Midnight. The perfect time for a murder, a confession, or just some quiet contemplation. My life had definitely taken a strange turn; although my definition of normal differs from most.
I sat at the open window, gazing into the dark. A steady and pounding rain had replaced the breeze from earlier, and so replaced the previous calm with a sense of foreboding. For the first time in several years, I had no idea where my life was going.
My thoughts were punctuated by a flash of lightning. By reflex, I started counting. The rumble of thunder, 7 seconds. I had long ago forgotten what that entailed, some distance away the center of the storm was or something. But exactly how had been lost to me.
I closed my eyes and listened to the rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. A dog started barking, then another. Eventually, both of them stopped. The world slowed...
Chirping? The rain was gone.
I opened my eyes and was greeted by a small songbird, mere inches from my face. It was morning, I must have fallen asleep.
Wait; a bird? In November? That was a little strange. I watched the small animal.
Aren't you a little late?
It didn't seem to care.
I sat up straight, stretching, and felt something heavy fall off my shoulders. I looked down at what had just fallen to the floor. A blanket.
Now how did that get there?
I stood and picked up the blanket. I held it for a few seconds, not quite fully awake, then tossed it onto the unused bed.
I made my way downstairs and found Cassandra closing a backpack with a small suitcase nearby, presumably already packed. I must have looked confused, because when she looked up, she said, "I hope you're ready because we have a flight to catch."
"So soon?" I was already starting to miss the house I'd known for less than twelve hours.
"Yes. You had finally fallen asleep; albeit in a weird place, but I didn't want to wake you. So I hope you don't mind that I packed for you." She pointed to another suitcase, which I took to be full of my meager belongings; which was-for once-more than what I was wearing.
"Oh. Thank you."
"Now you're awake, you're going to start pulling your own weight. Our flight leaves at 11:00 and we're traveling civilian."
"And that means?"
"Traveling like normal people. You know, waiting in lines, checking luggage, going through security." She paused. "It was too short of a notice to get a personal flight." She squinted at me. "And you're not going out like that. That gives off too much of a murderer vibe."
Slightly confused, I took off my coat.
"And you're leaving it here."
I dropped it in surprise. "What? Why?"
"Oh don't worry, we're coming back. Meanwhile, if you're cold, you can wear this." She tossed a sweater in my general direction.
Murderer vibe? I picked up the sweater and put it on. It would be fine for Maine, but D.C. was further south. I stared down at the sweater, then shrugged. I would have to make it work.
She looked me over and nodded, evidently satisfied with what she saw. Though what that was, I wasn't quite sure.
"Alright, get in the car; we have a flight to catch."
At the airport, I'll admit, I was a bit jumpy. There were security guards everywhere; the place was crawling with them. Though I suppose that is to be expected, to prevent me - or worse - from causing any trouble. And yet here I was, waltzing around anyway.
I'll confess, the last time I took a plane was a family trip to Boston when I was eight. I vaguely remember having more luggage than this. I remember the airport being bigger.
Memory; it's a weird thing...
"David! Hurry up, we're going to miss the flight if you keep stopping!"
"But Mom! What if Boston doesn't have it?"
"It's a national bestseller, Boston's going to have it, dear."
I turned around to find my older brother once again gravitating towards the newly released Jurassic Park novel and my mother once again having to pry him away. I didn't understand why he wanted to read it so much; dinosaurs were long dead and I firmly believed that if they were alive, they would kill everyone. What would be the point of that?
David had now done this so many times that Mom made him hold her hand so he wouldn't run off. Suddenly I felt very proud of how my parents didn't have to hold my hand. I knew it was important to not be late. Besides, I was too excited about flying to dare delay.
We hurried along, following my father to the new gate. He had explained to us how the plane was supposed to go to the gate we had been originally been given, but it had been changed to this new gate. I had asked why, he said he didn't know.
Not much longer, we reached the gate. There's was no one there, and that seemed to agitate my parents. They asked the nearest person what was happening and I heard the flight to Boston had been delayed until tomorrow.
David and I looked at each other. I didn't want to be stuck at the airport, but my brother grinned.
