The Ghostwriter's Words

Sara: Just a corner

It was just a corner, one of many in the terminal. But reaching it, Sara exhaled the breath she'd been holding before turning and walking briskly away from the horror behind her, reminding herself not to run and draw attention.

"No offense," she hissed at Steve, "but I need to get out of this stupid fucking country. Can you give me a ride back to where you picked me up yesterday?"

Steve quickened his steps to keep pace. "I'm confused," he told her, then asked, "How does that help you get out of the country?" He reminded her, unnecessarily, "We're at the airport. Plus, I need to get back to the States too, and I'm about to miss my flight."

"I've got transport on the way to meet us there," Sara assured him, uncertain how much else she should say. "And I doubt your flight or any others are going anywhere today. I'll get you where you're going, and hopefully, we can still make it before the end of the day. That is important to me."

Sara continued to walk, not run, not to appear hurried or harried, and not to trip, as she kept a nervous watch over her shoulder. She could have sworn she'd spotted a masked face just as they'd turned the last corner, but she wasn't about to stop to confirm that suspicion. Sara picked up her pace, reminding herself don't run, even though there was nothing she wanted to do more. Trying to decide her best course of action, a silent, unintentional cry for help triggered a distress signal through her Magick Hat that she realized too late would instantly alert Sammy. And there was no possible assistance he could provide in time to matter. She was sorry if she'd disturbed him or caused him to worry.

She'd have to handle this on her own and, hopefully, draw as little attention to herself as possible. Her Angels were with her, enough of them to do anything she'd ask of them, nearly anything she could imagine. But, if she still didn't want to risk conjuring a plane or helicopter at an international airport, she also preferred to avoid a public spectacle that the other overt display of Magick she envisioned would cause.

Taking another glance behind, Sara confirmed that two masked men with guns were now trailing them. At least they weren't running. Yet. "Please, let's go," Sara told Steve. "You can ask questions in the car."

"If you had access to a private plane, why were you trying to fly home on a commercial airline?" Steve asked, not yet to the car, but he had also quickened his pace to a jog to keep up.

Because my lesbian lover for the past fifteen years threw me out when I told her about the husband she'd been unaware I had, and my thoughts were so scattered that I couldn't have conjured anything then if I'd tried. I just needed to get away and forgot to bring my Angels.

Instead, Sara told him, "I was trying to return home in time to surprise my husband for his birthday. Now, I want to get back to Claire's and..."

"Who is Claire?" he asked.

"A friend!" Fuck, double fuck! "Now, please, just drive and get us away from here," she told him, finally reaching his car, throwing her travel bag in the back and herself into the passenger seat. She didn't plan to explain her relationship with Claire. That was none of his business, and she'd already revealed far too much. Despite spending the night in his bed, she didn't know him.

"You got it!" Steve told her, spinning screeching tires as he backed out of his parking spot, bumping the car behind them and setting off its alarm. He crashed through the barrier when they reached the exit, then fishtailed onto the entry ramp to the highway.

"I assume you weren't planning to stop and pay for parking?" he asked with a smile as he accelerated away from the airport, adding, "No one behind us."

There would be, Sara knew, and soon. She told Steve, "That was an impressive display of driving, thank you. It isn't as if there is any benefit to quietly slipping away without drawing attention to ourselves."