Beginning notes: Twilight and its sequels and characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. Other plots, abilities, and other stuff are taken (in part) from [Prototype].
-Chapter 1: Pilot-
The constant blaring of the jet engines saturated the cargo hold with a warm, white noise as I reclined against the curved metal hull of the plane. My eyes were closed, but I wasn't asleep; I just couldn't bear the thought of staring at the sea of black luggage or the plain-grey walls that surrounded me for another minute. I should have brought my iPod.
Another gust of wind hit my right side, scattering my long hair into my face, and I sighed under my breath in frustration. A bubble of irritation rose in my chest from my less-than-coach seating and I pressed my hands against the chilled metal of the plane, letting it soothe me back into a relaxed state. Having one of my episodes in such a confined space wouldn't be a good idea.
Above my head – barely heard over the roaring engines – I could hear the trolley rolling down the aisle of the plane, no doubt stuffed with those pathetically-small bags of peanuts and Barbie-sized wine bottles. Scenes from a movie I had never watched – Home Alone – played in my head; clinking silverware and napkin tucking in first class.
"Put it in your purse," I mumbled along with my mental-movie. Did they show movies on plane rides? I couldn't remember. They should, though; it had to be just as boring for the real customers as it was for the freeloader below their feet. What were they doing up there?
I could hear whispers and the occasional back and forth between passenger and stewardess, but for the most part it was as quiet as a library. Well, apart from the engines – they didn't have those in libraries. I imagined what it must be like to be a first class passenger – or even coach. The cushioned seats and trickles of food and drink arriving on trolleys. I wished I had been able to buy a ticket instead of hiding here, below.
It wasn't about the money, though. That was easy enough to steal – or hell, even to earn. It was much easier to save or steal up the appropriate amount of cash to board a plane than it was to sneak on board, past the security guards and maintenance crews and employees checking luggage. Airport security was not easy to get around.
And that was exactly why I couldn't pay for a ticket. It was a bit backward, I knew, and maybe I was being a bit paranoid about the whole thing. But…I couldn't risk getting caught; nothing good could come of that.
My mind went to dark places as I sat there in that cargo hold, remembering my mother crying out – remembering me crying out – and not being strong enough to do anything about it. Terrorism was nothing new to America, but when it knocks down the door and kills all your friends you tend to give it your full attention. Too little, too late.
Turbulence interrupted my thoughts and I leaned forward as I felt the plane shift. Another cold burst of wind hit and the hull shuddered as the landing gear was lowered. I let out a relieved sigh and used the low-hanging metal bar to brace myself with as I stood up. The luggage rocked and rattled as the plane touched down on the runway and my grip increased as the momentum threatened to push me forward.
Soon the plane came to a stop and I could hear the walkway being connected to the outside of the plane for the passengers. The engines slowed to a halt and off in the distance the motor of a smaller vehicle could be heard – probably one of those luggage collectors. I pulled the hood of my dark grey hoodie over my head and secured my backpack as I prepared to depart the aircraft.
I scrambled forward, darting through the opening I created when I snuck aboard and crouching down near one of the landing gear slots. I halted my breathing and strained my ears, waiting for an opening so I could slip away unnoticed. There were no footsteps nearby, though I could hear a group of workers coming from off in the distance.
A metallic latching sound echoed around the open hull and the air current shifted, letting me know the luggage hatch was opened and the only human being nearby wouldn't be able to see me escape. I took a breath and leaped through the landing gear hatch, landing on the pavement with a soft thud in a crouch as the air rushed out of my lungs from the impact.
I was immediately in motion, nearly a streaking blur as I sprinted across the tarmac and vaulted up the side of the airport wall. I landed silently on the large, flowing rooftop, and started to dart across the rolling hills with more care and grace. I had to make sure no one heard my steps from inside the terminal.
I crouched at the edge of the roof, peering out over the steady trickle of cars and people flow through the drop off lane – more like drop off street. I frowned; there were too many people around to jump down from my perch. My head swiveled up, and I cracked a smile as I caught sight of the multi-level car park that stood right across the street, looming half a story above the roof level of the airport.
My breathing paused and my senses sharpened as I scoped out the parking garage that served as the opposite side to the trench that was the unloading street for the airport. Luckily, this was Washington, so most of the people parking their cars don't want to leave them on the top level, exposed to the ever-present torrents of rain. The angle of the garage was too steep for me to get a look, but I couldn't hear any footsteps or engines running on the top level.
I took three strides backward and crouched low in a racing position, my hands nearly brushing the tips of my sneakers as I paused for a moment. My muscles bunched as I lunged forward in a short burst of speed and sprung up into the air, crossing the wide gap of intermittent traffic and making solid contact with the side of the garage.
