AII
Aria in Iceland
The plane landed, and the headphones from the Apple iPod mini, jostled in Aria's ear. She had anticipated the landing, but it had been much rougher than she had predicted. As the enormous jet skidded on the Icelandic runway, her fingers were clasped around the armrest of her seat.
"Take it easy," her father said to her from the next seat. "It's perfectly normal."
She turned to him for a second, and then turned away. She tried not to look at her father. When her eyes gazed upon his, she saw two faces: the face of her father, and the face of a blonde woman that was sucking on his tongue.
The blonde woman wasn't her mother. She was also not the wife of her father, but instead merely a cheap squeeze that had crawled her way into her life.
And now they were in Iceland, a new people to her and a new language to learn.
As the blonde woman had crawled her way in, Aria and her dark-haired father had crawled their way out.
They even left the country and were now under the Nordic Cross in a tiny island more desolate and isolated than the average penal colony.
Before Aria had felt like a teenage girl, an ordinary girl with ups and downs. She had friends that were irritating, but also extremely reliable, such as Ali, Emily, Spencer, and Hannah.
They had been so close, but there was something different with her friendship with Ali, for with Ali there was a feeling that bonded them all together.
The five of them had been inseparable, but then everything had changed. People had fallen off the face of the earth; others had reverted back into silence and solitude, and then there was Aria,
The one who had flown across the cold North Atlantic to a nation that was new to her in many bizarre ways.
After collecting her bags, her father and her exited the airport into the winds of Iceland.
II.
Aria stood next to her father, as they waited for a car to drive them to downtown Reykjavik.
"This is kind of nice," he mentioned to her.
"My feet are cold," she responded.
"Are you still upset with me?" He asked.
"Did you really just ask that?" Aria responded with a question of her own.
"Right," her father answered, knowing that defeat would follow if he pursued any further.
A man walked up next to them to wait for a car, and Aria looked at him as she felt a sense of discomfort. Her eyes quickly scanned his body and clothing quickly. His facial features looked like an Asian man, but there was something different about him.
His hair was black as the winter's night, but his skin was light. His clothes stood out surprisingly, for they were so simple. There was as black overcoat that ran along his body. It had metal buckles running up and down, almost as if he was out of the "Blade Trilogy." His shirt was also black underneath, and there were two leather belts that ran along his chest, which Aria could not see any more of.
The man looked as if he was might have also been out of a kung fu movie, so she turned away quickly. She had the slight fear that he would pull a sword out of his overcoat and cut her down if she stared too much.
A car emerged from the distance of the terminal and wheeled up in front of them. The man in the overcoat did not hesitate to cut in line, and hop inside the car before Aria and her father could notice.
"Hey, anyone taught you how to act in public?" Her father shouted in English; although, he was fluent in Icelandic. "So that was Nordic hospitality at it's finest."
"It's fine dad," said Aria as she noticed something her father missed.
A piece of notebook paper had fallen from the man's pocket as he had jumped swiftly into the car.
Aria took a step forward and picked it off the asphalt.
"Aria, leave it alone," her father instructed.
"I was just preventing littering," she bluffed. "Forgive me for caring about the environment."
Aria folded the paper into her pocket without a glance, pretending she wasn't interested.
III.
Two hours later, Aria sat in a new room, in a new house where her father had relocated them. Their home was on the outskirts of Reykjavik, in a mildly suburban townhouse, overlooking many other mildly suburban townhouses.
This was the first time Aria was alone, and she sat down on her new uncomfortable bed in the blank room.
She unfolded the paper, the man in black had dropped and finally read it over.
"Sunrise: 9/15/09: Honor will triumph: Do not Focus on the Darkness."
That series of words was followed by Chinese characters, which there was no chance she could recognize.
Aria checked her phone, and saw that the date was 9/14/09.
IV
Four minutes in Iceland, and already things had become weird. It was weird enough to almost forget all the things that had happened between her father and her friends. But there was one thing she could net let go of.
Her friend Alison.
Ali was in her mind right now. She was wondering. What would Ali do?
Aria began to imagine Ali sitting in the room right next to her. Aria was on the bed, and Ali would be standing in front of the door.
"You know what you want Aria," she would say.
"What's that?" Aria asked.
