Swell: Account of the Change, #1

SWELL

Account of the Change

J.G. Johnson

Swell Copyright © 2019 by J.G. Johnson. All Rights Reserved.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. 

Cover designed by Michael Chaney 

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. 

J.G. Johnson

Visit my website at www.nascentbooks.com 

Printed in the United States of America 

First Printing: 2019

ISBN-13 978-1393381099

CONTENTS

DEDICATION

NEW START

BUMP, BUMP, BOOM

GROUNDHOG DAY

TEACUPS OF DOOM

NOTHING BUT A FLESH WOUND!

DON'T WORRY! WE GOT PLASTIC CUPS THIS TIME

SHAKE IT UP

GEAR UP

GATEWAY TO THE SOUL

SAY WHAT?

MUST GO FASTER

IT’S SO FLUFFY

LUAU

CRACKLE SNAP BOOM

MEET AND GREET

TO SEA

A BOX AND A CAT

WELCOME TO THE RESISTANCE

REMINDER: NEVER FLY WITH YOUR MOUTH OPEN

CANE OF DOOM

DRUMS OF REBELLION

WOOF

SEEDS

SPROUTS

DANCE BY FIRELIGHT

HAVOC

I HATE CROWDS

A PLACE TO CALL HOME

FATE

AFTERWARD

BY J.G. JOHNSON

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DEDICATION

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Many thanks to the people that have supported and encouraged me to chase my dreams and my heart. Without you, I never would have been able to go the places I have, seen the things I have seen, and learned just how big the world really is. This book is for you, and it is for everyone that still believes that dreams aren’t dead. Don't let anyone tell you what is impossible; only you know what is impossible for you. So, live your dream and follow your gut. Lastly, never fear chasing the squirrels and bunnies of your life. They may just lead you to your destiny, and even if they escape, you will have learned something. You have a brain, a heart, and a soul, never stop feeding them.

Also, to my readers, thank you for your patronage. I write because there is a story crying out to be told, but what good is a story without a reader? Thank you for being that reader and taking the time to share in the worlds that I have created. Please enjoy and drop a review if you enjoyed this story or if you have any comments.

NEW START

Saturday, June 26

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You ever wake up one day and think, 'Today is the day that everything is going to change?' I mean, like real change, the kind of change that did in the dinos, wiped out the mammoths, ate the dodos?

Dude, no more anime for you! Just because we're all going to Japan, it doesn't mean something daunting is going to happen requiring the rise of a champion to lead the starved, beaten, and weary to victory against all odds, Jake! Mick Renalds retorted with a snort from his window seat. Blond hair, blue eyes, 23, pushing 6"5,' and with a physique that would make a mountain troll princess swoon, he was about as opposite as you could get from Jake. But, like the dreamer next to him, he was on his way to Japan to work as an English Assistant Teacher - EAT for short. He was also a realist. Had he watched his fair share of Anime? You bet. And he enjoyed tearing holes in their plots.

Yeah, sometimes things happened, standing convention on its head, but that was just the undeniable truth making its presence known. Try to tell that to a dreamer like Jake, and you were in for a long argument with someone who could almost make the unbelievable sound believable. Imagine if he ever learned the truth.

He had no idea how Jake could do it, but on the drop of a dime, he could lead you down a most plausible-sounding rabbit hole and not only drag you through Wonderland but make you accept that you weren’t tripping and that the Caterpillar was actually a larval telepathic alien learning about how messed up the human psyche really was as its Ph.D. thesis.

In a lot of ways, it was a wasted talent. Had Jake ever applied himself to something like politics or business, he would have been a force to be reckoned with. Alas, every time I even mention such an idea to him, he gets a dead serious look on his face and says something like, 'You do not want a person like me in a position like that. I might just succeed.' Which is probably for the best. Honest dreamers meet tragic ends, and things could become ticklish for his continued existence should he show up on others' radar. He sighed, casting a sideways look at his friend. Some secrets are best left sleeping.

