The Collision

Laura wakes suddenly from sleep, sticky with sweat and the lasting images of a forgotten dream, her memory scrambling to make sense of the feelings that still linger. Her gut lurches with a strange sensation, her intuition marking a shift in her day, something out of sorts. She hesitates, wondering if she should go to the airport as planned. 

Her flight is to leave in three hours for an opportunity that would change her life, for an internship she discovered by chance at a dinner party only yesterday. The caveat was that she had to arrive tomorrow at 7:00 A.M or the opportunity was lost, and she lived three states away. 

Laura now sits outside of the terminal, fumbling between her wallet, backpack and luggage. She realizes that her boarding pass must be at the airport coffee shop, another typical display of setting objects down without thought, often finding her keys on the bookshelf and book on the roof of her car.

"Hi, yes, so sorry to bother. I believe I left my boarding pass here just a few minutes ago?" She tugs her back pack higher on her shoulder, her nervous aura hard to dampen. 

The barista is busy meticulously measuring coffee grounds. "You just missed security, he took it with him. Might want to check the main office. Down near G."

She checks her watch. Boarding begins in ten minutes. Those hasty to leave the cramped terminal shove chargers in their bags and right their masks, throwing plastics away and settle themselves in line awaiting further instruction.

Laura hightails it towards G gate, scanning for any office or sign indicating security. The intercom blasts to life, exclaiming that anyone on her flight should begin lining up to board. Her hands begin to sweat as she rubs them against her stiff jeans, realizing the fashion statement isn’t worth the impending discomfort. 

Spinning in circles she fails to see a security office, so stops the first uniformed worker she sees. "Can you please tell me where security is located?"

"Security? They're down near B. You have to take the shuttle - looks like they're about to load as we speak."

"B? Not G?"

"No ma'am," he laughs, "sounds like rhyming gone wrong."

Laura doesn’t find the comedy in her situation. She waves a thank you and runs towards the shuttle, squeezing her body between the doors just before the shuttle departs.

She checks her watch, five minutes.

As the shuttle leaves the terminal, she sees a young woman gesturing madly on the other side of the glass, seeming to lock eyes with her own. The image seems foggy to Laura, she assumes the window pane is smudged. Laura looks behind and to her sides, no other patron is taking note of the strange person. The woman disappears before Laura could fathom reason for her behavior, quickly forgetting her existence as the doors shoot open.

As she runs towards B gate, she releases the breath she has been holding tight in her lungs – for the security office stands directly ahead.

Bursting through the office, she sees a security officer on the phone. He glances her direction, nodding, then looks her way again. She feels uncomfortable, watched. His mustache twitches as he speaks, his voice low. 

Her eyes remain glued to her watch face, knuckles swollen from running. He finally hangs up the phone and places his long, thin hands in this trousers. 

He says, “Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I left my boarding pass at the coffee shop, someone said security picked it up.”

He takes his time, rocking back on his heals. His clothes are too big for his frame and he subconsciously adjusts his slipping collar. Out of nicety she tries not to check her watch, but her wrist twitches with anticipation. 

“Ah yes, I believe I have that somewhere.” The man ruffles through his top drawer. Laura can see he is wasting time. He would have picked it up only minutes ago, wouldn’t it be placed on top? The memory of retrieval fresh? 

In a sheer chance of luck, she peers at a chair by the door. Peeking from underneath a dark hat sits her boarding pass.

He coughs, noting her realization. “Ah yes, there it is.”

She takes the pass and exits with a run, ruminating on the strange interaction. Her gut lurches again, a sensation of alarm she assumes is due to her lateness, the anxiety of the situation.

Suddenly, the intercom blasts her name, telling her to find the gate as the plane is already boarded.

She approaches the stagnant shuttle, the doors perched open as people shove their way inside. Laura grips the pole and notes the white surrounding her knuckles. She pulsates her hand, watching the blood ebb and flow under her skin and up to her nail beds. She enjoys the small reprieve but soon the doors open and reality strikes. As she exits, Laura sees her terminal ahead and runs.

The attendant is approaching the door for closure, but Laura is down a long, moving ramp, the space suddenly packed with families, strollers and carts. She is just feet away when a body suddenly collides hard against her body, throwing her against the airports metal siding and flinging her items in a multitude of directions. Her nose feels wet as blood drips down her face.

Stunned, Laura glances up, and sees a mirror not feet from her crouched pose. She thinks it’s odd, the person in her reflection is standing, then quickly departs. It’s not a reflection but a woman, perhaps ten years her senior. The likeness to her own appearance is startling. She shakes her head but the woman is gone, yet a letter sits next to her.

Laura opens the envelope. It’s made out to her, and strangely, the writing is identical to her own. 

Confused, Laura unfolds the paper within. Inside is two simple words, the penmanship rushed. 

Don’t board. 

Laura rubs the paper, touches the font. A trickle of blood drips from her nose, making a sickly sound as it collides with the paper. An attendant rushes over and helps her stand.

