protect them from the freezing cold. It was even more frigid here than it was in Portland. The constant breeze exacerbated the torment, making it even colder. She wished she had brought gloves or a thick fur coat. The glistening wet streets in the drop-off zone weren’t too busy. Desmos led them to a building at the other side, with a sign with bright neon letters that said:
RENTAL CARS
They were acquiring a new vehicle. Properly. (The van they had used in Sequim had been stolen.) She breathed in relief as the warmth of the air-conditioned building cocooned her. There was nobody but themselves inside here. The employees at the desks looked ready to doze off at any given moment. Desmos walked up to the nearest one and began the process.
She took a seat on a bench, rubbing her hands together. Cackle stood by Desmos, whispering something in his ear, which he ignored. Knowing Cackle, he probably was attempting to choose the exact vehicle they were renting. Most likely, another van since there were six of them.
She could feel the effects of jet-lag already setting in. Quite literally, it had been almost a day since she saw daylight. They had left Portland early in the morning and had arrived here in Manchester also early in the morning. Repose was also beginning to take over. When she gave it some thought, so much had happened in the last couple of days.
Fifteen minutes later, they were back outside again in the parking garage that was filled with rental cars. They walked to zone “D,” where their new vehicle was. Only two cars were parked in this zone: a black Range Rover and a Toyota Sienna. Without giving it much thought, Desmos selected the Range Rover, and they all clambered inside after stowing their luggage in the back. The smell of a new car pervaded, stemming from the fresh leather interior. She took a seat at the back; Agno was the last one to enter the car, so he was forced to join her. He was still seething.
“What is all this shit?” Desmos said, flummoxed, looking at the dashboard, gear, and steering wheel (which was outlandishly on the right side of the car rather than the left).
He had never driven in a brand-new car before; this vehicle was state-of-the-art, equipped with the latest technology. It took a minute or two, but he quickly figured it all out. In no time, they were out of the parking garage and into the highway.
“Can you ask Desmos where we’re going?” she whispered to Kyler.
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Kyler replied.
It was obvious why; Desmos wouldn’t answer her.
“Ask me what?” Desmos demanded, overhearing him.
“She wants to know where we’re going,” said Kyler bluntly.
“It’s complicated,” said Desmos, inputting an address into the GPS system. “We’re staying at somebody’s house. A friend of Father’s.”
“Temporarily, right?” Garen asked. “And since when did Father have friends? Affiliates, not friends.”
“It’s temporary until Father meets us there,” Desmos said. “He called them ‘friend,’ it’s just what came out of his mouth.”
“And who exactly are these people?” Agno inquired, speaking since the demolition of his phone. He must’ve been really curious.
“He didn’t say,” said Desmos simply. “But if Father trusts them, we should, too. Save the judging for later.”
Whoever they were, she hoped they weren’t as savage as Gunther. She had never met any of his “affiliates” or “friends.” Sometimes, she questioned their existence. They were an independent, solitary “family” with no relatives or friends, and Gunther encouraged that reality. But Gunther’s past was a mystery; where he came from—his true intentions—everything was nebulous. All they knew was that he was “Father,” their parent and master, and they were his obsequious children.
The GPS calculated that they would reach their destination in two hours and forty-five minutes. Though, she was expecting it to be longer.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Daylight was bliss to her eyes and mental state as the sun rose into the
sky, casting its radiant rays. They were an hour into the car ride. Now that it was daytime, she could see the landscape and the city of Manchester as they drove past it. But their time in Manchester was momentary; they veered off into a different road, departing the Manchester area. Soon enough, a familiar but bland sight enclosed them: farmland and cattle.
She propped her temple against the cool glass. The greenery of the landscapes piqued her interest, but she was getting pretty tired of it. Rural towns and areas were all she saw the past year, and nearly her whole life.
Cackle seemed to be on the same page as her, in terms of this.
“Why is it that everywhere we go, it’s secluded?” he complained. “When are we going to live in a city instead of a damn village.”
“We’re in Cheshire right now,” Desmos explained, driving along a dirt road that seemed to stretch on endlessly. “It’s a non-metropolitan county in England, so it’s far from urban. At least, where we’re going is.”
“Looks exactly like Sequim,” Garen remarked. “Minus the ocean and all the purple flowers and shit.”
Serenity disagreed. Although Sequim was a small rural town, the city still felt urban. And it was. People from Sequim were no different than in Seattle, Salt Lake City, or even Vancouver; they were aware of popular culture and interconnected with the rest of the nation through the Internet. Here, it oozed folk culture. Outdated and old-fashioned, as if knights on horseback would come ardently charging down the hill at any moment. It sounded comical, but they were in a foreign land.
“Why does it seem like we’re going into hiding?” Agno said.
“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” said Garen, dissatisfied. “You heard Father back in Portland. We have to run and they’re coming for us.”
“They should’ve caught us by now,” said Kyler suspiciously. “If they’re so large in number, how come we’ve never seen any Aurelians yet.”
