by Glaze, JH
The apartment smelled like good country cooking as he took the bacon from the oven, arranged the toast, eggs, and bacon on the plate, added the strawberries as a colorful garnish. He poured some orange juice into a clean glass, and set Emily’s breakfast on the table.
He heard the water pipes thump as Emily turned the shower off, and he hurried to set the silverware on the table, adding a large paper napkin. He was careful to set the jelly within reach, and was just finishing up as she opened the door and came walking into the kitchen area.
Just as he had expected, her hair and body were wrapped up in towels, and she was rubbing her hair to dry it. He flashed a big grin and proudly announced, “I made you a nice, big, country breakfast.” He pulled the chair out for her to sit down.
“Really? That was sweet of you, but I usually don’t eat breakfast, John. Got any coffee?” She sat down in the chair and pushed the plate away from her.
John wilted like a cut flower lying on hot pavement in the heat of summer. “Uh, yeah, I think I have some,” came the answer from the suddenly glum host. He looked in the cabinet next to the coffee maker.
“You didn’t make some breakfast for yourself? Why don’t you go ahead and eat mine. It looks really delicious, John. If I was going to eat something this early in the day, that breakfast would be exactly right.” She was lying through her teeth, she hated bacon, but she wanted him to know she appreciated his effort.
He was making the coffee with his back turned to her, but it was obvious that she had hurt his feelings. She felt bad about that, after all, he had saved her life yesterday. “John, I’m sorry about breakfast. Really. I want you to know that I’m really grateful that you saved my life yesterday. And what happened last night, well that was especially nice. I don’t make a habit of saying thank you all that often, just so you know.”
He smiled weakly. “Oh sure, no problem!”
He picked up the food and moved it to the other side of the table, then sat down and started to eat. “Let me know when you’re done with the bathroom, I’d like to get my shower before we leave.”
“Okay, baby,” she said and walked into the bathroom.
He stopped with a fork full of food just shy of reaching his mouth, and asked himself out loud, “Did she just call me baby?” Now he was grinning again.
Twenty-Three
Mark Woo arrived at the airport precisely at seven a.m. and checked in at the desk. He needed to prepare his flight plan and get the plane fueled and checked for the trip to Seattle. As he looked over the map, he searched for Whitmore Gap. Dr. Renner had requested that he fly them over that area. It was where they would be filming their documentary. If he wanted to receive the customary gratuity for a chartered flight, he figured he should try to make her happy.
When he completed mapping out the flight path, he entered the coordinates into the computer and waited for an acknowledgement. It was nearly instantaneous. He stepped over to the printer, which had already begun to spit out the maps and other documents he would need.
He had prepared an invoice to present to the doctor as soon as she arrived. She’d pay half up front, in cash, for the round trip flight. Then all he had to do was fly them up there. He’d party with his friends in Seattle for a couple of weeks, and then fly them back. Easy.
There was a girl up in Seattle that he particularly looked forward to seeing again. He had met her there on a weekend the previous summer, and they had kept in touch via occasional emails, text messages or, less frequently, a phone call. Only a couple of weeks earlier, he had contacted her and they planned their meeting. It was a date he intended to keep, no matter what might happen to prevent it from coming together.
For now, he had to focus on prepping the plane. He checked the tires and, as he did the walk around, it was painfully obvious to him just how badly he had been beaten the other night. Each step, each twist of his body sent sharp pains through his muscles, and his blackened eye throbbed each time he bent over to check or pick something up.
The bruises on his body could be hidden beneath jeans and a long sleeved shirt, and he had tried to cover some of the bruises on his face with cheap makeup he kept around for just such situations, but there was not much he could do about the eye. Since his passengers were mostly college students, he figured they might be bold enough to ask questions about it. Fucking punks!
Even two days later, it seemed like there was scarcely a place on his body where the girl had not hit him or kicked him. It was possible that he had a cracked rib or two since he was experiencing sharp pains whenever he took a deep breath.
