Chapter Two #2
He opened his mouth to speak before thinking better of his words and exhaling them in a deep sigh instead.
He shifted in his seat and turned to face me properly, his entire upper body now facing me, caging me in.
With his arm on the armrest between us, his voice turned dark, and my insides shrivelled, “Listen, kid, switch drinks or you’ll be arriving in Scotland with a broken arm. ”
Panic seized my gut as I shoved my glass into his awaiting hand at the speed of light, out of seemingly gripping fear, before grabbing his own and placing it in front of me, though not daring to touch it.
I knew it.
He smiled at my expression, looking into my soul with a spiteful smirk as he took a sip. He continued until he finished the entire cup, and maybe he’d really done it out of spite, but he shouldn’t have.
I wasn’t stupid enough to gloat in his face, choosing to wait until he couldn’t resist the effects of the drug. Many can do a lot in a few minutes, and I wasn’t willing to find out whether he can really stomach breaking a young boy’s arm.
I wanted to smile, but despite my victory, his words made it a small one.
A fleeting thought at the sharp rumble of his threat made me wonder if there was something larger at play, which only made me that much more grateful for thinking ahead.
He’d seemed harmless, he really did. Like those wealthy men whose only strong suit is their words and would be completely battered in a street fight. Sure, he worked out, but I assumed it was all cardio and maybe boxing to make himself feel more masculine.
“I didn’t put anything in your drink.”
“Then drink it.”
His drink remained untouched on the tray in front of me as I glared and turned to face the window before mumbling again, “I didn’t put anything in your drink.”
I held my tongue from spouting out that married men had a stronger sense of self-preservation. He couldn’t exactly visit her all the way from prison, now, could he?
The night sky was gone now, hidden from me by the expanse of thick clouds. There was a complete void of any light save for the ones flashing on the wing, and it was a soothing rhythm to follow.
On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.
The Restoril worked fast, and it wasn’t long before he fell asleep, helpless to the pull as I once was only hours before.
Finally, I allowed myself an exhale of breath, and my shoulders lowered to a relaxed stance.
Looking over at him, I was cautious enough to wonder if his eyes would pop open when I leaned too close or blew over his eyes.
Even in his sleep, he was eerie. Someone who you’d always feel on guard around.
But that didn’t stop me from reaching out a hesitant arm towards his pockets.
After making sure that he was truly out cold, I abandoned all propriety and patted him down.
Feeling something small and thick, I shoved my hand into his pants pocket and pulled out an expensive leather wallet.
His slumped and slumbering body certainly didn’t stop me from swiping the stack of fresh euro bills and shoving them into my pocket.
I didn’t worry about waking him; he was out cold from the way he’d remained that way when I tried shaking him awake. From the looks of it, he wouldn’t gain consciousness until after we landed.
I went through each fold carefully. From top to bottom, right to left. His name was Evan, but I didn’t care about that.
Evan Bloom.
What a horrible name.
In fact, I barely skimmed the things others would have considered important.
It was mostly useless information like his birthday and eye colour.
The only thing that made me pause was the paper. It was too clean, formal. Usually, there would be ink bleeds or slight misalignments. The paper stock itself was too stiff for a card issued…
Five years ago.
I glanced at the stiff folds of his wallet, at his well-pressed suit, and noted that his license was issued by the state of Rhode Island. Where the wealthy cluster.
If it was a fake, it was poorly made, but I would guess its condition came from pristine care and proper attention from the issuer. Something the working man couldn’t afford.
What really caught my eye, however, was the rainbow of credit cards, each a different gleaming colour. Gold, black, green, silver, blue.
If I had to guess, he was in business. Most likely something in finance.
Despite having the upper hand, I found myself slightly disappointed that I didn’t find anything.
I let out a deep sigh of annoyance before slipping the gold credit card out of its respective pocket, some extra cash for good measure, and throwing the useless piece of leather back onto his unconscious body.
It took me a moment of watching the gold glimmer under the light overhead as I flipped it in my hand when I realized the man seemed to watch over his things meticulously.
Folding his jacket perfectly over his seat, tucking the newspaper neatly to his side.