One of these days, something is going to happen, shattering that protective dome of reality Mick relies on so heavily upon. Hopefully, it isn't to his detriment. I'd hate for Mick to be Dodo-ized. Where's your sense of adventure, man? Jake Jameson demanded, disappointed in Mick’s apparent refusal to dream.

Jake was the epitome of average. Look in the dictionary for a picture of average white American, and there he was. 5"10', short sandy brown hair, and an average if slightly athletic build. Check, yep normal. His marbled hazel green eyes, which gave those who stared the feeling that a swirling galaxy was gazing into their soul, were the only thing abnormal about him. He also looked a good five years younger than he actually was at 26. He'd never could decide if that was a good or bad thing.

What do you call what we are about to do? Mick demanded. Considering what they were currently doing, Jake's question made little sense. It's not like you, me, and the fifty or so others with our group alone, aren't moving to another country where the culture, language, and environment is starkly different from anything most of us have ever experienced! Some of us may even stay and start whole new lives! he retorted, watching as his chastisements bounced harmlessly off of Jake's chipper mood.

Well, yeah. But that's a little adventure. I'm waiting for the big one to come along! Jake replied, practically bouncing up and down with anticipation. He couldn't explain it, but somewhere deep down, maybe in his atoms themselves, something was screaming that there was more, much more, out there than mankind had ever imagined. or forgotten, the voice whispered, half-heard, in his head. He did his best not to think about it. The voice had been there for as long as he could remember, but he had been smart enough not to let anyone know after he slipped up once and freaked out his family. He didn't want people thinking he was crazy.

Well, let's hope your grand adventure is kind enough to wait until we land in Japan. I don't have any desire to wind up like those people in the TV show having a shared final delusion. Oh, and wake me when we land! Mick asked, promptly passing out before the Jet was airborne.

Oh, the injustice of it. Down with those strange mutants who can sleep on planes. Oh well, let's see what movies they have for us today? The screen cut out just as he reached for it.

This is your Pilot speaking. Please give your attention to the safety video and the flight-attendants as we prepare for take-off. This flight should take ten and a half hours. Unfortunately, there is a typhoon sitting off the coast of Japan, which may add some turbulence and cause a slight delay, but we expect to land around four on Sunday afternoon. Thank you for flying Allen Air, the announcement cut out, and the safety-video started as the fight-attendants pantomimed along.

Typhoon? That wasn't on the weather forecast this morning. Hum. Maybe it's a good thing Mick was asleep. He may be able to quote the statistics, but the lizard part of his brain refuses to believe them. 'Man was not meant to fly!' Oh, well. Wait, was that a cat on a Roomba?

BUMP, BUMP, BOOM

Sunday, June 27

––––––––

Mick had not slept much for the last few hours as they approached Tokyo. No one but the dead had, and even their sleep wasn't peaceful. To say the turbulence was severe would have been an understatement on par with saying they only hadn't crashed yet because the wind was so strong that they couldn't fall from the sky. The seatbelt light had been on full time. The two fools who had tried to get up had found themselves bouncing off the ceiling of the fuselage as the jet hit a particularly turbulent patch, plummeting and rising several thousand feet several times in a row like a demented lead yo-yo. Between the injured man, the restless ‘dead’ man and the freak-out factor he induced in some passengers and his stench, and the headwinds which had reduced them to flying on less than fumes, they couldn’t divert and were being allowed to land despite the raging typhoon.

One way or the other, we are coming down.

Well, Mick, it looks like we won't end up like those folks in the show. According to the map, we are over Japan. Granted, we still need to land. Preferably on land and on a runway. Bad things happen when jets do crunchies on buildings, and with the waves, a water landing would be pure suicide. In one piece would be nice but alive will do, Jake jabbered as the jet shuddered, emphasizing just how dubious that proposition was. There was no doubt that they would soon be on the ground but in one piece? Well, that was another question altogether.

The shudder elicited fresh moans of pain from mister 'seatbelt signs don't mean nothing’ and a bit of flopping limbs from the dead one and caused several more people to retch.

