A Hero in the Dark: 2nd Edition

Chapter 111: H. Higgins

The flight to Naha is long and aching, but thankfully, my stomach and back have finally decided to calm down. I still feel like I'm going to throw up, but something leads me not—whether it's the stress of flying on my own for the first time or the anxiety of seeing Naya again; whatever it is, I don't really care—I'm just glad the little turbulence there's been hasn't made it worse.

I've stuck to the aisle seat just in case I needed to make a quick run for the washroom; Tanisha and Mark didn't seem to mind. They've been in the seats beside me the whole time, watching some romantic movie or reading a magazine together—I don't think they've taken their hands off each other since we boarded. I wish they have, or at the very least, didn't canoodle each other beside me. I mean, of all the seats I could've had, why did I need to be assigned this one?

Pixie, too, has been quiet on the back of the chair in front of me, still in cricket form, not a chirp slipping out of her. I don't know how she can stay quiet for so long; I'd probably go insane...

Maybe I have.

There're only a few hours left before we land, and I'm already eager to touch down. It'll be dark by the time we get to Naya's hut. I'm still unsure if I should knock on her door that late or if I should figure something else out. I should have enough in my account for a motel, but I don't want to have to travel super far in the morning. The closer I can be to Naya, the better, I think. There's just this... connection, some sense of security that I need from her, and I want to be there as soon as possible, even if I won't get to speak to her straightaway. Besides, I'm okay with waiting outside her hut for a few hours or so.

"Hi Sweetie," the flight attendant chimes, jumpstarting me to the present. "Would you like something to drink? Are you hungry?" Oh... that. Apparently—I didn't know this until after the plane took off—but Nine booked me a ticket in first class. I was expecting a regular flight; I didn't need special treatment. It's nice of him to do this, but there's a part of me that wishes he hadn't.

"No," I choke. "No, I'm ok."

"You sure? It'll be the last time I'm offering before we land, honey. You sure you don't want water, soda, or a bag of chips even, if not just for later?"

I can tell by looking into her eyes how tired she is. I wonder how she's even still standing, walking down the aisle, doing her job. Maybe she has trouble sleeping on planes too... "Ok," I say. "Water would be nice. Thanks."

She smiles, and takes one off the cart, and at the same time, tosses me a bag of pretzels. "Just for you, honey," she says. "You look like you need it."

***

It's dark, but the little light on the street offers plenty of light to see. Despite it being past 1:00 a.m., it's still roasting outside. I hail a cab. "Hey there," the driver says in a thick American accent as I climb into the car. "Say, do I know ya from somewhere?"

"Um, no...? I don't think so..." But even as I say it, there's something familiar about him. His hair, his eyes, his square and sturdy physique... or maybe, the way he speaks?

Pixie flaps up onto the passenger shoulder, squawking once as only a parrot can, and he ruffles her feathers. "What a beautiful parrot. What's his name?"

"Her," I correct.

"Sorry 'bout that," he says, bowing his head in apology. "What's her name?"

"Pixie."

"Pixie, huh," he notes, like he's rolling the name on the tongue. "Strange."

"What, why?" Pixie's not that much of a strange name, is it?