Everything would be cool in a couple of days, most of the bruises would fade, and he could get on with being the scoundrel that ‘would make his daddy proud.’ For now though, he was starting to sweat and, when he wiped his face, quite a lot of his makeup wiped off on his shirtsleeve. He wanted to touch it up, but he needed to get the checklist completed. Besides, the swelling could not be hidden with make up. He’d just have to live with it.
When he finished his flight prep and returned to the hangar to wait for his clients to arrive. He looked in a small mirror hanging there to see what his face needed. “Oh shit,” he said out loud as he realized it needed a lot of work.
Twenty-Four
Macy pulled into the parking lot and heard the gravel crunch under her tires as she found a space. She shut off the engine and sat for a few minutes staring out the window. This was her last chance for reflection. She could call everything off right here, right now. She could prevent any possible risk to her class if she just said the word.
“Fuck that!” She said out loud, striking the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. For her, there was no turning back. This trip was going to happen and she was going to confront her past head on, no matter what.
This was a small local airport. It was the one she preferred, since it would have been difficult for her students to board a commercial flight with anything that remotely resembled a weapon. Because of all of the restrictions, a hatchet would be a violation even if packed in a suitcase.
More important to her was the .38 she had hidden in her handbag. Without that little bit of security, she was not sure she could go through with the trip. She was almost certain that there would be no problems for her here, no screening or scanning to go through.
She felt confident as she went through the main gate and into the small terminal. She was carrying her large backpack, her handbag and another large canvas tote bag. She was not used to the weight of carrying all of these at once and struggled a bit under the load. The girl at the desk greeted her cheerily, “Welcome to Golden Community Flight Center, how may I help you this morning?”
Macy hated perky. “I’m Dr. Macy Renner, and I have a reservation for a chartered flight this morning with…”
“Pilot Mark Woo? He said there would be several people in the party. Will they be arriving soon?” Her smile widened.
“There will be eight to be precise. I’m sure they will be here soon. Do I have to wait for them to get here before I go to the hangar?” Was that really a piece of spinach in that girl’s teeth at this hour of the morning?
“Oh no, you can go on ahead to Hangar 18 where the plane is being readied. I just need to see your ID and have you sign in before you go. Oh, and will you be leaving the country? If you are, I need to look at your passport.”
Another spinach smile, was that from her breakfast? Macy sighed and dropped her cargo to the floor. She fished her wallet from her handbag and handed it to the clerk. As she set it on the counter, it rolled to one side and the barrel of her gun popped out of the top. The girl seemed oblivious as Macy pushed it back inside and removed the bag from the counter. Her heart was pounding in her throat as she waited for her ID to be returned.
“Thank you, Dr. Renner. Please sign here.”
Macy pulled the pen from the holder and quickly scratched her name on the designated line. “And here…” the girl pointed at the paper. Again Macy signed. The clerk t
urned the page and was about to ask her to sign again when Macy interrupted. “Excuse me, but this looks like a contract. I wasn’t told anything about signing any contracts.” Her tone was becoming terse.
“Oh no, Dr. Renner. It’s not a contract. It’s a release form. Ever since 9/11 we have our clients sign this form. It simply releases us from all obligation in the event of a…” The smile disappeared and the spinach was hidden from view.
“Crash!?” Macy interrupted.
“Well, I’m not sure about that. I mean, it releases us from any liability in the event that you might have other plans… you know, other than traveling. It is just a formality, I’m sure.” With that, the piece of spinach dislodged itself and flew in Macy’s direction.
Dodging the green projectile, Macy began to rant. “That’s pretty stupid when you consider that if I were a terrorist, and I was planning to use a plane as a missile, I wouldn’t discuss it with you in advance and a ‘release’ form sure would not stop me from doing so.”
“I am sorry, Doctor. I’m just doing as instructed. I don’t get to make the rules. Please?” Macy shook her head and signed the last line of the document.