Jerk! Mick retorted, white-knuckled and holding onto his seat for dear life.

Attention!!! We are now banking in for our landing. Remain seated! And a little prayer might be a good idea, the Pilot gritted out. You could hear the strain in his voice from hours of fighting like a one-armed strongman trying to bench-press a squirming elephant in freefall to control the jet. If you listened at all, you could hear the strain going through the fuselage in jolts, creaks, groans, and what sounded like cracking and rivets popping.

Did the Pilot just suggest we seek divine intervention for a safe landing? Mick asked, going even whiter than Michael Jackson.

If he gets much whiter, he'll either become a ghost or a pop star. Though at this rate, we might all be there with him. What fun. Jake smiled gleefully as he answered Mick. You see, if you had a little faith, that would have given you a little reassurance. For today is either your time, or it's not! he explained in a perfect seminar drone at stark odds with the hysteria surrounding them. In the end, that is what it always comes down to!

Dude, you’re not helping, Mick growled, through clenched teeth, worried about biting his tongue as he glared at his 'friend.' Why did I ever think being his friend was a good idea? Oh, because he is usually only an amusing degree of crazy.

Jake just had time to grin, glancing out the window beside Mick, when a sudden gust swatted the jet almost 45̊ off course. Which was bad. It was made worse by the fact that the jet had been about to go wheels down. By some miracle, it had been almost parallel with the runway but was now just shy of sideways.

Before the Pilot had a chance to correct, they touched down. Things went good. For about .003 seconds. Then the right-side landing gear collapsed in a screech of torn metal and exploding hydraulics and pneumatics. Granted, it was barely audible over the screaming of the passengers and maybe some maniacal laughter that definitely wasn’t coming from Jake. Probably. It could have been some other person.

The wing soon buckled as the fuselage’s weight and momentum bore down on it, folding under in a gout of flame that would have done a cranky Dragon proud as the Jet tumbled over it. The other wing joined it as the jet completed rolling.

Surprisingly, the fuselage had been holding up remarkably well, but being treated like a seesaw over two wings was more than it could take. Just behind the rear wing joint, a third of the way back in coach, and right in front of where Jake and Mick were sitting, the two halves of the fuselage separated. It wouldn’t have been too much of an issue except for the fuel truck.

Jake only got a glimpse of the ensuing fireball consuming the forward thirds of the jet as they continued to roll over. After several more rotations, Jake's third slowed and coming to a halt at only a slight angle as the storm bared its fangs into their faces. Seeing as how the rows in front of them had torn free, they were now effectively moved to the first-class and had plenty of extra legroom.

I've always wanted to fly first-class. Now that I'm here, I don't see what all of the hype is about. Jake quipped, grinning at Mick, who didn’t reply.

Well, we're on the ground, and we crashed in a storm on an island in the Pacific. Yep, sounds just like that show. Pinch me quick and see if this is a hallucination, Jake joked as he stopped the recording he'd been making since just before things went sideways, horizontally so. Getting out of his seat, he pulled his Indiana-Jones-style leather messenger bag from Saddleback leather out of the overhead and grinned out into the fury of the storm. As the lightning flashed, Mick could see him clearly - and even the devil himself, after reaping a world, would have been scared to tread near him.

Jake sighed, basking in the fury and power of the storm, almost feeling like its energy was soaking into his very bones. It strangely felt like home. Returning to the here and now, he got down to the business at hand. His other luggage was either down below, or it was in the other half being consumed by the flames. Not that he was going to go crawling through the bowels of the plane looking for it. Truth be told, he couldn't care less about his other luggage. He had his bag, which had taken him years to find and afford, and that was enough.

Mick barely acknowledged him. It was clear that he wasn't ready to move yet, but the excitement was killing Jake, and after fourteen hours in the Jet, most of it sitting, he needed to move, so he waved and made his exit.

The flashing lights of the emergency vehicles were just becoming visible through the wall of lukewarm water deluging him as he climbed out and down the jagged face of the fuselage to the ground.

