Business Arrangement

Part 32

CHAPTER 32:

A dream is better than living the life of a corpse in the ocean.

Advanced machinery is always on a Bee plane, no matter what. I crawl eerily to the sarcophagus in the low bunk, switch it on with my fingerprint and slide in the moment the plane hits the water. A Bee always has a backup plan, anaesthetics inject into my arms and thighs, before blackness is all that's left.

*******

Even in death, the radio still wakes me up.

That nuisance energy gasps me awake, and on screen in the sarcophagus is the news with the explosion and clear hijacking of the Stinger aircraft. Numbness blinks into my brain first, then horror and sadness.

Devastation rolls into confusion when I see my parents—alive and on screen...not dead. That video, it was bollocks? It has to be, or I've lost my sane mind all over again. They're with Fraser, with...Javier Morton, who is standing next to his son in a black suit at a funeral with my picture over the frame...over a grave.

In my mind, my jaw drops, because...what an ugly picture of me.

I look like a pixie coming out of high school, "Breaking news, the hijacking of the Stinger plane where masked men were recorded to be the murderers of the youngest, most beloved daughter in the Stinger family. This is a shock to Europe and the US where the infamous Javier Morton and his son, who was recorded to have been in a relationship with the girl are here today with her parents and oldest sister of the girl. There are still no clear leads on who did this, but here are sketches on screen and a recording of the voice who spoke directly to Lyra Stinger before stabbing her. We'll be back soon for more information..." The video cuts out and emergency power switches on. I frown and grunt in pain and horror.

"BeeBot, where am I?" The machine I ask.

"Eight thousand metres deep in the Atlantic Ocean." The computer tells me.

I dump my head back on the clinical cushion seat, "Do you think you can get me up to the safest surface?" I ask delicately in a croak.

"Fueling jets to the surface caves in Boston, Miss Stinger. I must power down communication, this will take thirty minutes, a nectar special serum will be injected in three, two, one..." I flinch at the sudden injection before blinking until that salty taste in my mouth dribbles into the taste of honey. I sigh in relief and close my eyes, napping like a kitten after getting hit by a car, thrown off a bridge, drowned and then brought back to life with some magical angel guardian looking out for it.

I grit my teeth when the sarcophagus jolts and hits something hard, "How long have I been in here, BeeBot?" I question, eyeing the lid.

"Six days, ships could not reach the breakage of the plane. Based on data reports, your body was left at sea, the public system reports you as deceased in Washington DC and in London Headquarters. I disabled tracking services in order to ensure the full course of action was on healing you, Miss Stinger." It says to me.

"Thank you, BeeBot, please eject and open the hard-drive and lid for me when I can safely get out." I tell it, pressing a hand to my belly.

"Yes, Miss Stinger, Along with a bag containing clothes, cash, first aid kit and other devices to contact home. Termination in t-minus sixty seconds. Hard-drive ejected." It says, before a light too bright for my face blurs around me, I gasp at the air whooshing into my lungs, coughing out, I struggle out of the sarcophagus and squish something too soft to be rocks...sand. I take a slow gaze around, my vision blurs at some points. I tense, gritting my teeth after changing in the bushes and holding the bag of supplies, I watch the machine self-destruct and sizzle in a burning fashion without smoke and fire. Slipping glasses on and a cap from the bag, I stumble and fall against a tree a few times before finding a busy city road, Boston.