Escaping Envy

Ch 4 Departure

The sky was dimming, but the California heat was alive and well. My suitcase was still at home lying open on my bed. I never could make myself pack it. 

I had grabbed my grey jacket, laced up my shoes, and left the apartment without another thought. I knew I'd be late there, but I didn't care. Might as well drag out the time before I was thrust back into hell.

The airport was brightly lit inside with the hum of people rushing about. I found a sign leading to the private plane terminals. I didn't actually know where I was going. All I knew was that they flew here in a private jet so this seemed like the right move.

As I walked toward the private terminal, a big sign with an arrow pointed to a bathroom on my left. I slowed down then pushed the door open. What reason did I have to hurry? It's not like they were going to leave without me.

Inside, a hand dryer roared and a child was having a meltdown in a far stall. Somehow, the commotion was a nice distraction from my own thoughts. My mind wouldn't stop imagining what awaited me in New York. Why couldn't the syndicate just get a new spy? Was I really that important to them?

I slowly slunk over to the sinks. The splattered mirror and bad lighting let me know I hadn't slept a wink last night. The grey circles under my eyes told me that too. My hair was also a frizzy mess. I hadn't bothered to brush it.

I frowned at myself in the mirror, wondering what other people saw when they looked at me. They probably thought I was some delinquent with a nasty hangover. How I wish a hangover was my biggest problem right now.

Could I really live through a second round with the Albini crime ring? What options did I have? It was either do what they say, or else, and I had a pretty good idea what "else" meant. Milo would come and drag me to New York in a much rougher fashion.

I exited the bathroom and began trudging towards the private terminal sign. Upon entering a large set of metal doors with private pasted on them, I was met with rows of plane terminals, each marked with a single fluorescent light pole across from it. 

It was pitch black outside and a cellphone tower's red blink could be seen on a hill not too far off. For some reason, I hadn't brought my phone with me. 

A warm breeze whooshed through my long hair as I took in the surroundings. There wasn't a single person in sight and each jet warehouse was closed, except for the one at the very end. The door was halfway open and I could see the black tail of a jet poking out. 

Gathered around the jet stood a small group of people in all black. They formed a semi-circle around a tall man in the center leaning against the jet. It was them.

A wave of dread swept over me and I fought a rising panic. Should I just run? Turn around and make for the hills? No, they'd find me. They always found me.

So many emotions were running through me that it felt like someone was flipping through TV channels at the speed of light. Little snippets of hate, fear, anger, and helplessness flashed in my head.

I forced my legs to walk down the paved pathway. Everything in me was screaming to turn around. Even the wind was blowing in the other direction, the trees shooing me away.

The wind carried cigarette smoke my way, making me shiver. It was the brand Milo always smoked. A strong spearmint that burned your lungs if he blew it in your face. His ringed fingers were always in possession of a cigarette. 

As I neared, I heard his smooth voice call out.

"Razzy, how good of you to show up!" he crowed, leaning leisurely against the jet. His cigarette tip glowed from his fingertips. "Did you have a hard time finding us or did you just take your sweet time? You know I'm not a patient man. What kept you?" He threw the cigarette to the ground.