Unsurprisingly, he was alone on the ground. Mick and the others were just starting to come to grips with the fact that they were still alive-ish, so he was the only one present as the response vehicles congregated around him. Nothing could be done for those in the other half of the jet, except watch as the storm doused the flames. He took a few more pictures of the scene just for the memory of it, and as proof should the conversation ever come up again.

Get the people off of the jet. Be on the lookout for injuries, or people going into shock. You! I don't know how you got here so fast or who you bribed for a ride, but until we see to the safety and recovery of the passengers, the media is strictly prohibited, the response Chief bellowed.

It took Jake a moment to realize the comment was directed at him. Oh, I'm happy to leave, but I'm a passenger, not a reporter, he shouted back over the rage of the storm, trying to keep a fit of maniacal laughter under control and slipping his phone back into his pocket before it was ruined by the rain or confiscated.

Passenger? Passengers aren't supposed to self-extract from a crash like this. He even has his bag! Lying piece of trash reporter! You expect me to believe... Chief started as he closed on Jake. He was just short of jabbing his finger into Jake's chest when a ticket stub appeared in the air between them and halted his jab like some kind of talisman.

My ticket. My friend is still up there in... Well, I guess first-class, seeing as how our seats are now the front row. It’s the first time I've ever been in a first-class seat. I don't get what all the hype is about, it's awfully breezy. And wet. He scowled at his sodden clothes and the scum-pond-warm rain. I doubt I'll recommend it to anyone else after this experience. Anyways, I tried to get him to come with me, but I think he is still coming to grips with life, mortality, the number 42, and all those other things a near-death experience elicits. He's a stout sort with the thews of an Ogre and the face of a cherubim with a toothache. I expect he will recover shortly, and you can verify with him that I am who I say I am. In the meantime, I'd like to get out of this soup, he explained to the befuddled Chief, who was still glaring disbelievingly at his ticket. I think I'll need that back to get through customs, he prompted.

Yeah, umm, one of those people over there is seeing to transporting the passengers, he said, returning the ticket.

Thank you. Jake smiled as he plucked his ticket free and wizarded it away in as safe of a place as he could. Crash or no, he was still going to need to get through immigration and customs. At least it isn't cold. Warm Typhoon? Who knew? Although I never thought I would wish for freezing rain. This lukewarm stuff is nasty. Thankfully, it was only a short walk to the busses.

So, I hear this is where we wait for a lift to freedom? Jake asked one of the people waiting idly by the shuttle-busses. He was thoroughly soaked, but there wasn't much to be done for it. His jacket was in his checked bags, which were either okay or were burned to a crisp.

Huh? Oh! We didn't think they would get anyone off so soon. If you don't mind waiting, take a seat, and we'll shuttle you in once we have a group together, the driver said, popping the shuttle bus doors open to let him in.

Don't mind much at all. You wouldn't happen to know if immigration is still open? I'd like to get my foreigner card and get off to a hotel. A change of clothes would be swell also, Jake asked, taking a seat behind the driver.

I think they are. At least they should be for about another hour. Your flight was supposed to be the last one in until the storm passed, and we were going to shut down for safety right afterward, the driver answered, pulling off his cap and scratching his head in thought. Forget it. The terminal's right there, and it will probably be a while before anyone else shows up. I'll run you over there if you'd like.

That would be great!

I hope you don't take this the wrong way... But aren't you a little too calm for someone who just walked away from a life or death experience? the driver asked, making somewhat idle chit-chat as he drove.

Is not being an emotional train wreck after a major accident so strange? Well, put that way, I guess it is. Then again, there was that time I went over a cliff and only lived because of a fallen tree; and when I was in that head-on roll-over and walked away without a scratch. Yep, I am a little odd. I guess. But the way I figure it, we really don't have much control over things in the grand scheme of things. All you can do is live every day in a manner you won't regret tomorrow.

The driver stared at him for a moment. How old are you?

