Wild Tiger Chase | Book #2 (Complete)

2: You can't eat money

— Léon —

Whatever he said, the man in front of Léon didn't look like a veteran airNAV pilot. Léon wondered if he had made the right choice when he asked a guy called Mr. Modraniht to take him to Old Continent. It was one of the most dangerous airplane routes in modern history—even more with the coming storm—and he really wanted to arrive in one piece.

He swallowed his nervousness and let out a sigh when he heard steps approaching.

"Mr. Dickens?"

Léon turned around to look at the voice owner, and his eyebrows twitched upward. "Hi. You must be Mr. Modraniht." Léon offered a handshake; the man accepted it with a grin.

"I never expected to receive another call on that number." Modraniht was even taller, bulkier, and older in person, with warm black eyes and big hands of hairy and stubby fingers circled by way too many gold bands. There was a deep scar cutting the right side of his chin and another on the bridge of his crooked nose. Contrasting with those, his voice was calm and soft, gentle like a feather. "You look younger than you sound. I thought you'd be a forty-something when we talked on the phone."

"I get that a lot." Léon's chuckle was a soft, low rumble. "You... sound your age."

Modraniht laughed. "Which means I sound almost fifty-five. Thanks for not pointing that out." He let out a loud laugh and shuffled Léon's short brown hair. "I think I'm gonna like you, kid."

Léon tried on a smile and took a step back. He tucked his thumbs under the straps of his backpack and pulled them up like a little child. There was something so fatherly about Modraniht that Léon didn't exactly know how to act around him. The only person Léon could think of that had that same aura was Grandpa Jo—and they had stopped talking more than a decade ago, when Bonee almost bit Grandma's hand off, and she kicked him and Amma out of the house.

"I'm... I'm sorry for cutting your holidays short," Léon said. "I wish I could wait a few more days, but with the situation in OC and the storm coming...."

"Nah. I remember your mother and brother. They're good people." Modraniht snatched Léon's bags and threw them into the small compartment of the two-person airNAV. "If you're anything like them and I can help in any way, it'll be my pleasure to do so." He flicked his cigarette butt on the floor and squashed it under his boot.

"Right," Léon answered with a smile. Was it weird to note his cigarette smelled like clove and roses? "I just...." Léon shut his eyes and balled his hands at his sides; his heartbeat sounded loud against his ear. Léon needed to tell him the truth. He couldn't hide the dangers of this trip. "Listen, Mr. Modraniht... you must know that NC will close its borders to Old Continent in a couple of days. Oh, and there's a storm approaching Cidade Santa, so you'll have to be twice as quick to come back. I'll...." The words stuck in his throat, but he forced them to come out. "I'll understand if you don't want to come. I know you have family here. But I... it wouldn't be right to let you take me without knowing the risks."

With the silence that issued, Léon peeked at the older man. With arched eyebrows, Modraniht studied Léon like a doctor studying a patient. Finally, he smiled.

"Yeah, I already knew all that." He patted Léon's arm and chuckled. "You're a good kid all right," he mumbled, turning around. "You have a leave permit, I hope?" And as if the storm and the sickness and the closing borders were nothing but pebbles on his way, Modraniht fished a rag from his back pocket and started polishing the airNAV's spinner. "We'll be contacted mid-air when we cross the border, and I'll need to give'em your request number."

Pursing his lips, Léon shuffled his feet. Modraniht was a weird man.

Léon liked him.

"I don't have one," Léon answered. New Continent's authorities liked to have ironclad control over the population's whereabouts. More than that, they used that information to find the perfect reason to expel people from their little paradise. New Continent made it easy to leave and almost impossible to get in, so the only way for someone to join the New Continentians was if one of them got out. Most of the time, there was no going back from giving up your spot.