The Hungry and the Rushed

Written in response to: Set your story in an airport, as someone rushes for a flight.... view prompt

2 comments

Speculative

Warning: I expect a review of the sex scene.


The memory of it. Fire and Plasticine smoke, that was the last thing she remembered. Then she lived anyway. To match with the misfortune of her predicament, she made use of what was left in the hull. So willing was she to survive, she’d eaten- There was only so much meant to be eaten on a plane.


It didn’t matter much, survival was paramount. But now she was back before all that, in an airport on Christmas eve. It was a long flight last time, but maybe it would feel shorter this time round.


“I'd like to buy a plane ticket to your furthest destination today,” An apparently rushing stranger asks, a bit too loud for the acoustics of the space. 

Everything was so quiet before, no static, no noise. But she remembers dozing off before her flight, and it doesn’t surprise her that this is when she’d wake up.


Kayla only wondered absently whether it was a joke on the part of that entity or was some amalgam consequence of a personally rare sleeping position.


The airline employee went on autopilot with the appropriate questions, before she fell back into memories she shouldn’t possess, realigned imperfectly into the forefront of her thoughts. Were she and him ever on the same plane?


If Kayla were honest about her non-memories she’d be able to say, “faces rot.” But instead she was left with disgust at her own mind saying, “of course not.” and though unsatisfied with the answer, she was happy enough to keep such thoughts to herself.


Airports were always busy, and it only made for trouble having anything that looked like an episode in one, but she felt the instinct of a lonesome habit that she was happy to beat down.


She wondered if, despite her nature, she’d been lonely before all that. Before the body before the crash.


She doesn’t remember the airport being so empty, but she also didn’t remember the man, maybe it just slipped. As she woke up more her thoughts clarified a little, maybe it had all been a dream. 

But Kayla couldn’t say she’d ever eaten pork jerky before, let alone unseasoned, so she still couldn’t say either way. 


She looked over at the man, who’d apparently been told to wait. He wasn’t much to look at, his face stopped just short of handsome, but he was also clean save the faint anxiety he gave off. He didn’t have the strung frame of somebody one would assume was neurotic, but Kayla had known too many kinds of people to assume anything.


She was surprised for a moment at his relative proximity to her. The place was relatively empty so it wasn’t inexplicable that he’d choose a spot with a bit of distance from her and her doubtlessly disheveled appearance, but it still came off as overly conscious.


Other than that, he seemed to have a bit of that off duty cop vibe. It was just a hunch though, he might’ve just been a bit stale. Yes, use cynical food descriptions in reference to a stranger.


That’s really nice.


She thought for a moment, and decided to look through her bookbag, that was her carry on if she remembered right. To spite her continued use of the bag, she honestly didn’t remember what was in it at first.


Still totally a dream.


There were a few smaller bags inside full of different toiletries, medicine, contraceptives including an unused FC2. That wasn’t surprising given her memory of the month before, it just felt odd to see her bag without the stains.

She wasn’t sure if that was the kind of thing a brain could invent visually, so she was at a loss as to the veracity of her most recent memories still. Luckily her electronics were still usable, rather than lost like they were by the end of all that. Kayla was beginning to accept what happened, at least a little.


Trouble was, as she looked down at her phone, her bank account. Kayla hadn’t thought to look when she’d woken up before, before the crash, but in and amongst recognizable transactions, she saw all kinds of unexpected transfers.

She was suddenly nostalgic for the simplicity of the hull. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t this. “Ah.”


He looked over to her, like her breath was surprising. It wasn’t helpful, but his immediate worry made him quite a bit more handsome than before. The shift from that to a quizzical brow was amusing also.


Not wanting to be without the attention, “Do you remember it being Christmas eve this morning?”


“Ah, yes.” he went still and looked away. He’d been anxious before but now he just seemed embarrassed, like he expected her to bite.


Sweet.


“Have you ever watched true crime?” she asked, before continuing absently. “I used to watch it alot, before I forgot that today was Christmas eve.” 


“Well, how long were you out?” he said, catching the latter.


“See that’s it. I know it was only a half-hour, this time, but I feel like it’s been longer since today.” she said a bit too bright, forgetting the documentaries she remembers enjoying. It was really so long ago.


“That must be nice.” He said with a sweet irony to his voice. 


“Oh, it is.” she replied coyly, “Have you ever eaten unseasoned pork jerky?” she asked, though she doesn’t much care what his answer is.


“No. Sounds like a health hazard.”


“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m-”, she stopped herself, it was a bit much to lay on a stranger. “- I think the dream I had was more vivid than it needed to be. And I’m a bit scared.”


“I feel like it all happened. And I think it’s an omen.”


“What do’ they got a hit out on ya?”, he said, with a fiendish timbre.


She looked into that dark sound and was enticed, “You think I’m annoying enough for that?”


“No.”


“Good.” She was happy with his answer, it was really the least of her preferences since it was on the table. She waited a moment before moving to the seat beside him, “So, do you know if you have a silicone allergy?”


“Yes, so no.”


“That’s a good way to answer.” she said, touching his knee. She felt the glint in his eye, before stealing a little something from her bag, and leading him alongside her to the bathroom, leaving their bags much unattended.

If it were for any other feeling she’d have felt the fool, but the space was mostly empty, and she needed human contact.


They barely got through the door, before he pulled her into a strange racked kiss, pulled in and down by whatever plagued his mind.


“So, do you plan on killing me?” he asked sweetly, in and between well placed kisses. A leading path down her neck.


“Don’t worry, only to eat you up,” Setting herself a small laugh, repositioning for herself pushing him away before leading him to the handicap stall. It would’ve been nice to say that she wasn’t that sort before today, or before the lost half-hour, but she didn’t need to lie in her mind.


He kept a sweet pace, sweeping her off her feet, so as to grind into her properly. She thought for a moment that he might not need to go farther, but she already had a game plan, pushing him a bit for traction before asking him, “Don’t you want a bit more?” 


“Yeah,” 

Fair enough, she took precautions and let him in.


This body of her’s didn’t need it, but goodness did it sate her memory. Nary a human touch, lost before that last strange whisper, and quite simply she was back in her body.


December 25, 2021 02:49

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2 comments

Ruth Porritt
08:39 Dec 26, 2021

Hello Kathleen, I think this story is brilliant! :) “Have you ever eaten unseasoned pork jerky?” This dialogue made me grin. Wonderful! Smoothly done (really, no pun intended) sex scene. I also admire how you artfully wove in the main character's history without going overboard. (This is what I am working on, in my own short stories.) Many thanks, and have a great boxing day, Ruth

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Kathleen `Woods
16:53 Dec 26, 2021

Thanks for reading! This was my first attempt at a piece that did more than simply mention sex as a part of life or imply it gently with highly obscured language. I’m glad the dialogue played well, that was kind of a tough spot before the sex scene decision. Have a great boxing day, I plan on overlocking an Ex-skirt to celebrate.

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