26, Jake stated with a quizzical look. Why do people always ask that?

Too stinking young to be thinking that way! And he looks even younger. The driver started to ask another question but was cut short by their arrival at the terminal. Well, I'd like to chat more, but this is your stop, and I need to be getting back before the Chief throws a conniption fit. He's a real stickler for rules and procedures, but he's no fool or bureaucrat and has a healthy, if dry, sense of humor. He opened the door to let Jake off and followed him out to unlock the man-door, letting him in. Welcome to Japan, and I hope your stay is much more relaxing than your arrival.

Jake gave him a velociraptor grin. You kidding? I hope this is just the start of my journey, and it only ramps up from here. Talk about an epic start to an epic adventure.

The door slipped from the driver's grip and swung closed. There was something there. I could see it in his eyes. It wasn't crazy, but it was a darned close cousin. I wonder what the world looks like through his eyes. On second thought... No. No, I really don't want to know. Some things man was just not meant to know.

Well, time to get a move on before I get interdicted in the airport overnight. Those airport chairs are a real pain in the back, butt, neck, body... Mick should have a great time. He chuckled darkly as he pictured Mick hanging over both ends of a bench, trying to get some sleep. Being normal-sized has a few advantages. Although, here I guess I'm above average. That thought further spread his grin, and he started to whistle as he walked through the deserted halls of the airport, the motion lights flipping on a step ahead of him like a cheap horror movie. Yes, life is good.

The signs for immigration were blaring and easy to follow. Being the last flight in and the first one off had its perks; there was no need to wait in line. On the other hand, the agents were a little startled when he wandered in alone, and if not dripping wet, then still soggy.

Sir? One of the agents asked, walking up to him. Where did you come from? All of the agents were actively staring at the strange apparition who had manifested out of the dark.

Jake didn't mind, amused at having caught the agents flatfooted. The plane that just landed, he answered with a wry smile.

The agent looked over his shoulder at the others who looked just as baffled as he felt. We haven't had any planes land or take off for hours.

Jake understood their confusion, but that didn't keep him from enjoying it, and he barked a course laugh. My bad, a little dark humor. You know the whole 'any landing you walk away from thing,' he explained, pulling out his ticket and documents and handing them over.

The agent took one look at them and blanched. What in the world is this guy doing here? Did he get thrown free and somehow manage to find an open door and wander in? Is he a ghost? Sir, I'm just checking, but are you sure you are all alright? You do realize you were just in a major crash?" he asked, loud enough to cue in the other agents who were now practically staring lasers of disbelief and a few of fear.

Yes, Jake answered with as straight of a face as he could manage, which was quite the feat since he was cracking up on the inside. Why does everyone seem to doubt my sanity tonight? Well, I guess I know why, but I still don't understand it. I had a front-row seat for a good chunk of it. Is this going to complicate immigration in some way?

For the life of him, the agent felt that there was something frightfully askew with the current situation. Even more amiss than the wreckage still smoldering out in the storm. But there was no rule barring, one 'Jake Jameson' he read the ticket, from passing through immigration. So, being a good bureaucrat, he did what came naturally to his race and stalled. You do realize that your checked baggage will not be available for pick-up at this time?

Yes, I figure there's only a fifty-fifty chance that it hasn't been destroyed. Be nice if it hasn't, but I expect, given everything that has happened, that if/when its whereabouts become known, it will get to me. Any other issues? I figure if I can get out of here soon enough, I'll be able to buy some dry clothes before the stores close tonight, Jake answered. And waited, letting his eyes hold those of the agent. He didn't know why, but it seemed to unnerve the man.

No, the agent squeaked, breaking eye contact and fighting to keep his feet as he felt like an ant about to get belly-flopped by a blue whale.

Jake cleared his throat to regain his attention. So, I'm free to go ahead then! Which lane? he asked, shouldering his bag and straightening his sodden clothes as best he could. Have to look snazzy for my picture. He sneered at the impossibility of that.

