Somewhere Else Than Here Title: Somewhere else than here Author: Krige Van Rensburg, [email protected] Word Count: 3,497 Somewhere else than here By: Krige Van Rensburg The intercom came on, waking me up from a deep slumber. ‘Ladies and Gentleman, we will be landing shortly, so please make sure your eating trays are in an upright position, and your seatbelts intact.’ Travelling had always made me tired. I suppose dragging a body around for two hours could be partially blamed for my stiff limbs, especially when the guy weighed over a hundred kilograms. I turned to the woman sitting next to me. ‘So…had a good flight?’ Her stare was dumbfounded. With her lips pursed, she snapped her head back to the front again and pretended to fumble for something in front of her. I don’t blame her for being a bitch. I was pretty raucous last night with all my drinking, and besides, I must probably smell like a wine cellar. My coming on to her didn’t help either. The planes descend made my stomach turn, and I wasn’t particularly up for anything that wanted to escape my mouth. Especially when it was smoked salmon sandwiches, mixed with a lot of whisky, and some cheese. I took the paper bag in front of me, and pretended to spew. This, of course, was done for the lady next to me. She harrumphed and turned her body to a ninety-degree angle, almost falling of her chair. We touched down a few minutes later, and was handed a boarding pass before the intercom went on again. “Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to London. Please make sure your hand luggage…” London. How I despised this place. I hated the people, the busy commotions, and most importantly the fucking weather. I could not understand how anyone in their right minds could live with all this grey and coldness that seem to creep into your bones. Some days I wish my pick-ups could be in a different country; one with lots of sunshine and happy people. With semi-naked women, drunk on joy, dancing on flower spilled dance floors, flirting with everything on two legs. But no. I have to get the coldest, cruellest country on the entire planet. Plus, my hangover didn’t help my perceptions along either. When I finally got outside - the woman in front of me had trouble getting her hips passed the seats - I almost wished I didn’t. It was only a few meters to the bus that would take us to the main terminal building, but the cold bit deep into my skin, sending shivers all over my body. Welcome to London. I managed to get into the bus and waited patiently for the rest of the herd to join before we were underway. After a few quick, jerky stops, we were at the entrance, and proceeded inside. As usual, Gatwick Airport was a termite hill. I always seemed to be here when everybody from across the world were here as well. A screaming kid in front of me almost made me kick him hard, but his mother eventually restrained him, and clutched him closely to her chest. It was a nice chest. Then came the line of waiting. This was to enter the country. Luckily, I was only 15th or so from the front. I fumbled in my black suede over coat pocket for my passport and retrieved it. Opening it, I couldn’t help but smile at my photo and name. “Matthew Cussler” Had it been my own, I would’ve hated it. The only thing in this entire passport that was viable was my photo. It could even be said it was slightly outdated, as I didn’t have long dark hair anymore. Also, I had a nose job done after a little brawling incident, but apart from that, I fitted the portrait quite nicely. A few minutes later, I was in front. ‘Good morning’ I said, with the warmest of smiles. ‘Mornin.’ Was all I received. The serious looking man took my passport and paged through it. ‘How long you staying?’ ‘About two weeks’ ‘Business or pleasure?’ ‘Well, both if I’m lucky.’ He looked up at me nonchalantly, and then down to his writing again. ‘Have you visited the UK before?’ ‘Unfortunately’ He looked up again, and stamped my passport hard. ‘Next’ he called. I smiled once more and proceeded to the baggage line. Thank goodness this was the last of the waiting. After a few minutes the bags started appearing. It always amazed me how many things some people could bring with them when they travel. The experienced ones would be limited to more or less one bag, and a handbag. Yet, some of these women had four bags, which were so big, it would’ve fit a dead person easily. Suppose it was a female thing. My black nylon bag appeared suddenly. An elderly gentleman grabbed the bag by its handles, and then dumped it hard on his trolley. My heart skipped a beat. ‘Excuse me!’ I yelled. ‘What?’ ‘That’s my bag!’ ‘What? This one?’ ‘Yes, that one.’ ‘I’m sorry sir, but you must be mistaken. I know my own bag.’ A sudden and abrupt fury overwhelmed me. I reached out and grabbed the handles hard. The man did the same, only his hands covered mine. There was “love” and “hate” tattooed on his fingers. I must say, he had quite a powerful grip, but if I was any more concerned with whether he was stronger than me, I would’ve ripped his throat out. We stared at each other, as two alpha males would. After we drew some attention, I let go eventually. ‘Okay. Open the bag, and lets see.’ ‘Very well. We could’ve done this the first time, had you not acted on your barbaric instincts.’ I clenched my teeth. He unzipped the bag, and to my horror it was filled with clothes and other arbitrary things. I walked away without even saying I’m sorry. So what? Simple mistake, it could happen to anyone. I stood on the other end of the line, fuming. After what seemed like thirty minutes or so, they closed the line. I ran to the nearest airport official. ‘Excuse me, my bag didn’t come out!’ ‘Slow down sir! Are you sure this was your flight?’ He pointed to the overhead electronic board that indicated my flight in bright yellow letters. ‘Of course I’m sure!’ The man looked at the line for a few moments and took out his hand held radio. ‘Jimmy come in, over.’ ‘Yeah Jimmy here.’ ‘Was that the last of the luggage you just send up?’ ‘Yeah it was.’ ‘Thank you.’ He turned to me. ‘I’m sorry sir, you are going to have to go to baggage claims, I can take you there if you want? I’m sure there’s just a mix up somewhere.’ My eyes were screaming mad death now, and I had to breath deeply before I acted irrationally. I looked down at my wristwatch. It was 7:56 am. The pick up would be here in another hour. ‘Take me there, NOW!’ I demanded. The man led me through a few passageways, and brought me to the Baggage claims counter. A nicely dressed lady was sitting behind it, talking to someone on the phone. I pushed down on the cancel button and took the phone from her hand. She was shocked. ‘I need my luggage please.’ ‘That was rather rude…’ ‘Listen to me very carefully. Ive had a shit flight, your country stinks, and if I don’t get my luggage now, I’m afraid a lot of people might die.’ Her eyes grew as big as saucers, and he she swallowed hard. ‘NOW!’ I shouted, bringing my fist down on the counter. She jumped with my action and cleared her throat. ‘Umm… okay sir. What was your flight number?’ I gave it to her. She turned to the computer and typed a few keys. I was watching her impatiently when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I was about to bark when I swallowed it back. ‘Is there a problem here sir?’ the policeman asked. ‘No officer, no problem at all.’ The policeman looked at the lady who was helping me and nodded. ‘Would you mind coming with me sir?’ Oh no. This wasn’t happening to me. ‘Actually, I’m very late for an appointment, and I need…’ ‘This way sir’ he said more affirmatively. I looked from his face to the baggage lady and back again. There was no way out. With a sudden thrust, I pushed the officer hard, making him fall backwards over his feet. Before his body hit the ground, I was already a few feet away. The officer screamed after me, bringing a lot of attention to myself. The adrenaline was coursing through my veins, last night’s whisky in my mind somehow long gone. I sidestepped a few people, and noticed a handful of cops coming from a room ahead of me. Turning left suddenly, I realised I had one option only; the toilets. Knocking a few people out of the way, I took the first door I could find, and exploded inside. A woman jumped around at my entrance, and held her hand to her mouth in obvious shock. I moved forward and grabbed her by the hair before swinging around. Her screams were lost in my adrenaline rush. A few moments later the doors burst open again, and a few cops entered, holding their distance when they saw I had a hostage. ‘Back the fuck away!’ I yelled. ‘Okay sir, calm down, no-one wants to…’ ‘I said, get the fuck out of here!’ Still they came closer. Drastic measures ensued. I produced a penknife from my trouser pocket, flicking the blade open with one swift movement and held it close to the lady’s jugular. The cop in front dropped his hand to his gun. I simply pushed harder on the blade, cutting slightly into her flesh. At the least it made her screaming subside. ‘This is the last time I’m going to tell you to get out of here’ I threatened in a stable voice. The cop held his hands up. ‘Drop your gun on the floor!’ He hesitated. ‘NOW!’ A trickle of blood was running down my hand now. He took it out and placed it down gently before stepping backwards, his hands still in the air. The cops behind him followed suit until they were finally out of the bathroom. I let go of the woman, and picked the gun up, pointing it at her. ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ I breathed. I peered around her at the cubicles, realising they were at least empty. One hostage will have to do. My mind was racing with a million different thoughts, but the one that stood out clearly amongst the rest, was the one that reminded me that I was never going to make it out of here alive. I looked back at the woman, for the first time seeing her. Although her neck was bleeding slightly from my blade, her face was totally composed, and under control. It was almost as if this sort of thing happened to her daily. Her eyes were light blue, and her black hair was cut short. She had a long, dark coat on, which fell to a point short of her boots. I moved around her, so that I could still see the door. ‘So what are your plans?’ She replied smoothly, a finger running over the small cut on her neck. ‘Excuse me?’ Her thick Russian accent threw me off. ‘I asked what your plans were. You are a fool to think you have any chance of escape.’ I moved closer and pressed the nozzle of the gun hard against her forehead. ‘And what makes you think you’re going to be so lucky?’ She didn’t so much as blink at my gesture. ‘I find it humorous that you would even concede to shoot your one and only hostage. You do not look like the stupid type.’ I was fuming, mostly because she was right, but also because she had so much control over the situation. I lowered the gun and stood back. There was a commotion outside now. ‘Just give yourself up, and this will all be over.’ She looked at her watch, ‘Besides, I’m running late for a very urgent and important meeting.’ I looked at my watch too. 8:36am. Shit. ‘Look, lady, if I don’t get out of here soon, you can kiss yourself, your meeting, and in due time, the rest of the world goodbye.’ ‘Oh really?’ she asked with an eyebrow raised. ‘Really.’ ‘And how’s that? Are you going to execute everyone with your little pistol there?’ ‘No, a virus is… that is, if I don’t get to my bag soon.’ Her eyes went big suddenly, and her mouth hung open. ‘I know, it’s a real tight…’ ‘Matthew… Matthew Cussler?’ she broke in. ‘Yes, how the hell did you…’ Suddenly, and very unfortunately, everything made sense. Her Russian accent, the black hair, the coat…I cant believe I didn’t see this sooner. She was the contact. ‘Holy Shit’ was all I could manage. ‘You Fool! If we don’t get to the bag now, the timer will release the virus! You idiot, you’ve doomed us all!’ ‘No, the stupid bag people doomed us all. Don’t you dare blame this one on me, bitch!’ ‘You listen to me very carefully Mr. Cussler…’ Suddenly a bullhorn sounded from outside. “This is the police… we are sending someone in to listen to your demands.” “Demands? What fucking demands do I have? I have a request for the whole world to be saved…” I whispered. The door opened suddenly, and I grabbed the contact from behind again, my gun to her head. The man that came in had his hands in the air, a thin wearing shirt – probably to show me that he is indeed unarmed, and a badge with a cord around his neck. “Easy now. I’m just here to listen…” he said in a calm voice. His eyes never left us. “Shoot him, shoot him!” the contact screamed, but I made her stop by choking her with my free hand. “Don’t hurt her, calm down…” the negotiator said. “Oh would you shut the fuck up, I’m trying to concentrate.” He held his hands higher again. “Are there any more people in here?” he asked. “No, only this stupid Russian…” She squirmed in my grasp, but I tightened it. “Listen here… ALL I need is for you to bring me my bag. That is ALL I ask. You people lost it, and I want it back… now.” He looked at me dumbfounded. “What is in this bag?” I opened my mouth, but then closed it again. What was I gonna tell him? Was I about to save millions of people merely to be thrown into jail and be used as someone’s bitch for the rest of my days? The Russian cow opened her mouth after escaping my grip somehow. “It’s a virus. It would be able to infect everybody in this building in a matter of seconds, the planes that are about to leave… everything. Once it spreads, there is no stopping it. It’s airborne, and biochemical suits would not be able to protect you. If we don’t get this bag now… we are all going to die.” The negotiator seemed unconvinced. “Hey buddy, did you hear a single word she just said?” He dropped his hands. “What’s the cancellation code?” he asked. “How did you even know it was on a timer…?” “The cancellation code… please” he asked, exchanging his British accent with an Irish one. