FATE prologue
Jude gazed out of the car window as her taxi came to a stop outside her destination.
"This good enough for you honey?"
The taxi driver turned round to the backseat where she was sat. Jude snapped out of her daydream. It had been quite a long car ride-and a very emotional day.
"Yea, yea here's a fine thanks," she replied.
She handed him the appropriate fare and climbed out, getting her suitcase out of the trunk and grabbing herself a baggage trolley. The glossy white tiled floor made her eyes hurt as she entered the terminal and queued up to check-in. The queue was long, and consisted ironically of headache inducers: screaming babies, mothers shouting, children running around in between the barriers, slipping over. Jude closed her eyes and momentarily considered going back; chickening out. I can't she told herself. I have to do this.
"Who's next please?"
The lady at desk 3 called. Jude stepped forward and pushed her trolley up to the desk. She handed her tickets over and rested a tired arm on the side.
"I expect you'll be glad to get on the flight and get some rest," the lady said. Jude looked at her.
"You look tired," the lady said softly.
Jude half-smiled and rubbed her forehead. "Yea, it's, um, it's been a tiring day."
"Well, if you'd just like to place your baggage on the conveyor belt, you can go and sit in the departure lounge and get some coffee before your flight," the lady said.
Jude picked up her luggage and watched it go onto the conveyor belt and disappear past the plastic tassels hanging down. She slung her brown leather rucksack-her hand luggage-over her shoulder and took her tickets.
"Have a nice flight," the lady said. "Next please!"
*
"Last call for flight 213," the intercom spoke. Jude stirred.
"Last call for flight 213," the intercom repeated. Jude sat up and looked around. She was slumped over her cafe table, her tenth cup of coffee stone cold, her magazine was open page 15, the corner crumpled where she'd been laying on it. Flight 213. She checked her ticket. Last call.
Her chair screeched on the tiles as she began running for the gate, her rucksack bashing against her side as she ran. Which gate? She spotted the board and went to check her gate number. Gate 10. Her running increased as her chest became tight and her throat hurt. She dodged past people and came to a halt outside of Gate 10.
What am I doing? She thought. Maybe there was a reason I missed the call for the flight. Maybe -
"Are you for the last call for flight 213?"
Jude glanced up at the woman.
"Miss? May I have your ticket please?"
Jude handed her ticket over. I have to go back.
"You're the last for the flight, make sure you hurry," the woman said.
I have to go back.
"I'm going back," Jude whispered thinking a loud.
"I'm sorry ma'm, what did you say?" the woman said.
"I have to go back," Jude repeated, a bit louder this time, grabbing her ticket and turning back, running even faster.
"Miss?" the woman called.
Jude carried on running.
"Miss!"
Jude ran all the way down the escalator, past the departure lounge, into the check-in and out into the open air by the taxi stand. She signalled for the next taxi, which gladly pulled up in the bay. She clambered in the back seat and threw her rucksack onto the seat next to her.
"Where to?" the driver asked.
Jude took a deep breath. "Home."