Eto? Wanting to run with every fiber of his being, the agent cast his gaze around and waved towards Lane-two. Lane-two, if you please, he said out of habit.

Lane-two shot him a look that definitely said, 'are you crazy? And why are you getting me involved in this!' but it was too late to change anything now.

Jake ignored the exchange and made his way over, set down the necessary paperwork, and waited. Again. I hate airports!

The gate-agent stopped glaring at the flabbergasted agent and turned his attention to Jake and began processing his ticket and passport. Are you sure you wouldn't rather wait for the others and have someone check you? he asked, glancing up at Jake before pressing enter.

I'm alive, I'm wet, and a little hungry. I'm not in shock, and I am showing no signs of internal or external injury. I could use a drink, a shower, real food, and some dry clothes. So yes, I'm sure I would rather leave now than get caught up in all the red tape that is undoubtedly going to be flying all over the place here soon, Jake answered, letting a hint of sarcasm and agitation into his voice.

The agent cringed and fought down an inexplicable urge to hid under his desk. I'm so going to get chewed out over this. Against his better judgment, he pressed enter instead, wanting the apparition before him gone more. A minute later, Jake's residence card spit out, and he handed it over along with an explanation and directions sheet. He pointed at a circled section. Be sure to register your address within 14 days at your city office. Welcome to Nihon.

This was not Jake's first rodeo. He'd been through immigration in Japan once before and knew the drill. Although the scared animal routine was new. The storm and crash must have them really freaked out. He put the fresh, still hot, card away in his damp wallet and opened his bag for the first time since landing to put away his paperwork. Well, at least my computer and camera seem to have survived intact.

Customs was like immigration, except that the agent called in his boss this time.

You do realize that you were in a major accident? Boss asked to the emphatic nodding of the agent who had called him over.

Yes. I understand that the whereabouts of my remaining luggage is unknown, also. So, I'll need the customs form to have it forwarded to me or to be notified of its loss when its disposition is determined. In the meantime, it's been a long day, and there are still hours to go before it is over. Are the busses still running? Jake asked he realized that, given weather that could - and had - swat a jet out of the air, they may have halted service. A momentary vision of cartwheeling buses mowing down the highway flitted through his mind, making him smile

I think they were holding one for your group's arrival, but I'm not sure if it's still here. And the trains are down because of the wind and flooding. There might be an intrepid taxi hanging around for a desperate fare? Boss explained. Wait, why am I telling him his options for leaving when I'm trying to convince him that it is an ill-conceived idea.

Well, worst case is I get stuck in the terminal until service picks up again, but those are the breaks. So, am I clear to exit customs? Jake prodded.

Uh? Dang-it! There's nothing I can hold him on. Letting him through just seems so wrong. Welcome to Japan, and I hope you have a pleasant stay, he said, reluctantly waving him through.

Heh, people keep saying that. Thanks! Jake answered with a little smirk, shaking his head as he entered the main terminal.

He threw on his sticker badge, marking himself as a part of the cultural exchange group. There was a surprising number of people waiting out there. Must have been here to meet friends and family. Oh, wait, that one's a driver. Make that friends, family, and business. Don't think his fare will be showing up. Now, where's the CE-J (Culture Exchange Japan) group flagger. Ah, there's a sign. Yep, the shirt matches. Best make myself known.

Hungry, almost rabid looking for any information, the crowd and their starved eyes locked in on him as they took notice of his arrival. Feeling like a mouse in a lion's den, he quickly slipped amongst them, trying to get lost in the crowd.

It was a small crowd, and being an average height American, he still stood a head above most of them. The first hand caught his sleeve and a cell phone screen with a picture of a young man blocked his path.

Have you seen this person? Did they make it? Are they okay? the person begged, starving for any ray of hope and on the verge of tears.

Crap! I knew I was forgetting something. I just became the only source of info these people have access to. Best to be direct and broad in this circumstance. He was just about to speak up when a video camera, its crew, and a reporter showed up. The CE-J director had also taken notice and was moving in. They were going to have a fight on their hands if they attempted an extraction without him saying something. But, if he did, that camera was going to have it airing before he cleared the terminal.