He was put together and wouldn’t believe he mistakenly took out his wallet before falling asleep.
Nor would he believe he had fallen asleep so promptly.
Nevertheless, what was done, was done.
There were about five hours left of this flight, and dinner hadn’t arrived yet. They would surely try to wake him.
Moving in haste despite all the time I knew I had, I shoved the wallet back into his pocket without recoiling and threw his jacket over his head.
They wouldn’t bother waking him looking like that, and I’d remove it before we landed. The only issue was, I'd better be gone before his eyes open.
If he were smart, his wallet would be the first thing he checks when waking up.
It suddenly occurred to me that I wouldn't have to go through all this trouble had I not drugged him to begin with; drugged being a dubious choice of vocabulary. But if I were to look at the positive side, I’m hundreds of euros richer with much more on the way if his credit card did its work.
A credulous mistake to keep so much cash on your person–especially when seated next to someone like me.
A glint of a pen poked from the inside flap of his jacket, practically begging for attention from my sticky fingers. I took that as well.
However, once I started, I couldn’t stop.
His watch was gone too. Every few moments, I’d turn back to his wallet and pull something else out.
Another credit card, his license, a card with a phone number on it.
The remaining hours that followed felt as though I were only killing time until my inevitable death.
The rational side of me argued that a man such as Evan, despite his threats and build, wasn’t to be compared to the monsters I’ve survived. Therefore, I felt I would also survive this recent bout of trouble.
I read a few articles that I found hard to follow and finished the Sudoku side of the sleeping man’s newspaper with the pen I’d taken. Leaving a cocky message and tucking the paper back into its rightful place.
When dinner rolled around, I found it easy to distract the attendants with how tired Evan looked. Asking them to let him sleep it off, or else he’ll land less than happy.
They were almost too glad to oblige, perhaps not wanting to face the wrath of another first-class passenger.
All in all, despite the small, yet growing anxiety in my gut, I quite enjoyed my first time flying.
When I was finally able to fall back asleep, it was only for short naps that were interrupted by every shake of turbulence. In many ways, I liked it better that way. Each time I shook awake, a wave of calm washed over me at Evan’s continued state of sleep.
When the dreary sunrise began to shine through my window, I closed it, paranoid that even the smallest hint of morning light would rouse Evan’s mind from its muddled senses. I hadn’t even allowed myself to savour my first flight landing, too eager to be the first off the plane.
When we landed, I was the first out of my seat and gone before anyone could even notice the older man, still asleep.
It wasn’t a rough landing, but even with all the noise and pressure, he remained unconscious.
I became worried for another reason, but after checking his pulse, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Feeling the familiar tug of my bag’s straps against my shoulders, I closed the overhead bin and disappeared into the morning crowd of the Edinburgh airport.
With my hood up, I only made my face slightly visible when going through security checkpoints. Surprisingly, not a word about the legitimacy of my passport was mentioned.
Like smooth sailing.
I would have found it suspicious had I not been looking over my shoulder every moment for a tall, angry-looking man in a rumpled suit and a sleep-ridden face searching every teenage boy in his surroundings.
Had I been more aware of how I looked to others, I would have toned down my facial expressions. Maybe it was the thrill rather than the fear that made me so susceptible to plans of my own making. Placing myself in dangerous situations, searching for something to thaw out my own eyes.
When I made it to the exit without a hassle, I smiled, searching for what the manila letter informed me would be waiting for me.
Like clockwork, a sleek black vehicle rolled to a stop in front of me, forcing me to meet my own eyes in the windows of the backseat.
A tall man with sharp features stepped out and came around the car to open the door for me, without question. Without even meeting my gaze. I paused for a moment, looking at the passersby as if one of them would stop and tell me what to do next.
When the realization that I was alone across the globe with nothing but a promise of a future in my bag caught up to me, I, with wariness, climbed in.
He didn’t wait before closing the door right as I entered with a resonating shut, damn near shattering my ankle.
We didn’t talk on the drive, and I didn’t know where he was taking me. Only that we, through my own research, would be finding ourselves in the countryside soon.
And, in the countryside, we were.