Things in the night...

CW: Harsh language

*Static*

“Good evening passengers. This is your captain speaking. Today’s flight will be a beautiful and easy flight to Cartaria. Fasten your seat belts, and wait until the plane has fully left the tarmac before getting up from your seat. Have a safe flight.”

*Static*

“God I hate flying,” A gruff voice says in the seat across the aisle.

“Then why’d you buy a damn ticket?” the woman next to him asks.

“Just get me a drink, Greta.” he responds, slamming the window shade shut with a sharp, and might I say, unnecessary thunk.

“Whatever you say dear. What do you want?” she waves down a stewardess, who weaves her way through stray legs and loose bags.

“Something strong that’ll knock me out.”

“Hi friends. What can I get ya?” the stewardess asks, her voice smoky, a light accent curling her consonants.

“Can I get my husband a couple shots of bourbon?” the wife, Greta, smiles.

“Is that it? Anything for you?” that accent draws me in, perking up my ears.

“Got any Valium?” the woman jokes, and shakes her head. The stewardess starts to walk to the back of the plane but I lightly grab her sleeve and tug, catching her attention.

“Can I help you sir?” she smiles at me, looking me up and down.

I point to the man who just ordered the drink and point to myself.

“You want the same thing?”

I nod and hold up one finger.

“Just one drink though? I can get you that hon’. Can I see your ID?”

I rifle through my pockets and pull out my wallet, which has seen better years. I pull out my ID and cringe at the old photo, back before the accident that cost me my voice. I hand it to her and she looks at the year, quietly doing the math in her head. She looks back down and notices the name badge clipped on my chest.

“Little young for a doctor aren’t you?” she jokes.

I smile and shrug, showing her I get that a lot.

“I’ll be right back with the drinks. Enjoy the flight.” She gives me a sly wink and struts down the aisle, both the man and I turning to watch her go. I turn back in my seat and make eye contact with him. He chuckles and turns back to his wife, who has pulled out about twenty home décor magazines. He frowns and looks straight ahead, the safety manual suddenly very interesting. I reach across and tap his shoulder, pointing to a book in my hand. I hand it over to him and he reads the back cover.

“You read this shit?” he huffs, eyeing me.

I wrote that shit dude.

“You mute?” he asks bluntly.

I nod my head again and I can feel my ears getting red. Almost as red as my hair.

“Well, if you think it’s good, I might as well give in a chance.” He opens the book and turns back a folded corner. “You should really invest in a bookmark. Folding the pages just causes damage.” he smiles at me and turns to the book, holding it close to his face. “Forgot my damn glasses.”

“I told you, you should have packed them.” his wife mutters, not taking her eyes off the magazine.

“Here you go sir,” the stewardess says, making me jump. She motions for me to put my tray down and I do just that, taking a light sip from my glass, wincing when the liquid fire goes down my throat.

“Finally. I was about to go back there and make it myself.” the man says. He turns to me and smiles. “Names Giles by the way. What’s yours?”

I point to my name tag and he struggles to read it. I unclip it and hand it to him.

“Ah. Elias Nansen. Nice to meet you, doctor. Taking a nice vacation?”

Not quite

“What are you here for then?”

I point to my briefcase. Work, like usual

“Oh. Why are you working in a place like Cartaria?”

Because the top dogs demand it. That’s why.

I just shake my head and give a confusing look.

“I get it. Too much to explain. Anyways, nice place to work I guess. You get to sit by the beach, watch the dolphins. Maybe meet a nice young waitress. I envy you.” He turns back to the book and struggles to read.

Yeah, I don’t think you do. No beaches or waitresses for me. Try a concrete military lab complex. Not as fun.

“Well this book is a little above my pay grade, young man.” He hands it back. “What I could understand was pretty interesting.”

For some reason, I doubt that. I just nod and smile, putting the book back in my briefcase.

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*Static*

“Attention passengers, we are about fifteen minutes from landing. If you could return to seats and finish all drinks. Seat belt lights are turning on… now.” the lights click on, “Like most landings, we are going to have a little bit of turbulence so be warned.”

*Static*

I grab my stuff and buckle my seat belt. With one final swig, I finish the drink I had been nursing. I turn to Giles and give him a comforting smile, trying not to look at his bone white knuckles gripping the armrests so tight the plastic was creaking. he smile weakly back and looks straight ahead.

“Honey, calm down. It’s just a landing.” his wife says, laying a hand on his arm. He flinches a little and chugs down the rest of his drink, his eyes getting glassy.