Excuse me, Jake asked too little avail. Excuse me! He projected just short of a shout. The crowd quickly stilled as every eye turned on him. That got their attention. Why can't people use their indoor voices? He could see the blasted red recording light flickering on the camera. I hate attention. I wonder if that is a strange thought for someone who is supposed to be supporting a cultural exchange? Something to think about later. Let's get this over with.

Yes, I was on the jet. I was in the coach section three rows back from the wing. I don't know how anyone ahead of me is. As a majority, those behind me seemed intact! Maybe a little in shock but alive from what I could see. If you have any specific questions, you will need to ask the responders or the authorities, Jake answered as clearly as he could without hanging himself out to dry by saying anything more. Like how I'm 99.73% sure everyone ahead of my section is dead. Oh, no. To utter such a thing would see me crucified even if it's true. The media would find some way to make it my fault.

While the crowd was still digesting the news, Jake literally ‘bowed out,’ making for the coordinator who was just as dazed as everyone else. Excuse me, he said, getting their attention, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't mind telling me where I'm supposed to go. It's been a rather long day, and I've never been too fond of airports, he prodded, snapping his fingers in front of their face when they didn't respond. They flinched, but the distant look left their eyes, and they focused on him.

Umm? The CE-J director started. What the hell? This wasn't covered in training. Lost luggage? Yep, we got you covered. Feeling sick? Got that too. They even covered arrests for contraband in customs. But freak storms, crashed jets, missing and traumatized people. Nope, that was not covered. Deep breath. Stay focused. One bag? Start with the easy stuff. Is that all of your luggage? she asked. It sounded like an idiotic question, but it was something she knew how to handle.

Is this the only thing anyone knows how to ask? For now, this is all I have. My other bags' disposition is unknown.

Well, there is a form you can fill out for lost luggage pick-up/delivery. If you follow me, we can get it filled out. I hope you still have your baggage claim stubs? she asked, looking over her shoulder to check that he was following and understood.

Right here, Jake said, patting his pocket with his passport and other flight-related documents as he followed the director out of the ‘danger zone,’ smiling as the song started in his head.

Seeing as he was the only person looking to process through, the paperwork went quickly. Even with the pesky sheeple questions. I'm a little surprised no one has directly questioned my sanity. As if summoned from the depths of Tartarus itself, the exit doors were flung aside as the Chief from the crash site bore down on him.

Stop!

I was so close. Three steps and I could have been out the door and on my merry way, but no, we can't have that, now can we! Grr, there had better not be bacon in the soap! Not now when I have come so far. Soap would be fantastic, though. I'd kill for a shower right now. That and a dry pair of boxers. Wet wedgies are the worst.

Just what do you think you're doing?! Chief demanded. The CE-J director tried to interpose but was quickly cowed, practically mooing, as he blew by her.

Crap! There's bacon in the soap. I was afraid something like this would happen. I wasn't aware that there was any reason I needed to stay? Jake hedged, playing coy. In actuality, there were any number of reasons he could think of as to why he wouldn't be allowed to leave, but that didn't mean he had to share them. Best to throw the ball back in his court and make him think up a few of his own and see what I have to work with.

Are you crazy or something. People do not simply walk away from major crashes and go about their business like nothing happened. There's legal paperwork, questions, and information to be gathered, and last but not least, a check-up to ensure that you are fit to be up and moving around. And that's just the basics! Chief barked but quickly recovered before the growl became too prominent.

Someone finally asked if I'm crazy. That makes me a little happy for some reason. I wonder if that is a good or a bad sign? The crooked smile and twinkle in his eyes only made him look maniacal as he responded. It was his natural response to stress. Mick had once told him that it made him look like a madman, and all of those gathered around him now would have agreed or said it was an understatement. Psycho would have put down his ax and ran had he been there.

"I see. So, let's just see if we can