The Gospel of the Font

Chapter 6

I really love flying. Being up in the air gives me time to clear my head. Well, it would normally, but there's so much weird shit up there now. I've got problems like never before and a long plane ride from Egypt to New York City, a two-hour layover, and then another flight to Charlotte, North Carolina weren't enough to help me make sense of anything.

Everything after that meteor shower dragged by with painstaking slowness, letting our minds absorb every horrible detail. Ten hours after Reverend Roberts heard about what happened to his precious angel, there was a private jet waiting to take her, and only her, back to the States. Roberts felt that we had "done enough" to jeopardize his daughter's safety and that we could wait for the airport in Cairo to reopen like all the other simpletons. Gotta love that good Samaritan attitude, huh? Molly was still unconscious when they put her on the two-million-dollar Lear and flew her off.

The rest of us caught the next flight heading to the States, which didn't leave for fourteen hours after Molly's plane took off. Trust me, fourteen hours is a long time to sit with two people you are dying to spill your secrets to but know you really shouldn't. I don't want to look at all responsible for what happened to Molly, or Cairo for that matter, so I haven't told Walter or Tim about anything having to do with the book, or the weird chick, or the angel or... God, do I sound like a lunatic or what?!

I was honestly going to keep the whole Molly waking up and speaking Latin thing from Walter too, but Tim can't ever keep shit to himself. Even now, after most of a day has gone by, I still don't think Walter believes us.

Truthfully though, it's not like keeping quiet about anything would have lightened any moods. Our big adventure hasn't exactly turned out as we planned; for me especially. We've all been just kind of quietly contemplated the fact that we could have fucking died back there. I mean, a crappy motel fell on my head! I'm sure happy to still be breathing! I called my parents to let them know I was alright, which was probably the most interesting conversation I've ever had with them.

My mom demanded that I call her every hour to let her know I was still okay. A bit much, but I can understand how she felt. She used to call me every day when I moved out to go to college. It was cute at first but got old fast. I fear this may turn into a repeat of those days.

"Yes, mom, I've got my suitcase and we're heading to Tim's car," I shout into my cell phone over all the other noise in the baggage claim area. A man's voice is repeating the same 'make sure you watch your bag, or someone will put a bomb in it' speech that I've heard over and over since we got off the plane. "Yes... yes, mom... I know... yes... yes, I will call you when we get home." I turn to Tim and roll my eyes. My expression makes him giggle softly. "I know... I know, mom. Yes... yes, I love you, too. Okay... okay bye. I know... I know but I've got to go now. I already told you I would. Yes... yes, love you. Bye." I think she was still talking but I hang up anyway. I think my next contact with the folks will just be a text instead.

"You're not talking to her in my car," Tim says playfully as we roll our suitcases out onto the sidewalk. Tim's car is out in the cheap lot so we're going to have to wait for the bus. "If I have to listen to any more of that I'll just run us off the highway."

"Won't be a problem," I say with a groan. "I'll just blame any missed calls on poor signal or something. No more conversations with the folks for me until tonight." I take a deep breath and relax in the peaceful aroma of car exhaust and the sounds of shouting people and honking horns. It's sunny, but not nearly as hot as it was in Egypt and I can see green things growing if I know where to look. Damn, it's good to be back in the States!

Walter rolls his luggage up beside us and sits down on his carry-on. He takes a relaxing sigh just like we did. I think we're all just happy to be home. We've all had more than our share of excitement on this trip. "How long till the next bus?" he asks.