Poughkeepsie

This is a small idea I wanted to play around with this morning. A vague beginning maybe? Looking for thoughts on what to do with this little scene.

“It isn’t much, but it’s all I could come up with on such short notice,” Martin said shoving the manilla envelope between her slim waistline and her jacket liner. 

“What about you?” she asked, coy as ever. 

*Now boarding flight 435, one way to Poughkeepsie* the loud speaker snapped, bouncing noise around the vacant terminal. Somewhere, down the long hall labeled A, the hall from which they both came, a floor polisher came whirring on. The sound was enough to make Martin lose it, although he swore he wouldn’t. He spun, quick as the devil, jabbing his right hand under his coat, left side, grabbing for the cold, hard plastic he knew was there. But it wasn’t. And Martin froze. He was never one for fear, or paranoia for that matter. But not this time. Whoever it was that was following them, whatever it was, had shaken Martin to the core. 

“What are you going to do?” she continued. 

“Don’t worry about me, just get on the plane, okay? I’ll be fine. Do you have their number?”

“Yes right here,” she said meekly, reaching for a piece of paper tucker under her hat brim. 

Martin grabbed her arm, bringing it back down to her side. 

“Don’t let anyone see you reach for that number. More importantly, do not open that envelope until you touch down in New York, and are with them, you understand?”

“I understand.” Her eyes staying firm on his.

“Now go, hurry up, your flight is boarding.”

“But..” she said panicking. Although she was indeed the bravest woman Martin had ever met, on certain occasions, she let her humanity show, and maybe this is was pulled him in. 

“No ‘buts’ okay? Just go!” 

She tried hugging him, as a gesture of goodbye, but he shoved her off, more so for his sake than shear frustration. 

“I said go!” 

She stepped back, looked him up and down, taking in the man, Martin, standing in front of her, one last time, turned, and began to walk slowly down the hall labeled B. 

The whirring of the floor polisher grew louder behind Martin, rounding the corner behind them, dragging with it an unassuming man in striped overalls. Martin let out a sigh of relief, turning his gaze back to the young, yet surprisingly mature woman, as she strode off into the shadows. 

Maybe it was the feeling that everything was finally winding down, coming to an end. Or maybe Martin was preoccupied staring at the young, mature woman’s calves below that pencil skirt as she walked away. Whatever the reason, the echo of her her walk masked the echo of someone else’s, fainter, but still there, unbeknownst to Martin who was finally taking a moment to himself.

Then a faint click. The sound of a large insect flying right passed his left ear. The smell of something burning, and a ringing so belligerent it took him off his feet. Down to his knees Martin went. A stinging sensation at the base of his head where his neck rose slenderly. Out of the corner of his eye Martin saw something metal, whirring in the vacant terminal, then shoes, but not her shoes. 

Martin’s head hit the ground with a thud. The blood was beginning to pool in Martin’s throat, leaving him gasping for a breath. A breath, two seconds ago, that was a genuine relief to Martin. He could not move. Even his eyes were paralyzed. As the blood flooded the white tile under his body, there was nothing left Martin could do. Maybe this was secretly the relief he was looking for. 

The young woman had finally reached the plane, where she was graciously welcomed aboard. Apparently the 6:50 a.m. flight out of Charlotte to Poughkeepsie wasn’t what is was all about. As she made her way down the aisle to row sixteen, seat C, her heart beat began to speed. Something was wrong and she could feel it. Plane was completely empty, save one man, in an old linen suit, sitting in her seat. 

“Pardon me,” she said slowly, gazing around the cabin and finding not a single individual besides her and the man, “you’re in my seat.”

“Oh, do please forgive me,” the man said scooting over to the window, “I get clostrophobic on these flights, i’m not very good at flying. Lucky for me though,” he said looking around the cabin just as she had done, “it doesn’t appear that I have to go it alone.” 

The young woman composed her self, not with her guard down, and took her place in seat C. 

“If you get annoyed with my blabbering or if I smell strange,” the man said cracking a smile, “feel free to change seats, it would seem we have the whole plane to ourselves.” 

“It would appear that way,” the woman said, pulling a magazine from her purse. 

“So if you don’t mind me asking, Catharine,” he said now turning his eyes to hers, calm as ever, “where is it?” 

This time, it was her that froze. He had known her name. 

“I’m afraid you have the wrong…” she began to say before he jumped on her words. 

“Now, now, Catharine. There’s no need to lie. We know who you are. We know, well, everything. The envelope. Please.” He reached out a hand, graciously. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking…” again he jumped on her words. 

“Well then Ms. Donahue, Catharine,” a small blade appeared from beneath his sleeve cuff, “we’ve got the whole flight.”

He gave a nod to the flight attendant who disappeared quickly behind the cockpit door, and the engines kicked on. 

Reviews

[gnarlym]

The vague simplicity drew me in, and I can't wait to read what you have next! The writing technique itself was also intriguing and reminded me vaguely of a book I'm currently reading (called Neverwhere if you'd like to see what I mean by the language). This little snippet was interesting and had a good mix of thrill and mystery. Just look out for typos, because there were a few, and they can be disorienting! But otherwise, wonderful and I hope you do something with this!

[SpiceCookie]

This is a great story and would be a wonderful beginning of a chapter! I really want to know what happens next. Keep writing! :)