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. What’s next? Can we expect an Arab from the bomb squad to come and claim the weapon as well?” “Your humour is very inappropriate at this time” the Russian woman breathed. “Shut the fuck up!” I kicked her legs at the joints, which made her tumble down to the ground in pain. Apart from releasing frustration, it was easier to train my gun unto her anyway. “Okay… this is how it is going to work. You are going to bring the bag here, and I’ll deactivate it. To tell you the truth, I don’t give two shits about who gets it in the end, as my superiors have worked on an antidote ages ago anyhow. All I want, is to get out of here, and back to my own country in one piece.” “You have an antidote?” the woman asked, her eyes wide. I looked down at her for a brief moment and raised my gun into the air to release a verbal lashing. Before the words escaped my mouth, two things entered my shoulder hard at lightning fast speed. The gun dropped to the floor, and I tumbled over backwards, the oxygen out of my lungs. Fighting the black spots clouding my vision, I could dimly see the negotiator with a silenced weapon in his hand, the woman now going for my gun on the floor. He pointed toward her, and the same “THUD THUD” was heard. She fell down, her face looking toward me with a small stream of blood dripping down her lips. I sat up against the wall, embracing the now freely flowing oxygen. Even though I knew I had been shot twice, the pain seemed to be far away. Although I knew it was racing toward me as a steam engine would do at full speed. I clutched the wound with the other hand and pushed as hard as I could to stop the blood flow. I looked up at the man in control. “What a wise move. Had this stupid dead bitch not blinded my attention for a moment, I would’ve seen it coming. Nice touch, using a silenced weapon so as not to attract the cops from outside. I should’ve suspected you weren’t going to try and get me to the bag, as they would immediately take us into custody, without me ever having a chance at it. Inevitably dooming us all. One thing bothers me slightly though. After you shoot me, how will you explain it to the authorities outside? Especially now that your bullets are in that woman over there?” “Simple. I wouldn’t.” “You wouldn’t?” “No. I would merely tell them that you will contact them in an hour with your demands. I will give them false information, and in the planning phase of your take-down, I would slip away to my car outside and drive away…” “You had my bag all along?” I asked, genuinely amazed. “It’s easy to get a suit and pretend your packing bags out of a plane…” “But then… when were you going to grab or kidnap me?” “I wasn’t. I was ordered just to steal the bag and take it back to my superiors. After realising it was on a timer, I thought it was going to be quite difficult to apprehend you, but you took care of all that yourself.” This guy was good. He took a firmer grip on his gun. “Now what’s the code?” I was faced with that same terrible choice again. Do I save millions, or do I try and save myself? “ He grinned. “Thank you.” With that said, he shot another two volley’s into my chest before leaving to go. This time the oxygen was completely gone, and I could feel on the inside my lungs were grabbing for something. As my ears rang terribly, a short space of my life flashed before my eyes. I wasn’t such a bad guy, now that I thought about it. I had a wife, two children, and a very decent Swiss bank account. I suppose when I die within the next few minutes I could gladly say I have lived a good life. The blood was pouring from my chest now on the white tiled floor and I could only stare. I thought of my little Jason, and how fast he actually grew up. Hell, it felt like yesterday that he was still in diapers. Then, my wife, whom I stopped fucking a century ago… she was always kind to me. Maybe I shouldn’t have cheated on her so many times. Oh, and my brother Paul. For covering my ass so many times in the past. I wonder how he’s doing? But yeah… then there was the stupid fucking Irishman, who believed he had the right code to deactivate the most threatening virus known to mankind… I was nodding off slowly, my hearing gone… when I noticed a person kneeling in front of me shining something in my eyes. Had I not been so desperately tired, I would’ve punched him for putting his rubber-gloved hand on my face…
Copyright © 2003 Krige Van Rensburg |