“Do I get a copy of that?” Macy was starting to pick up her gear.
“Uh, no one has ever asked for one before. I guess so. I mean it’s really more for our use in case of any trouble.” The girl’s frustration was beginning to show and the perky attitude had left the building.
“There’s a first time for everything,” Macy said, preparing to lift the weight of the backpack. “I’ll wait.”
The girl took the paper and went into a back room. The copier was very noisy, but accomplished the deed. A minute later, Macy was holding her copy of the document. “Thank you. Now, which way did you say to the hangar?”
The girl didn’t speak, she just pointed at the door leading to the hangars, and then returned to her work. Macy lifted, then shifted the weight of the backpack and headed out the door. There was a concrete walkway that led down the front of the hangars and she looked into each one as she passed. Finally, she came to the hangar where Mark was sitting at a desk playing a video game on his computer. A large number 18 was painted above the open roll-up door.
“Mark Woo?” She called through the door. He put down the game controller and turned to look at her. “I believe we have a reservation, Mr. Woo, for a flight to Seattle?”
Mark stood and walked over to her, his hand extended to shake hers, and she obliged.
“Dr. Renner, I presume?”
Macy nodded.
“Mark Woo,” he continued. “Very nice to meet you. Bring your gear right over here, and we’ll stow it with the others when everyone arrives.”
Without a word, Macy carried her bags to the place he had indicated.
“Has anyone been added to your party since we spoke last?” Mark talked to her back as she walked toward the plane.
“What did you say?” She looked back over her shoulder at him.
“I said, ‘has anyone else been added to the passenger list since we spoke last?’ ”
“When was the last time we spoke?” She struggled to remove the pack and set it on the floor.
“I’m pretty sure it was last Friday.”
“Oh, if it was last Friday, then yes we have added one more, our camera operator or should I say videographer? Other than that, the team has not changed.”
“So that brings the total to eight? Did your assistant convey my payment terms?” He waited as she reached into her tote bag and pulled out a fat envelope.
“Yes, eight, that’s correct. I have the first half of your payment here, just as you requested. Could you give me a receipt please?” She held the envelope just out of his reach.
He stepped forward and took the envelope from her hand. Walking back to the desk, he opened the envelope and flipped through the twenty-dollar bills pretending to count them, then bent down over the desk and tore a piece of paper off of a pad.
“Do you want this made out to you or the university?” He held the pen over the paper.
“Make it out to me, please. Dr. Macy Renner.”
She watched as he wrote something on the paper. He dropped the pen and handed her the note.
“Uh, Mark, you don’t have something more official, like a receipt with your company info on it?”
“Here let me see it,” he said reaching for the paper. He opened a desk drawer and grabbed a rubber stamp and an inkpad. He slammed the stamp onto the pad, then on the paper. Holding it up to his mouth, he blew on it and handed it back to Macy. “Good enough?”
“I guess, if that’s all you have.” She looked at the paper with the stamp on it. The stamp did not seem like it was made for a transport company, but she couldn’t really make it out. Just then, she heard the muffled sounds of a conversation and turned to see Raj and Marcus carrying their gear through the large open doorway. They crossed the concrete floor toward the plane.
“We flyin’ in this bucket?” Marcus asked, dropping his gear on the floor next to Macy’s.
“Excuse me, but it’s not a bucket. These prop planes are much safer for flying up around the Northwest. Nothing worse than having a fat goose sucked into a jet engine to ruin your day. These props just make paté out of ’em if there’s an encounter.” Mark came up beside them.
“Whoa dawg! What happened to you? Your face looks like shit, man!” Marcus was chuckling as he checked out the swelling bruises on Mark’s face.
“Actually, it is none of your business… Dog” Mark’s tone was sharp, but as sore as he was, he really did not want another conflict.
Macy stepped forward to interrupt, “I’m sorry, Mark. Allow me to introduce you. This is Marcus and Raj, members of my team, and guys, this is Mark. He’ll be our pilot for the round trip.” The two men nodded in acknowledgement.