I mentally cursed as my fingers dug into the concrete. In my effort to not overshoot the leap, I had instead undershot it, leaving me very exposed on the side of a concrete beam. I recovered quickly, scrambling up the side of the narrow wall and flipping over the metal railing that served as a safety wall for the upper level of the parking garage.
I instinctively froze, taking in my surroundings again. I was correct in my assumption, there were no people up here on the top level. Only a couple cars were parked here, pushed far away from the ramp leading down to the next level.
A sigh of relief rushed out of me and I let my shoulders sag and straightened up out of my crouch. I turned around and peered over the concrete barricade, searching for anyone on the street below who saw a girl leap across the street and climb a concrete wall like Spider-Man. There was nothing to see, though. Cars continued to unload passengers and people came and went, their heads bowed down as they continued on in ignorant bliss.
I pulled my hood down and adjusted my backpack as I started down the stairs, heading for the ground level. I walked slowly, not in any hurry, but before I knew it I was pushing past the stairwell door and heading for the crosswalk. On my way across, a taxi van honked at me for walking so leisurely in the crosswalk, but I paid him no mind. The airport didn't seem so…intimidating from outside of it, where I could see inside the glass doors and into one of the entryway lobbies.
My gaze landed on a cluster of payphones down the sidewalk, and I walked over to them. I pulled the necessary change out of the front pocket of my backpack, and deposited them into the payphone. I pushed the square, metal numbers in the correct sequence and held the phone to my ear, listening to the ringing sound in silence.
"Forks Police Station," A distracted voice said through the receiver. "This is Deputy Marks, how may I help you?"
"Is Charlie there?" I asked.
"Uh…yeah, hold on; I'll transfer you," Deputy Marks said. "Hey, Chief, it's for you!" I heard a faint reply, though it was indistinguishable.
I smiled into the phone, remembering the police station in Forks. The entirety of it was nearly a single room – no bigger than Charlie's house – separated by partitions. Charlie was one of the only few who had an office – which was more of a large closet with a window than an actual office.
Suffice it to say, Forks was not a very dangerous town to live in, and as such the police force was rather small. Charlie took his job seriously, though; he was a cop through-and-through.
"Chief Swan," Charlie answered suddenly.
"Hi, dad," I spoke into the receiver.
"Bella?" Charlie's voice sounded surprised. "Is that you?"
"Yeah, dad," I replied softly. "I caught a plane here a few days early. It was…cheaper." I cringed into the phone from my lie and was grateful Charlie couldn't see my face.
"Oh," Charlie said back. "Uh…well it'll take me a while to get over to Seattle, Bells. Why didn't you call me before you boarded?"
Because I didn't know which plane I would hitch a ride on and couldn't have you show up waiting for me to walk out of the airport. Of course, I couldn't tell him that; he wouldn't understand.
"I just…forgot," I said lamely. "It's just…with the funeral and all, things just slipped my mind."
Charlie sighed into the phone. "I understand, Bells," he said. There was a pause, and he spoke again. "Listen, I can get out of here early and be there in about five hours. Sit tight and get something to eat from the airport; I'll be there soon…ish."
My insides quivered at the thought of…food, and I swallowed hard. My head fell as I took stock of how tired I was. The urge to feed was getting harder and harder to resist, and the mental picture of myself in a car with Charlie for four hours made me rethink my plan. I wouldn't hurt my own father; not if I could help it.
"No, dad, that's alright," I began. "I'm really tired from the flight and I have more than enough money for a hotel room for the night. I'll take a cab to Port Angeles tomorrow and you can pick me up from there at about noon. How does that sound?" I hated to lie to him, but there were just some things I couldn't tell my father.
"I don't know, Bells," Charlie said, not convinced.
"You can't just take off of work for eight hours. Who would protect the people of Forks?" I jested.
"Ha, right," Charlie snorted into the phone. He sighed, and I could hear the phone shift on his ear. "Alright. But be careful, Bella. Go get a hotel room – stay there – and I'll pick you up tomorrow at…the Port Angeles Walmart? Is that alright?"
"I'll be there," I confirmed. "Love you."
"Love you, too, Bella," he said before he hung up the phone.
I clicked the payphone back onto the receiver and took a step back, tilting my head up to look at the stormy sky. The constant stream of clouds crawled slowly above my head, looking like they could begin to release a torrent of water at any time. I pulled my hood back over my head and shoved my hands in my pockets, crossing the street and heading toward the center of the city.
End notes: No, Bella's not a vampire. You'll figure everything out a bit later; don't you worry, now.
Updates on this one will probably be slow going, at least until Symbiosis is finished and I've updated Unstoppable Force and posted a few more chapters for it.
If you like this story, review it and let me know, and I'll add chapters as soon as I can.