You Don't Belong Here

Chapter Seventy One

"Flight 149 for Tokyo now boarding. Please make your way to-..."

The voice over the intercom was little more than a distraction as Brielle moved through the crowded airport. Her backpack and helmet were sent through the X-ray scanner and she was sent on her way. She checked the ticket in her hand once more: Flight 892, gate 16 at 2:00PM for LAX.

Her skin crawled at the thought of returning to California after what happened nearly three years ago. A nauseating pressure began to tumble about in her stomach and she fought the urge to retch.

It's just a quick trip, she reasoned. Just need to make sure the facility is still inactive.

An alarm on her phone sounded to notify her that only twenty minutes was left until her boarding time.

"Flight 892 for LAX now boarding. Please make your way to gate 16."

Her heart jumped into her throat as she quickened her pace and headed for gate number 16. Already there was a line forming, and people were beginning to make their way to their designated seats.

She jumped into line behind a middle aged business man and waited nervously for her turn to board.

"First time flying?" A man behind her spoke up, earning a surprised glance from Brielle. "Your shaking." The man offered a kind smile and she looked down at her hands - they were trembling.

"Oh...no, I've flown before. Just nervous to get there, I guess."

The man smiled again. He appeared to be in his early thirties, and was dressed in a polo shirt, khakis, and brown loafers. His sandy blonde hair was parted neatly above his blue eyes, and a few small freckles decorated his cheeks. "Yeah, I get that way sometimes too. It will ease up the closer we get, though."

She chuckled nervously and turned in time to hand her boarding pass to the stewardess before being directed to her seat. She was in the back and against the window.

Hurriedly she shuffled along to her seat and reached up to place her helmet and backpack into the overhead compartment.

"Excuse me," she jumped at the sound of the blonde man's voice and turned to find him standing next to her, "do you mind if I stow my bag with yours?" She shuffled out of his way and allowed him to place a small briefcase alongside her backpack and she took her place in the window seat. He sat next to her and offered his hand in greeting. "I'm Isaac Matthews."

She accepted the handshake. "Samantha Taylor."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Taylor."

She nodded her agreement and waited patiently for departure.

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The police had finally left the sullied park and civilians were slowly beginning to trickle in either to go about their daily lives or to try to find the area where the body had been.

Those same steely eyes watched as they all moved about like insects whose hive had been disrupted. Their observer sat patiently, motionless as they took in the sight of it all. The peoples behaviors were so strange...so distinct. This one walked differently than that one, and this other seemed more aggressive than their companion.

So unique they all were. Their diversity would be their downfall in the end. Only those of like minds could survive the dangers of life. Only the strong would prevail. Fear brings on weakness, and weakness brings on death. But like fear, ignorance and foolishness were as deadly as a knife.

A small group of young men were making their way to the murder site now. They were laughing and teasing one another about potential ghosts as they attempted to scare one another. Failure to acknowledge true danger results in the loss of one's life.

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"So Samantha, where are you from?"

"The Houston area. You?"

"Denton. Have you seen the news lately? It's crazy to think that someone so demented is running the streets. I mean, you could walk right past them on the street and never even realize until they're stringing you up to..." Isaac trailed off for a moment as he got lost in his thoughts. "It's just crazy."

Samantha shrugged. "Crazy stuff happens. It's what makes the world interesting."

"Interesting?!" He appeared shocked at first before letting loose a soft chuckle. "So you're one of those girls that are obsessed with murder mysteries?"

"All I'm saying is you've got to take the bad with the good. Everything will work itself out in the end."

He looked genuinely confused now. "So...are you some kind of hippy?"

"No, I'm not." She looked down at her trembling hands and sighed. "I have an overactive thyroid and I haven't taken my medicine in a while. It's why I shake and sometimes it messes with my head. Some of the stuff I think and say doesn't always make sense."

There was a heavy silence between them now and Brielle turned to look out the window.

"Why have you not taken your medicine?"

She thought long and hard to choose her words carefully. "I didn't need it for a while. My...my doctor...he was able to get it regulated and it started working normally for a long time. I don't have the same doctor now, so I had to start back up on the medicine...but I went so long without it that I'm still struggling to get back into the routine."

"That makes sense." Another heavy silence fell between them. "Hey, this might be completely out of line, but would you want to get coffee or dinner when we land at LAX?"

"What?" They both shared a confused expression now. "No, I...no."

"Oh...okay, that's fine. I didn't realize you had a boyfriend. That's my bad."

"No, you're fine. I thought you were just one of those chatty fliers." She pressed her lips into a tight line and returned her gaze out the window. An uncomfortable chill was creeping along her skin as the conversation between the two abruptly ended.

Well this isn't weird at all...

She looked at the ground below; it was like a giant, rigid patchwork quilt.

I wonder how long it would take for me to fall to my death if I were to jump out of the window...