“Ma’am are you alright?” The woman sees the boarding pass on the ground. “Are you Laura for flight 2790?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“We can still get you on if you hurry. I’ll tell them you’ve had an accident.”

They stand and Laura pulls her hand away. “Thank you, but you know what? I don’t think I’ll be boarding after all.”

“Are you sure?”

It feels right as she answers, “Yes, but thank you for your help.”

As the attendant departs, Laura stands, stunned at the chain of events. She decides to get back on the shuttle towards B gate, she wouldn’t leave without answers.

The same security officer sits at his desk, unaware of Laura’s gander. She walks in. 

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

He looks up, startled. He nods, “I was wondering if you’d come back.”

“Why were you buying time earlier, you must have known where my pass was.”

He raises his hands as if innocent and says, “Look, I was given a fifty to hold you up some. That’s all I know. Looks like your sister I’d guess.”

“When did she come in?”

“About five minutes before you. Surprised you didn’t see her.”

Laura leaves his office and sits at a cellphone charging station to process the situation. She wonders how this person knew her boarding pass was at the security office. Was she being watched? Taking the note out of her pocket she examines it closer. Very lightly and written at the bottom boarder of the paper is a water mark, a hotel named The Martin, located here in Colorado. The address looks like it is downtown. 

Fumbling for her cellphone she Googles the hotel and address. No hotel with that name. She switches to her contacts and calls her cousin Rex who works for the city.

“No hotel with that name, sorry cuz. They’re probably trying to confuse you, you know, throw you off the scent. You could always call Auntie P, you know. And hey, sorry you missed out on the internship.”

“Penny works in the crime lab, I wasn’t mugged.”

“Yeah dummy, as a document examiner. A real Catch me if You Can.”

Laura leaves the airport and takes the shuttle back to her car. She expects something strange to happen, but there her Corolla sits, seemingly untouched.

She toys with the idea of calling her Aunt. As she drives home, she decides it’s worth the peace of mind. The choice to stay home instead of boarding the plane clearly changed the course of her life.

Her aunt Penny is eccentric, smart and often lost in whatever hobbies currently absorbs her attention. After a short discussion, her aunt was very interested in the situation.

Penny says, “Come to my office as soon as possible.”

“It’s going to be the end of day by the time I get there. Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Turning her car around Laura races towards Colorado Springs. The temperature is hot, but the wind feels cool through her windows. As she arrives, Laura feels less anxious and more grounded.

“Darling, it’s been too long.” Penny’s words are gentle but there is a serious nature reflecting in her eyes. “Come, let’s begin.”

Laura explains her story for well over an hour. She leaves with the same sensation in her stomach that graced her presence this morning, and is no closer to discovering its origin.

Laura goes about her life, almost forgetting about the airport and internship until a week passes and finally she hears word. Laura is sitting on her porch when her aunt’s car screeches to a halt, half parked on the lawn, half on the street. Penny jumps out of the car, hair disheveled with papers clutched in her wrinkled hand.

She is brisk when she says, “Inside.”

Laura opens the door and her aunt throws the documents on the table.

“You found something?” Laura says. 

“Do you have any idea what happened in the airport exactly?” Penny is speaking quickly, objectively.

“No more than what we talked about that night. I’m confused, what happened?”

“I was expecting to have something to you much sooner, it was a simple ask. But I had my suspicions, and wondered. Could it be?”

“Be what? Who is the woman?”

She points to a document. “See, the ink? I tested it, didn’t expect to find anything irregular, but The Martin doesn’t exist and I was becoming curious. It was a simple hotel pad and pen, but to us much more. It’s new.”

“New what?” 

“It doesn’t exist.”

Laura says, “You’ve lost me.”

“In the ink, there is a new material present. I’m guessing it is in the process of being invented as we stand here. I’ve reached out to a multitude of people to confirm. I’m not wrong.”

“So, the person is an inventor?”

“No, the person is you.”

Laura stays quiet, waiting for the punchline. “What?”

“Remember the likeness? How you thought you were staring into a mirror? You were in a manner of speaking. The ink doesn’t exist now but it will in the future. You’ve managed to come back from a different time. You saw yourself wave at you in the shuttle, and again with the collision.”

“Why would I come back? That can’t be. It’s not possible.”

“It’s not the first,” she smiles, “it’s amazing what you see when you start paying attention.” Suddenly, Penny’s eyes flicker, tinted with something wrong, unwell. She leans to the side and grips the kitchen counter hard, hands shaking as she looses consciousness. Laura rushes to catch her, helping her to the ground as she calls 911.

As the paramedics pull her aunt into the ambulance and slam the doors closed, Penny’s eyes briefly open. She says, “I think I just answered your question.”

Laura squeezes her hand. “What question?”

“Why you came back. If you would have boarded the plane, I would have died tonight. I think you are owed a thank you.” And with that Penny closes her eyes with the knowledge that she will see another day.