"You're going to go find him," Ali continued.
"I can't do that," countered Aria. "All it says is the date, something about honor and the sunrise. I don't even know where to begin."
"Tisk tisk Aria," Ali teased. "You know you're going to go. You can't keep away. You're just as bad a race dog chasing a metal rabbit."
Aria knew there was some truth in that.
"Where do I find him?" She asked.
"Read the note again," Ali would say.
"Sunrise: 9/15/09: Honor will triumph: Do not Focus on the Darkness," Aria read out loud.
"What do you see?"
"The word Focus is capitalized when it shouldn't be," said Aria. "So is the word Darkness. All the capitals are Sunrise: Honor: Do Focus Darkness."
"That doesn't make any sense now does it?"
Aria could practically hear Ali's voice as she imagined her guiding these instructions.
"Focus Darkness," Aria went to back to square one.
"Good girl," Ali teased. "First, look at it in a different way. Now find out what it means in Icelandic. Then, Google it on your phone."
"Wow," Aria almost exclaimed. "Good thinking Ali. I mean, thanks."
Just then Aria had realized the room was empty, but it had felt so real. The memories of Ali were just so real.
Aria grabbed her newest phone, which was customized for the nation of Iceland. She translated the words to "EinblĂna Myrkrinu." Then, as she searched nothing came up.
As she thought it over, she knew Ali wanted her to look things over differently.
Aria then typed in the words "Dark Focus," which lead her to "Dimma Fokus."
"Dimma Fokus," she read to herself. "Sounds like screwed up English."
The search on Google-Iceland led her to the name of a Tattoo parlor. The destination of the man in black had been revealed. He was to meet someone at the tattoo parlor at sunrise.
And she never would have known without Ali.
But Ali wasn't in the room. She was gone, lost and disappeared. Then, why did it feel so real when Aria imagined her.
V
The night was awful. Aria sat in her room on the bed. She wasn't even under the covers. She had dressed herself around 3 A.M, but she couldn't sleep at all. It was painful waiting for the time to tick by.
It was September, and thankfully, the night in Iceland would be short. It was after 4 A.M, so she would be out the window of her first floor bedroom and off into the cold late summer morning of Iceland. Although, it was before September 21st, Aria felt like she was facing winter winds.
The tattoo parlor was in walking distance, and Aria almost ran there. She was moving quickly, and she wasn't afraid of standing out because no one was around at this time.
"Well, I'm glad to see you in a hurry," she heard Ali's voice again.
"You were the one who encouraged me to go," she answered back.
"Really," Ali's voice felt teasing again. "It was your decision, and those are your two legs in motion Aria. But don't worry, I bet you and I will have some fun in Iceland. You've only been here for 12 hours, and already you're up to something. It's nice to know that at least one of my friends is never dull."
The streets became closer together, and the sun was just starting to spread across the lands of Reyjavik's outskirts. There was traffic now running around on the streets, and the houses had so many different colors.
Iceland was brighter than Aria had imagined, and she now walked slower in her winter coat, which started to feel a little warm.
The Dark Focus tattoo parlor was exactly where it was supposed to be. And Aria now felt the need to move slower. She thought Ali would agree.
She stood on the sidewalk of the street, and waited as the cars passed by. Suddenly, there he was. It was almost perfect timing. In a way, it was too perfect. Aria began to feel a sense of chill, and it was not from the Icelandic air.
The man in black, possibly of Asian decent walked into the parlor, and Aria crept closer.
As she looked through the filthy window his back was to her.
The parlor was empty, and there were two couches, and a stack of magazines on a beaten up coffee table.
She watched through the filthy glass as the man knelt to the floor. He was saying something…chanting it, but she wasn't able to make it out. It probably wasn't even in English.
Then the wind began to blow.
The magazines fell to the floor in the tattoo parlor, and the door to the building rattled.
"It's not nice to follow people Aria," she heard the man's voice.
Aria turned and sure enough the man in black was standing behind her. She then peered through the glass, and learned that he was definitely still kneeling by the couch. But it was the same man. The same black clothes, the same leather straps that ran across his chest, it was exactly the same person.
But that was not possible.
"It was not wise of you to be here," said the man in black, before he took her by the shoulders and pushed her inside.
To be Continued...