Flight

Part 2

The meeting place was a mile away. Thoughts flitted through her mind as she walked, dragging the suitcase behind her. An engine roared as it came down the street, and she pulled the hat down low over her face and kept her eyes on the ground. The possibility that it was Karl was remote, but she wasn't taking any chances. Everything made her jumpy and nervous, each step accentuated by the pain of the new bruises. By the time she arrived, she was exhausted and collapsed into one of the outside tables. No Good, No Good she thought to herself. He might see me. And to be this close. Margaret shook the thought out of her head, and forced herself to stand, walking wearily into the small diner. The first thing she noticed was the clock, blazing neon that told her she was a half-hour early. She sighed with audible relief as she settled into a booth. The worry that had gnawed at her began to dissipate; being late for this meeting would have been a disaster.

"What can I get for you?" said the waitress, startling her so that she jumped in her seat. "Oh, I'm sorry" the young lady said, lowering her tablet. "I didn't mean to startle you." Margaret just smiled, nervously laughing off the fright that abruptly ran through her veins. Once her order was placed, she found herself alone again. Slowly, her heart regained its normal rhythm, and she silently chided herself. A half-hour from now, my new life starts. Jumping at waitresses is not how you want to begin. She took a deep breath. More Georgie, less Margaret.

The first meal she had outside of the house in years arrived at last, and she ate it with relish. Every bite seemed divine, to flow over her tongue in a way that begged her to close her eyes, so she didn't miss a single sensation. So thoroughly was she enjoying it that she didn't notice the man until he sat down across from her. She looked up, startled, into a toothy grin spread across a haggard face. "You must be Georgie." He said. She nodded, offering the man a small smile while she finished chewing. He laid a large, manila envelope on the table. "Everything you need is in there. Drivers License, State ID, Social Security card, the works." His burly hand rested on the edge of it as he spoke. "A soon as you pay, Margaret Demoni no longer exists." A grin split across his face again, revealing almost pristine white teeth.

Margaret dropped her fork, fumbling nervously with her suitcase. Suddenly, the booth seemed to close in on her, becoming very small as she grew acutely aware of just how close the strange man really was. She wished she could scoot a chair backwards to get away as her claustrophobia sunk its tiny claws into her heart. Next time, Georgie reminded herself, I'll sit at a table. No more booths. Pulling one of the money rolls out, she thrust it towards the man. He removed his hand from the envelope and snatched up the wad, unrolled it and began counting. Despite her trembling hands, she picked up the envelope and looked through its contents, paying no attention to him. In spite of his appearance, he was true to his word. She lifted the drivers' license out and turned it over in her hands. It sure looked authentic; her picture stared at her from within the plastic. Next to it was her name, her NEW name, Georgie Stamey, was inked along with an address she had never seen before. A quick search through the rest of the papers revealed the same address. Everything was perfect, something she feared would not happen when they spoke the first time, and he offered her a discount on the bundle. Gratitude built within her until it erased her anxiety, overflowing into a tear that dangled in the corner of her eye. "Thank you." She said as she smiled at the man, who had finished counting the bills. Satisfied, he nodded to himself and then briefly to her, slipping the bills into his pocket. "Remember, keep it low for a week. Don't give anyone a reason to be suspicious. It takes a little time to make a brand-new person legal. " His voice was hushed, and she was forced to lean forward to hear him. As he spoke, the smell of cigars assaulted her, lingering as much on his clothing as in his breath.