Page 20 of Hell In A Handbasket
“Sir?” The flight attendant growls from the front of the plane, drawing every passenger’s eye as she scowls at Cato. “Please sit down until we’ve pulled up at our gate.”
“What gate? It’s a fuckin’ shack. Your airport is smaller than my family’s pool house.”
“But I bet the dildo cameras are regulation size.” Tim reaches forward and hooks Cato’s arm, jerking him back into his seat. “Make a fuss, and they’ll check your butthole again. You do that twice in one day, and I’ll start to assume you like it.”
I clap my hand to my mouth and stifle my childish giggles.
“It’s a freakin’ golf cart.” Aubree leans in to Fletch’s space, gawking out the side window. “Look! It’s kinda like the carts at Copeland Airport, but… not. It’s different.”
“Sera’s not replying,” Fletch groans. “Why do you think she’s not replying?”
“Because she’s working!” The very moment the plane wheels stop moving, and the seatbelt light extinguishes, I whip it off and snag my case file, then I stand—with nowhere to go until my row buddies get up. “We’re one hour ahead of Copeland, which means it’s only two o’clock back home. Fifi will still be at the office, so unless she sends you texts throughout the day to update you on every freakin’ step she takes, don’t expect a response for another hour, at least.” I look at Archer and lift my chin. “Move, please.”
“No one’s getting off faster just because they push into the aisle, Mayet. The doors open when they open.”
“Uh-huh. And when they open, I’d like to get off this dirty tin can before the recycled air kills me with someone else’s germs.” I lean into his space and kiss his lips. “I never would have guessed this about myself, but it turns out Ireallyprefer private jet travel. Commercial is too…” I look out at everyone else who rushes from their seats. “People-y.”
“Door’s open.” Aubree climbs over Tim’s legs and stumbles into the aisle, and though we all know she has luggage in the bin above, she muscles her way through the crowd and leaves us behind.
“She hates flying.” Sighing, though it’s more of awelp, time to get moving,and not anI’m sick of this shit, Tim releases his belt and moves into the aisle to get their bags. “She didn’t puke, though, so that’s a positive.”
“I wasn’t expecting to land somewhere that had cows.” I glance out the window again and watch the giant pre-steaks calmly chew their way through life. Unbothered by the rainbow woman who traverses the steel stairs with shaking legs and stumbles onto the ground outside. Unfazed by the actual plane that came within thirty feet of their grass. This is just… this is their life, I suppose. “I don’t see any civilization. Where are the buildings?”
“Maybe there are none taller than one or two stories.” Archer takes my hand and follows Cato into the aisle, then he pulls down a single carry-on case that contains enough clothes for us both for the weekend, then a cross-body bag that contains my meds.
My cynicism ensured I packed enough to last longer than a day.
“It’s kinda windy out there.” Cato snatches down his bag and tilts his head left—crack—then right—crack. But then he flashes a teasing smile and gestures toward the windows again.
I turn and watch with narrowed eyes as Aubree approaches the grassy area, one hand outstretched like she thinks the cows are here for us to pet. The fact that her skirt flaps in the wind and shows off a portion of her thighs is probably why Cato stares.
“This is going to be alongcouple of days.” I shake my head and start along the aisle in Archer’s wake. When a passenger sneezes without covering their face, I close my lips and eyes and pass through their air, and when another coughs, I do the same.
Dammit, I’ve had my allotment of sickness this year.
“Everyone needs to wash their hands as soon as we get off.” I search the contents of my bag and tug out a small bottle of sanitizer, then smiling at the flight attendant as we pass, I stop at the top of the stairs and breathe fresh air for the first time in a few hours.
Good lord, this fresh air is even better than the regular Copeland fresh air.
“Smells like flowers,” I sigh. “And like… water.”
“We flew over a massive lake as we were coming in.” Archer maneuvers the stairs while holding our case, my hand, and the handrail all at once.He’s a multifaceted man. “I can smell the moisture in the air. Kinda reminds me of the waterfalls back home.”
“It does.” I take care not to stumble since rolling down a flight of steel steps and landing on tar at the bottom will mean spending the night in a small-town hospital. “I don’t hate it,” I decide. “The smell. It’s fresh and clean, which is better than the clean I smell inside my building.”
“The office air is sanitized. Careful.” He stops at the bottom and grips my hand until my feet move from steel to ground, and then he sets our case on its wheels, draping his arm over my shoulders. “We’re kinda spoiled with big city convenience, but there’s a certain charm that comes with small towns, don’t you think?”
“I couldn’t live here. But a weekend visit to dig up a skeleton sounds totally perfect.”
He laughs, shaking his head and following my lead as I move in Aubree’s direction. “You gonna ride the cows? See if you can stay on for your eight seconds?”
“Not even if you paid me a billion dollars.” While Fletch, Cato, and Tim meander away from the plane, Fletch’s phone and hand thrust high in the air in search of reception, I come to a stop on Aubree’s left, shoulder to shoulder with the blonde whose green face slowly returns to its normal color. “You didn’t puke, Doctor Emeri. Proud of you.”
“I’d rather poke through a liquified brain every day for the rest of my life than sit on a plane like this one ever again.”
“It wasn’t so bad.”
“It wasn’t even a proper big commercial plane. Like the airbuses that fly from coast to coast. And it wasn’t a fancy private jet, like the kind Felix uses.”