"You think they'll let me get Jurassic Park now?"
"Hank?"
Cassandra was watching me. She must be getting used to me constantly zoning out by now. Blinking a few times, I said, "I'm fine."
She shrugged and started heading into the sprawling building. I dimly wondered, as I half heard David reading Jurassic Park to us late into the night, if our flight would be canceled.
It wasn't. We made it without incident and with time to spare. I found it to be more cramped and overwhelming than I remembered. I made a firm resolution to stay away from air travel as much as possible.
Cassandra pulled out a book, and for a moment I was a bit disappointed it wasn't Jurassic Park. Turning away, I looked out the window, watching the landscape shift.
By 11:30 the plane was in the air, by 11:35 I was out.
I woke up once more; not to a bird chirping, but to Cassandra gently shaking me awake. The plane had landed and had already taxied to the gate. Once she saw I was awake, she busied herself getting the carry-ons down from the overhead bins. By the time I was fully awake, the plane was half empty and I was met with an expectant gaze from the woman in front of me.
"You sure take your sweet time waking up, don't you? I hope you're ready to go," she said as she handed me my luggage. I nodded, got up, and followed her off the plane.
As we walked through JFK, I found my gaze returning to the massive windows on either side, showcasing all the various goings-on outside. I watched as a plane slowly approached an empty gate, waiting to receive the passengers who would soon be getting off. On the other side, another plane was being loaded with various bags. This particular plane was headed to Huston.
As I followed Cassandra, she took a turn into a smaller, emptier wing. As we proceeded down the hall, I got the feeling this part of the airport was off limits to civilians. She stopped in front of a conference room, where I could see a few people waiting. She turned to me and held my gaze.
"The people you are about to meet are the rest of my team. First things first, they will not be happy seeing you. In fact, they want you in federal prison." Unsurprising, but hearing that aloud suddenly made me much more nervous about what was happening. She continued, "Secondly, you will not talk unless absolutely necessary. I can already tell you are prone to making sarcastic remarks and other quips that can, and will, be taken out of context. Remember, your life depends on this. Do you understand?"
I took a deep breath and nodded. "I understand."
"Good." She opened the door and lead me into the room. I was immediately met with a sudden silence as everyone's attention turned to me. I could feel the tension in the room skyrocket. Evidently, no one wanted me in that room; me included. Feeling incredibly wary, I followed Cassandra's lead and sat down next to her. Instantly, one of the agents, German from what I could tell, was on the attack.
"I must have misread your report. I was expecting someone who could help with Snowstorm; not-" he shot me a glare that rivaled my brother's, "-him." He spat out the word. Not happy to see me, indeed. Meeting his glare with a more leveled gaze, I kept my mouth shut.
"I intentionally left that part out for this exact reason. If I had mentioned it, he'd have been dragged down here in chains and would be considerably less willing to cooperate." Cassandra glanced around at the other agents before returning to the German. "If you have any problems or grievances with working alongside this man, say them now. Once you're willing to listen, I will be happy to explain everything."
An older, Asian woman spoke next. "I was aware we were to only call a meeting once our target had been found. I find it hard to believe this sorry excuse for a human is the person we need. I find it hard to believe that you fell for this story. Unless he can convince us he is who you claim, this whole endeavor is a waste of time."
A middle-aged black man picked up where she left off, a slight French accent noticeable. "I agree with Will. This man belongs behind bars, not working on a highly classified international mission. He's already seen too much."
Cassandra nodded to the two agents. "Thank you for your constructive input; Ingrid, Grant." She turned to the last agent, who had been silent so far. I had not noticed him until now, but seeing him sent a shock wave through my body. An intake of breath as his gaze met mine. He knew as well. When she addressed him, he briefly broke eye contact, but I dared not look away. I missed what she said to him, but I could not miss his response.
"While I acknowledge my colleagues' concerns, I do not believe we should pass judgment without hearing what he has to say. I trust Cassandra's judgment that this young man may have something of use. I will hear him out."
As I felt all eyes turn to me, I could not help but feel that this man would be deciding my fate for the second time.