49. Luke
Luke
Iwalk through the Miami airport, checking the time as I rush to grab my luggage and pick up the rental car.
It’s busy in the terminal, although I’m not really sure why.
It seems like a normal summer day, no holidays or special events in town that I know of.
However, that doesn’t stop the chaos at the baggage claim.
I didn’t even want to check my bag; it was a carry-on. But TSA told me that the flight was overbooked and, therefore, too full to bring any more luggage onto the plane.
So here I stand, watching a conveyor belt move at a snail’s pace. A woman squeezes past me to grab a floral suitcase from the belt, and then a tall man with a beard rushes toward a bag of golf clubs before it passes him. Still, I wait.
It seems everyone who was on the same flight as me has already gotten their bags, and as the crowd around me disperses with their personal items, I spot something new on the belt.
It looks like a large clear garbage bag with a large awkward-shaped item inside.
There’s a note of some sort stuck to the bag, and when it’s close enough to read, I realize my name is scribbled across it.
What the heck?
I step forward in time to lift the bag from the belt, and I’m shocked to find it holds my carry-on case.
Upon further inspection, the case inside is open. Items like socks and my phone charger aren’t even in the case, but strewn out at the bottom of the plastic bag, and the top of the bag is knotted closed like it’s literal trash.
I look around me, searching for someone who might know what happened to my luggage. Did they break my suitcase? Did the zipper pop off? Did they look inside my bag and then have trouble closing it?
My blood goes hot. I brought gifts for my parents from Maple Lake, and I’ll be angry if they’re not in there.
I rip the bag open, too frustrated to work out the knot that holds it together.
Inside, my gray case lies unzipped, folded haphazardly closed, with clothing pouring out the sides.
The Maple Lake tea towels I got my mom are crumpled at the bottom of the plastic bag, but thankfully the mug I got my dad is still wrapped—sloppily—in paper inside the case.
My phone rings.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Luke, how was the flight?”
Dad.
“The flight was good. But I just got my suitcase and it’s in a plastic bag.”
“Why?”
I shake my head, standing and gathering the whole bundle in my arms. I don’t have time to figure out the zipper or if anything’s missing right now.
“I have no idea. But now I’m late to pick up the rental. It’s not even in the same building, so it’s going to take me some time to walk over there.”
“Alright, well, don’t rush. I want you to have a level head when you get here. We’ll email the airline later and get it all sorted out, let them know if anything is missing.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea.” I head for the sliding door that leads outside and wince when a blast of Florida heat hits my face.
Everyone standing on the curb is dressed in flip-flops and shorts.
A large group waits to cross the road at a nearby crosswalk, and I move to join them.
“I’ll see you soon. And I’ll call when I get the rental. ”
I hang up after Dad says goodbye.
The orange hand on the pedestrian signal is replaced with a walking man, and the crowd converges on the street.
I walk quickly, awkwardly gripping the bag that holds my suitcase, angry that I can’t roll it on the ground like normal.
On the other side of the five-lane street, I follow signs toward the car rental center.
I have to cross another street and walk a quarter mile, and by this time my skin is itching from sweat that trickles lazily down my back.
The next crosswalk is shorter, crossing a one-way street. I hoist my belongings higher, but my arms threaten to give out from the exertion.
I’m halfway across the road when a glint of sunlight flashes across my eye. Everything happens so fast. A red car speeds toward me. I don’t have time to run, to blink, to process what’s happening.
There’s excruciating pain in my legs. The world tumbles like dice on a card table. My body flies through the air, and I land on the pavement with a deafening crunch.
I can’t breathe. I gasp for air. I hear people shouting. And then the sunlight disappears.