If it's not obvious, I have never been out of the USA (except for one particularly interesting trip to Canada) so don't take my word on any of these settings- I'm totally making this stuff up.
Yet another chapter in which I bother crazyshay77 with the same thing over and over again- so thanks a zillion to her. Everyone reading this needs to go read her stories, review, follow, fave, all that shebang and make her happy because I bug her a lot… and she deserves it.
Not Ally Carter. Obviously.
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Solomon's words were all I needed to get me moving. Not even half an hour after talking to him, I found myself in the Cleveland international airport, trying to ignore the suspicious stares from ticket-lady.
"No, it has to be today."
"Sir, there are no immediate flights to-"
"It doesn't have to be a direct flight; I just need to be there!" After noticing the elevated tone of my voice, I cringed. Sneaking a glance over my shoulder to the winding line behind me, I saw that no one noticed- or no one cared. I leaned onto the counter and whispered, "Please- if there's anything you can do. My uncle is getting married and he'll kill me if I'm not there for the rehearsal dinner." She raised her eyebrow raised questioningly, but continued to type on her computer.
"I have a flight to Madrid, Spain in three hours. From there, a connecting flight through Istanbul, Turkey, and the final leg of the trip will bring you to Baku, Azerbaijan." She hesitated, looking up from her computer for a split second. "But, of course, that will be almost three thousand-"
"I'll take it." Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped. Before she could retort, I placed the first credit card on the counter. "Uncle's paying for it."
The woman only looked at me suspiciously for a second before printing off the ticket and giving it to me. Wiping her doubt off her face, she shrugged. "Enjoy your flight, sir." I took a deep breath and turned, avoiding the eyes of impatient lobby-dwellers.
And that's how I found myself on a 12-hour flight to Madrid. For the entire duration, I was staring at the back of a woman's head, wondering why she was fidgeting. After a few hours, I realized it was because she fractured her hip and it was painful to sit in almost any position. When that was cleared up, I noticed a suspicious bulge under the beverage cart that rolled by every half hour. That was revealed to be a bottle of wine that wouldn't fit in the ice bucket. The sound of yelling from business class was actually from the movie playing. Horribly portrayed spies jumping off buildings and participating in shoot outs meant for a lot of noise.
In reality, spies traveled a lot undercover and tended to be suspicious of everything happening around them. Like me.
Because I was so obsessed with seeing threats that weren't there, I got absolutely no sleep. Sleeping in Mr. Jones's apartment wasn't much, but I did get a few hours of decent rest. Here, my internal clock said I had stayed up until four in the morning, but Madrid was already working on 10:00 am.
I wished I could've slept- really, I did. I had no reason to suspect anything was going to happen on this flight, yet I found my eyes glued open for the rest of the trip. My body said "sleep" but my brain heard "observe". I knew it would bite me later, but I stayed awake, the landing in Azerbaijan marking the 30th sleepless hour.
When I stepped off the plane, the bright sun nearly blinded my tired eyes. But just because I was exhausted didn't mean everyone else was. In fact, the people were trying to push past me and get indoors as fast as possible, but I was standing in the way. They were all in a hurry, and I decided to walk a bit faster, just so I could get to where I needed to be faster.
After an excruciatingly slow trip through customs and security, I was back out into the bustling streets of Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan. The roads were busy, cars switching lanes wherever they pleased, ignoring the lines that shaped the lanes.
As a yawn escaped my lips, I held my hand outward and waved in attempt to catch a taxi. A greenish car with the "TAXI" painted on its side squealed to a stop in front of me. Its front wheel hit the curb, barely stopping a foot from my feet. The man inside rolled down his window and asked in Azeri, "Where do you want to go?"
It took a few extra seconds to rack my brain for the native language, but I came up with "South to the big bridge." I winced, realizing how chopped my accent was. The driver seemed to understand, because he responded with "Alyans körpü?"
Alliance Bridge. "Yeah. That one." The driver nodded and I entered his cab, slamming the door behind me.
Before he returned to the hazardous traffic, I deposited 30 manats to the center console. Back in the airport, I traded 100 US dollars for the native currency, hoping it'd be enough to get me through the trip. As I stuffed the rest of my cash back into my backpack, the car zipped back into the busy street, nearly rear-ending another taxi. My body was slammed onto the backrest, my head following quickly. I grasped over my shoulder for a seat belt and found the strap. Drawing it across my torso, I braced my body for the harsh jerking that I'd have to endure until I reached the southern half of the country.
And it didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with the break-neck speed we were travelling, but it's not like my accelerated heartbeat and white knuckles would be any proof. Once we were there, I released my death grip on the seat belt and mumbled, "Keep the change," as I hastily exited the deathtrap on wheels. The car rocketed back into traffic, the speed slamming the door and nearly amputating my fingers in the process.
The road wasn't that crowded; cars speeded as they pleased, but it wasn't barren. As my eyes followed the road towards the bridge, it became more and more congested. In fact, the bridge formed a bottleneck, and traffic was almost at a stand-still.
Not good. In fact, that was probably the worst thing that could be happening.
