The boy ran with all his might, the terror he felt giving him fuel to go on. Looking back he couldn’t see the wyvern that had apparently decided he looked like a good lunch; but not far off in the wood he heard its high pitched shriek. Trying to increase his speed, he stumbled over his own feet and a loud cry passed clenched teeth.
“Commence countdown!” the stalwart, strong-jawed captain said, flashing a smile
“Good Golly,” the eager-yet-green pilot said.
“Cut the chatter, you!” The captain snapped, his matinee-idol good looks clouding over.
“Atomic piles to power!” the engineer said, his voice coming into the control cockpit over the PA, “Counting down! Ten seconds to blast off!” he continued.
They heard some noises behind them. The plane pulled away from the terminal, the enclosed gangway folded back against the building.
“Huh,” she said.
“I feel…I feel like watching that plane leave should mean something to me, but I can’t think what,” he said.
It didn’t matter where he came from, nor where he was going, since he never got there. It didn’t even matter who he was because of course he wasn’t really the person he thought he was. All that mattered was that at that moment, in that tiny slice of time, that moving instant, he was a warm body on an airline, just like seventy or so other warm bodies, on a crappy, uncomfortable redeye flight from somewhere to elsewhere. It was a rough, buffeting flight, hours of air pockets and fasten-seatbelts signs and spilled coffee. It had gotten worse.
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