Tooth and Nail (Draft In Progress - Book One)

Chapter 3 - Badass with Baggage

Beside me, a mother clutched her son's hand and she whispered to him just loud enough that I could hear what she was saying. "When we land, do not let go of my hand, no matter what."

I knew that Austin-Bergstrom was a busy airport, but is she worrying about? It's not like he can go missing in our little end of the building. We'll be exiting at Terminal 3, so it's not like we're at one of the busy center terminals.

In the row behind, I can hear a conversation between two younger girls who had not stopped talking since takeoff. Their conversation had grown stunningly quiet though. I assumed they were getting into more tween-serious discussion and figured out they should quit yelling their business to the entire plane.

The row in front of me seated a group of three older women all fussing about how they had forgotten something or other, including their bath caps and house shoes. They must be recreationally forgetful, since they had each said their forgotten item multiple times, and the other two would react surprised the same way each time it was said. When they ceased to discuss their grandchildren, they began to whisper about some email the youngest of them received. I caught the occasional word.
Eating.
People.
Crazy.
Careful.
Hope my kids are okay.
Bags.
Eating.
People.
Insanity.
Word of warning, Lucille...
I know, Margie.
It'll be fine, Peg.
Eating.
Eating!

I stopped listening when the plane began to angle for the ground and I reached for the pack of gum in my pocket to help with the pressure changes and ear-popping. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the chair expecting the imminent landing. Around me, I began to hear whispers from the other rows and passengers.
Who is picking her up?
Should we take her?
Will she be okay?
Do you think she has a ride?

Maybe I should have suspected something. Anything. I should have taken the hint that there was something going on at the airport. I should have been preparing.

No amount of thinking what could be wrong could have ever prepared me for the sight out the window when we landed.
Not just people eating.
People eating people.
Going crazy.
I need to be careful.

We touched down and I could see the fear on the faces of flight attendants that met my eyes occasionally. I was the only unaccompanied passenger, and I was a frail fifteen that could pass for ten if I wore my hair back.

Slowly, the families and couples and pairs of formally dressed adults exited the plane, and flight attendants hugged and took quick champagne shots as they too left. I remained in the cabin with five business men, the pilot and copilot, and the bags left behind. The large ones that were too cumbersome to risk taking along in what would surely be a mad dash for the parking garage. 

With curt nods to the captain, three of the five men left, understanding that they can not stay on board, and stepped hesitantly into the gangway.

I looked out my window through to the building windows, watching families embrace and rush away, still clinging closely to one another.
It's okay, I think.
Jezebel's mom will come for me.
I'll be okay.
We will all be okay.
I won't be forgotten.
I won't be left behind.

I will not be left to die.

The remaining to men move up the aisle and stop next to my row. My first thought: pedophiles. Why this was my initial concern, I don't know. But that thought made me pull my knees to my chest and scoot one seat over to the window seat.

One of them leans against the aisle seat and the other back over the chairs in the row in front of mine. They look almost kind, sympathetic. But I keep my pervert-blockade guard up. "Hi kid." Says the one on my row.