I was a few hundred feet from the bridge, and I couldn't see very far. I had no idea when, or how, or even where the Circle would attack from. All I knew is that it was today and they had a load of grenades stashed away somewhere. It wasn't much. Sure, I was "in" the Circle, but it's not like they trusted me a whole lot or even gave me adequate information.
I was exhausted; I hadn't slept in the past day or two, and now was definitely not the time to correct that. The afternoon sun glinted off the greenish-blue water, clouds rolled lazily in the sky, and there was a faint breeze. Perfect napping weather. Too bad for me.
The river's shores were lined with rocks, and men, women, and children sat upon them. Some had fishing poles, others had picnic baskets. They all looked pretty comfortable, and I needed a rest, so I sat on a rock particularly close to the water.
I rolled up the hem of my jeans and took off my shoes, setting them in my backpack beside me. Dipping my toes into the water, little silver fish swarmed away from my feet, fleeing to deeper waters. The water was cool and relatively clean, and I felt almost relaxed. Almost.
My head was throbbing, both from the insomnia and from the buildup of anxiety. As minutes ticked by, the bridge just became more and more jammed, potentially maximizing casualties. Hundreds of people were going to die, and what was I doing? Trying to relax.
Guiltily, I withdrew my feet from the water and tucked them under my legs, sitting Indian style. I placed my head in my hands and stayed quiet, thinking. Was anything I was doing actually worthwhile? Would any of this matter? The Circle was going to get what they wanted, regardless of how many people stood in their way. I remembered the words "Help take down the Circle." Solomon had said that to me so long ago, but in the long run, would any of these little things matter? There was nothing I could do to stop this demolition- I couldn't save anybody. I wallowed in self-pity and guilt for several minutes, bottling up all my emotions. Eventually I got tired of feeling bad for myself, you know- since a lot of people were going to die and my existential crisis was irrelevant, put my shoes back on, and climbed the rocks, away from the little fish that obviously didn't want me there.
I chose a dark gray rock, someone's initials carved into its surface, and sat back down. That's where I remained there for a while- for who knows how long, sitting on the rock and watching the people go about their days. I saw the tide come in and a few families leave, leaving me along with the fishermen. The sun was slowly setting, the sky turning a pinkish orange, the clouds gaining a purplish tinge. Everything was calm. The gulls were flying overhead and the little fish continued to flee the shallow waters whenever there was the slightest movement.
It was so peaceful, and I was so tired. My eyes began to droop and my breathing began to even out. Between the lack of sleep in the past days and the absolute calm surrounding me, I started to fall asleep.
But then I heard the blast.
I felt the reverberations shoot through the ground, the tremors powerful even at my distance. As I shakily rose to my feet, I saw the red puff of burning debris shoot up into the sky, staining the clouds. The steel rails on the bridge shook violently before disconnecting from the bridge and plummeting to the river below. Though the first to fall, the rails were not of any concern. The legs of the bridge- cracked, bent, the fissures widening and reaching closer and closer to the lapping waves below- they were the real problem.
The bridge could no longer hold itself up, and it began to crumble. Through the ringing in my ears, I could hear the shrieks. Pleading, begging, hopeless screams of the people trapped in smoldering cars rang out as the vehicles fell with the chunks of concrete. The orange flames traveled faster than the cars could drive to shore, catching on anything it could touch. It spread in no time, orange, red and yellow overtaking the landscape. But faster than that- the bridge just kept collapsing onto itself, buckling under the pressure. Time was in slow motion, but it was all over in seconds. Before I could comprehend anything, the entirety of the bridge was in the water, smoke rising and screams fading.
All that was left standing was a single pillar closest to the southern shore, though half of it lay among the wreckage.
I uncovered my ears and shakily reached for my bag. I held it close, balancing on a rock as the fishermen ran up the shore. Large waves were splashing over the embankment after the damage had caused the water to thrash within the river's banks. After the screams faded out and all the cracking of concrete was done, all that was left was stunned silence.
Cars' horns stopped, pedestrians were silent, and even the wind and the birds seemed to hush.
A child's wail broke the stupor everyone had fallen into. The first real reaction to the devastation before us.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a choked noise out of my dry mouth. I couldn't turn away from the ruins.
"It's like watching a car crash- you can't look away." That phrase couldn't even begin to compare to what just happened.
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I had trouble with the explosion – so that's why this took so long… But I'm curious about how I did with it, because it's pretty far out of my comfort zone. Feedback?
I Googled "what language do they speak in Azerbaijan", and it said Azerbaijani, so I was like "Wiki, are you messing with me?" So idk. It said it could be shortened to "Azeri", but idk. Internet. And, also using Google (Translate) I named the bridge "Alyans Körpü" which is supposed to mean "Alliance Bridge". FYI.
TEN REVIEWS?! You all are absolutely fantastic. I loved all the feedback I got, and these amazing people deserve mega-thanks: crazyshay77 (so, I guess this is a zillion and one for this chapter ;) Smirk and Walk Away, Wendy Pierce, xXCandyygirlXx, Chloe9614, hannahslye, bubzchoc, MollyRuns15, Guest (oh, the perils of anonymity- you didn't get a personalized thanks.) and InkHeart4112 – THANKS :)
Well, can we repeat that number? Ten reviews? I think so. Make my day :)
*ask me for my Tumblr URL*
