Reluctantly meandering through the discourse, the agitated people hover like wasps around the luggage collection point as they search intently for their precious belongings- needles amongst haystacks- whilst they battle against the bombardment of overpowering apathy and indifference, ready to sting anyone who gets in their way. They all have the same goals: freedom, liberation, and to be released from the agonising cycle of searching and waiting that drags them in to greedily feed off their time and consume whatever droplet of energy that remains within the heart of the crowd.
Shambling as one, the swarm of faces, each a single grain of irritated salt ambushed by the furious ocean, scrunch up with distaste as they watch the conveyor belt rotate like the world's most forlorn roundabout; spinning lifelessly at a plodding, agonising speed most torturous to withstand, it sucks the soul out of everything with breath.
Immersed in the suffocating stench of cheap burgers and pizza, I watch with casual curiosity.
A disarray of items finally lumbers towards the impatient disorganisation of incompetents. Suitcases, handbags, briefcases, and backpacks. They are all greeted with unconditional love and warmth. Their owners overwhelmed with relief that their bag was not the one to go awry.
But where is the purple bag with the peacock feather?
Many bags drift past me- red, grey, pink, green, orange, black, blue, white- only a few are purple, and none have the peacock feather.
I bite my lip.
The swarm in scattering. It will be easier to see if there are less people.
Where is that purple peacock bag?
The swarm flies past me, eager to escape the place where time stands still as you waste into nothing. Jovial. Contented. Grateful to have their lives returned to normal.
Well, I suppose it is true what they say: ignorance is bliss.
As they bustle through the wailing doors to the other side, the sea of bodies flows rapidly; they can finally break the cycle- they can be free.
They do not know what the girl with the purple bag with a peacock feather will do to the world if she is left to run wild. They do not know why she must die. They do not know why it must be today. But I do. And I will make sure that the deed is done.
There are a few people still waiting for their bags. I eye them inquisitively. Four of them are girls. I wonder which has the capacity to destroy the world.
Red bag. Black satchel. Brown wheelie case. Grey suitcase.
The swarm has dispersed. I am overcome with sudden nervousness as I take in how exposed I am.
Then, the others leave, and I am left standing next to a tall, thin girl with mousy hair.
We are alone.
From around the corner, a purple handbag emerges. It has a luminescent, green and blue peacock feather embroidered onto the front.
This is the bag Jared told me about. Its owner is the girl I must kill.
I try to act nonchalant as I gaze uncaringly in the general direction of the bag, my hand resting over my right pocket.
Strange. No one has made a move to claim it.
I watch the tall girl. She takes long, slow strides towards the conveyor belt before bending down and grabbing the bag by the handle. Her head turns to me. She is grinning a lethal grin.
She pounces.
I grab her hair and we fight and wrestle each other to the icy floor.
She knows me. She knew I was coming. It is the only explanation for why she pounced on me in a public place. But how? It must have been someone on the inside- Jared. I never trusted Jared. He sent her here to kill me.