Unable to prevent himself from talking shit, Mark went on, “It’s none of your business, Marcus, but if you must know, I was up in the city the other night and two of your bro’s jumped me.”
Even though he was making it up, he pushed it further. “If you think I look bad, you should have seen those guys when I was finished with ’em.” He finished his lie by glaring at Marcus until he spoke.
“Oh, and I bet your puny Chinese ass fucked ’em up real good.” Marcus replied sarcastically. “What did you do use? Some Kung Fu movie shit on ’em, Bruce Lee?” Now he was grinning wide, and he could see Mark’s face turning red.
For a moment, no one said anything. It was Raj who broke the silence. “Come on guys, what are you going to do? Fight it out right here? This is not a time for violence. It will prove nothing, and then we have to travel together. I am not asking you to abandon your testosterone forever, just tone it down for the next couple of hours.”
“Ho-tep can handle it if Bruce Lee here can pull his panties out of his crack.” Marcus was still grinning as he swaggered a little.
“Come on guys. Marcus, Mark, how about if we just stay in our own corners for the rest of this trip? Then when we get back, you two can meet up somewhere and discuss this?” Macy was standing between them now, making her case and hoping it would tone things down.
“Hey guys, we made it!” Eddie yelled as he and Karla came in through the large hangar doors. “We saw Sherri pulling up just as we were leaving the... uh… office.”
As they walked toward the small group, they sensed something was not right. It might have been the way that everyone turned and looked at them without saying hello, but more likely the telling was in the glare of Marcus’ eyes and Mark’s reddened face.
“So what’s wrong anyway?” Karla set her large carry bag on the floor as Eddie, her virtual pack mule struggled with both of their backpacks. He had one on his back and one was carried as dead weight in front of him.
“It’s nothing. Just a little glitch in the program, but everything is fine now, isn’t it guys?” Macy gave Marcus the look of death.
“What? I was just playin’.” Marcus answered th
e look. “It was Bruce over there that lost it.” He tried to assume the look of innocence.
By now Eddie had freed himself from his burden and he stepped closer to the group. Macy made the introductions, “Mark, this is Eddie and Karla. Karla, Eddie, this is Mark.”
No sooner did the words leave her lips than Eddie exclaimed, “I thought his name was Bruce.” He shot a quick glance over at Marcus before turning his attention back to the pilot. “Wow, dude those are some serious bruises. It looks like somebody really kicked the shit out of you!”
“That’s what I’m sayin!” Marcus interjected. “Bruce here had a tussle with some of the boys, but we’re not supposed to talk about it. Right, Macy?” He looked at her with an mock expression of alarm, then smiled again.
Macy looked back at him in disbelief. He really was pushing her buttons, and she was just waiting for Mark to jump on him when the pilot spoke up, “Hey, that’s okay. I’m over it. I know the truth and really, Eddie, it’s a long story. Right now, we’d better get the gear loaded. Maybe you could give me a hand, Rick James.”
“Rick James? I’ll give you Rick James, bitch!” Marcus picked up one of the backpacks. “Where we taking it?”
Twenty-Five
Except for the soft chattering of the birds, the forest was quiet in the morning light. A variety of trees, mostly tall pines, surrounded the area allowing only brief shimmering thin rays of sunlight to cut through the canopy overhead.
The female creature rested against the disabled ship. Her mate was busy constructing a nesting site in the large circular clearing nearby. Such clearings were rare in these parts, but the aliens were unaware of their good fortune. They were focused entirely on the task at hand.
Spider-like, the male was extruding a ropey material from somewhere in the middle of his abdomen. He worked quietly with single-minded determination, connecting the sticky web-like material from tree to tree, spanning the width of the clearing and then weaving a circular pattern from cross brace to cross brace. The nest had to be strong enough to support the weight that would hang there.
