by Stephen King
The man glanced at Brian and the others for a moment, and his mouth tightened nervously. It was the blood, Brian supposed. He, Laurel, and Bethany had all suffered nosebleeds. The man tightened his grip on their hands and began to pull them away fast. “Yes, great. Now help me look for your mother. What a mess this turned out to be.”
“But they weren’t there before!” the little boy protested. “They—” Then they were gone into the hurrying crowds.
Brian glanced up at the monitors and noted the time as 4:17 A.M.
Too many people here, he thought, and I bet I know why.
As if to confirm this, the overhead speaker blared: “All eastbound flights out of Los Angeles International Airport continue to be delayed because of unusual weather patterns over the Mojave Desert. We are sorry for this inconvenience, but ask for your patience and understanding while this safety precaution is in force. Repeat: all eastbound flights...”
Unusual weather patterns, Brian thought. Oh yeah. Strangest goddam weather patterns ever.
Laurel turned to Brian and looked up into his face. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she made no effort to wipe them away. “Did you hear her? Did you hear what that little girl said?”
“Yes.”
“Is that what we are, Brian? The new people? Do you think that’s what we are?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “but that’s what it feels like.”
“That was wonderful,” Albert said. “My God, that was the most wonderful thing.”
“Totally tubular!” Bethany yelled happily, and then began to clap out “Let’s Go” again.
“What do we do now, Brian?” Bob asked. “Any ideas?”
Brian glanced around at the choked boarding area and said, “I think I want to go outside. Breathe some fresh air. And look at the sky.”
“Shouldn’t we inform the authorities of what”
“We will,” Brian said. “But the sky first.”
“And maybe something to eat on the way?” Rudy asked hopefully.
Brian laughed. “Why not?”
“My watch has stopped,” Bethany said.
Brian looked down at his wrist and saw that his watch had also stopped. All their watches had stopped.
Brian took his off, dropped it indifferently to the floor, and put his arm around Laurel’s waist. “Let’s blow this joint,” he said. “Unless any of you want to wait for the next flight east?”
“Not today,” Laurel said, “but soon. All the way to England. There’s a man I have to see in...” For one horrible moment the name wouldn’t come to her... and then it did. “Fluting,” she said. “Ask anyone along the High Street. The old folks still just call him the gaffer.”
“What are you talking about?” Albert asked.
“Daisies,” she said, and laughed. “I think I’m talking about daisies. Come on — let’s go.”
Bob grinned widely, exposing baby-pink gums. “As for me, I think that the next time I have to go to Boston, I’ll take the train.”
Laurel toed Brian’s watch and asked, “Are you sure you don’t want that? It looks expensive.”
Brian grinned, shook his head, and kissed her forehead. The smell of her hair was amazingly sweet. He felt more than good; he felt reborn, every inch of him new and fresh and unmarked by the world. He felt, in fact, that if he spread his arms, he would be able to fly without the aid of engines. “Not at all,” he said. “I know what time it is.”
“Oh? And what time is that?”
“It’s half past now.”
Albert clapped him on the back.
They left the boarding lounge in a group, weaving their way through the disgruntled clots of delayed passengers. A good many of these looked curiously after them, and not just because some of them appeared to have recently suffered nosebleeds, or because they were laughing their way through so many angry, inconvenienced people.
They looked because the six people seemed somehow brighter than anyone else in the crowded lounge.
More actual.
More there.
Shooting stars only, Brian thought, and suddenly remembered that there was one passenger still back on the plane — the man with the black beard. This is one hangover that guy will never forget, Brian thought, grinning. He swept Laurel into a run. She laughed and hugged him.
The six of them ran down the concourse together toward the escalators and all the outside world beyond.
FB2 document info
Document ID: 0506a229-0d89-4524-b246-c1ac4fb2e153
Document version: 1.1
Document creation date: 2008-09-12
Created using: doc2fb, FB Editor v2.0 software
Document authors :
Sclex
Source URLs :
irc.undernet.org, #bookz
Document history:
Version 1.0 — creating FB2 by Sclex — 12.09.2008.
Version 1.1 — errors fixing by Sclex — 01.03.2009.
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