We land with a little jolt and before we even get to a complete stop, Giles was standing at the door, nudging the stewardess to open the door. She opens the hatch and lowers the stairs, the large man taking them so fast he almost trips on the last one, catching himself on the railing. Like true novice flyer fashion, he lays down and says something along the lines of

“Oh sweet solid earth, how I’ve missed you.”

Greta follows behind him and gives the plane crew an apologetic look.

“Honey, let’s get our stuff and head to the hotel. You are causing a scene.” She grabs his arm and somehow pulls him up. He slumps back over and grabs his bags, waving quickly at me, and I wave back, before his wife leads him by the hand to the nearest bar.

“Hope it was a nice flight,” a familiar smoky voice says behind me. I turn and see the same stewardess behind me, my bags in her hands. I grab my bags from her and take the chance to read her name tag.

Of course its Sherri. I smile and make it down the steps, setting my stuff down for a quick second, the equatorial heat shockingly muggy. I peel off my jacket and pin my name tag to my light gray t-shirt, sweat puddles already forming under my arms and around my collar. I pick my bags back up and walk to the airport entrance, the blast of cold air a sweet relief. I sigh and head over to the hotel check in desk, pulling a specialized card out of my pocket, which explains that I’m mute and that I do not know ASL or any other form of sign language. The clerk behind the desk nods and hands me a few forms to fill out. I read them over and sign where I need to. A second clerk steps out from a doorway and grabs my things, throwing them onto a nearby cart. She waves for me to follow her and I walk behind her to a beat up old car, with a faded sticker that says ‘TAXI’ in big letters. I step into the car and the driver turns to me, smiling a large gap toothed smile, his teeth yellowed with tobacco and God knows what else. I smile back and he lurches out of the parking lot, the engine sputtering and popping. Somehow, without any sort of accident, we make it to the hotel in one piece. I thank him and hand him a wad of American Dollars. He flips through the stack and gives me another smile. I grab my bags and step into the hotel lobby, taken aback by the luxury around me. I walk to the desk and they nod to me, explaining that the hotel desk at the airport called ahead and said that I was coming. I smile at the convenience and take my key.

“Everything has been paid for by the USGRD. Have a nice stay!’ the clerk says a little too energetically, practically yelling it in my ear. I load my things into another cart and roll it to the elevator. I shut the doors and turn my key, which lights up the suite button. i press it and a nice peaceful chime dings.

“Heading to the Suite Level. Please keep all digits away from the door.”

Yeah I wasn’t planning on losing a finger. Not today at least.

The motors purr quietly and the elevator glides upward, the light flashing behind each button before it makes it to the suite, which was marked with a simple cursive ‘S’.

Well that makes sense, I think to myself.

The doors swish open and I am greeted by a full view of the island, large bay windows lighting up everything in a nice warm glow. I set my bags by the door and walk through the rooms, getting a layout of the place before I set my things in the master room, which is about the size of my apartment back in Virginia. A small piece of paper sits on the right side pillow. I pluck it up and unfold it, a large spidery handwriting takes up about half the page.

𝓘 𝓼𝓮𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓵. 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓻𝓸𝔀 𝓪𝓽 10:30 𝓪𝓶. 𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓮𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓲𝓼𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭. 𝓘𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓸 𝓪𝓷𝔂𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮, 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓵 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓴 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪 𝓬𝓪𝓻 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓭.

𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓵𝔂

𝓜𝓻. 𝓛𝓪𝓾𝓭𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓸

I fold the note back up and set it on the nightstand. Like I want to explore the island. Now is relaxation time. i unpack my things slowly, selecting specific drawers for each article of clothing before I lay down on the bed. I lean over and set an alarm for eight tomorrow morning and close my eyes, the hum of the air conditioning lulling me to sleep.

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A harsh screeching sound wakes me up. I roll over to turn off the alarm but something isn’t right. The red numbers show that it’s about 11:30 pm. Nowhere near eight. I get up quickly and slip on my shoes, grabbing a flashlight out of the nightstand drawer. I stick my head into the bathroom but nothing catches my eye. I walk out into the main living area and scan my light across the floor, but nothing seems out of place. The light catches something scuttling across the window and I almost drop the light. A long, thin, stark white leg slinks over my window and onto the roof, it’s foot, if you can even call it that, making hollow tapping noises against the smooth stone. i run back to my room and grab a jacket, rushing out of my room and up to the roof access. I slam open the door and an ear-splitting trill fills the silence.

Why is there a door alarm?

I run across the roof, avoiding the cracks and divots. I swing the light around wildly and catch the leg disappear into the jungle that backs up to the building. I run to the edge and catch myself just before I fall off, a large gap between me and the dense woods. A gap that was nearly impossible to see if you weren’t right there. I look desperately into the forest but I can’t see anything. I strain my ears but no sound comes forth, which is odd, considering it’s a jungle. All sorts of animals should be out hunting right now, but apparently the apex predator was out now, and it was best to stay hidden.

Which is something that I hadn’t paid attention to

I make my way back to the door and shut it, cutting off the alarm. Another light flashes my face and into my eyes, making me squint.

“Is everything okay sir?” a security guard asks, their accent thick.

I give a thumbs up and point to my room.

“Go right ahead sir. Second time tonight it’s gone off.” he smiles and walks off, his keys and baton clanging against each other.

So that’s what woke me up.

I close my door and fall back on my bed, looking at the alarm clock, which now says twelve exactly. With a groan, I roll over, covering my face with a pillow, hoping the pressure on my eyes will help me fall asleep faster.

Dammit.

I roll back over and grab a loose folder I had sitting on the nightstand and flip it open, a sheaf of papers sliding out. Light floods the room from my lamp as I click it on and I start to read, taking little notes on a separate piece of lined paper. I flip through the pages until I find the last page, which is a radio dialogue from a nearby radio tower, which reported a strange signal disturbance in the jungle. Originally, I dismissed it as interference noise bouncing off the dense forest, but a certain detail caught my eye previously, and after tonight’s events, I thought it’d be a good idea to check over it another time. I speed through the beginning of the transcript and miss the detail. I do it again, reading slower, and I catch the detail.

Operator 1: This is Chapel Station. The interference appears to be coming from a biological source, somewhere in the upper region of the jungle. Upon further investigation, the noise appears to be insectoid in origin, a series of cicada-like buzzing heard in the noise. Will commence further investigation. End communication.

I underline the section with a pencil and put the page to the side., jotting down an quick note; Insectoid in origin. Sounds like the limb or antenna I saw. Definitely segmented with a visible exoskeleton. The sheer size of the appendage may lead to prehistoric influence or large resource consumption and low predation by other animals. I will proceed with briefing as normal and mention in private to boss.

I set the pencil down on the table and click off the lamp, my eyelids heavy with exhaustion. I fall into a dreamless sleep and wake up to a different harsh screeching noise, this time definitely the alarm clock.

I feel like I didn’t get any sleep. I think to myself. Groggily reaching for the clock, I finally find it and smack the off button, upsetting the file and scattering the papers across the floor.

SHIT

I scuttle along the floor and grab all the papers, not even bothering to put them in the right order. I throw on a change of clothes and slip on my lab coat, my name tag clipped on a little crooked. I adjust the badge and gather my things. Taking the elevator down to the lobby and eating a quick buffet style breakfast, I order a car to take me to the research facility.

“Would you like a driver as well, Dr. Nansen?’

I shake my head no. Sorry dude, no extra tip this time. I know where I’m going.

He gives a sad look and calls up a car, making sure to not get a driver. He hangs up the phone and smiles at me his teeth a little too white for my comfort. Pointing towards a couple of puffy chairs off to the right, he motions for me to sit and wait for my car. I acknowledge his effort but instead choose to pace back and forth between the chair and the door, my brain firing a million miles an hour, still trying to process what I saw last night.

Well it has to be obvious. Nothing but a weird dream. You’ve had weird dreams before. Ever since the accident.

Don’t bring up the accident. I know about the accident.

My bad dude.

Wait, why am I talking to myself? Or thinking to myself? Oh whatever, just shut up.

I decide that sitting might be a better choice and I plop down, the cushions a lot softer than I thought as I sink a good six inches into the chair, consuming me in it’s blue velvet maw. A horn honks out front and I walk out the door, my specialized card already in hand. I pass it to the driver, who reads it and hands it back, smiling in a somewhat condescending manner. He opens the driver’s side door and walks up to the lobby, where I can only assume he’ll sit until I get back.

Lucky bastard. Wish I could sit in a cushy lobby all day.

Adjusting the seat, I put the car in drive, skidding into the street, ignoring the horns honking behind me. In record time, I make it onto the main road and start the straight shot drive to the facility. Before I know it, the bland gray stone walls fill up the windshield. A man standing at the parking entrance ushers me through with one of those light stick things and I pull into an empty space towards the back of the lot.