Authors: Barrett
Tags: #Gay & Lesbian, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #Genre Fiction, #Lesbian, #Lesbian Romance, #Literature & Fiction
Balefire (2 page)
The plane pitched forward.
The speaker crackled a few times. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. There’s a large storm moving inland, and we are going to change altitude to try to get above it. I don’t expect this to last more than another ten minutes or so, but please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”
“Well, I guess that’s the answer to my weather question,” Kirin said as the plane rocked to the left, and the flight attendants hustled through picking up beverage glasses. She passed the empty can over and noticed Silke’s pale face. “Are you okay?”
“I wished I hadn’t left my Dramamine in my suitcase. I normally don’t have trouble but I probably would’ve taken one if I’d known about the storm.”
Kirin stared in amazement out the small window as the next ten min
utes blurred by. The gigantic aluminum tube containing almost two hundred people bounced around like a toy boat in a bathtub with a hyperactive five year old.
No one talked.
Up and down like a bobble-head doll, Kirin tried to look around but could only see the bulkhead wall, the people across the aisle, and her seatmate who clutched the armrests with fisted white knuckles. The rain deluged the window like a fire hose. It grew dark, very dark. The plane seemed to be descending but without landmarks.
When someone behind them retched, Kirin took a deep breath. Once that started, others were sure to follow. Not normally prone to nausea and motion sickness, she now wished she hadn’t consumed the can of Coke that sloshed around in her stomach.
“I don’t feel well,” Silke whispered. “Could you find one of those bags for me?”
Kirin rifled through the magazine rack in front of her until she found one stuck in the pages of the airline magazine. She almost handed it to Silke, then opened it first. She didn’t know what else to do.
Silke’s fair complexion had faded to a grayish green, and she was per
spiring. The plane dropped again. Kirin suspected that everyone felt the same lurching sensation that left her stomach wedged beneath her ribs.
Silke grabbed her hand. A sudden and unexpected comfort. A reassur
ing connection.
Kirin looked out the window and saw shapes zooming past them, iden
tifiable shapes—trees or buildings. Suddenly, the plane nosed upward again.
The captain tried to allay the palpable anxiety. “Ladies and gentlemen, we were unable to land on our first pass because of poor visibility. We’ll circle around and try a second time. If that doesn’t work we’ll need to fly to Cancun to refuel.”
Silke moaned, kept her eyes closed, and tightened her grip on Kirin’s hand.
It took several minutes to circle around but this time, as they descend
ed, Kirin could actually see a small wooden building on the left side. Unfortunately, they were still too high and the captain pulled up through the blowing rain as the plane shuddered.
Kirin wasn’t the religious type, but she found herself squeezing a stranger’s hand and saying a silent prayer for everyone on the plane.
Might as well.
As they descended a third time, the plane vibrated wildly with the turbulence. She wanted to close her eyes but couldn’t resist peering through one eye as the plane leveled off, and she felt the wheels strike the ground hard. They weren’t out of danger yet.
Now
the plane needs to stop
.
The seconds ticked by, and she felt the plane losing momentum. Silke softened her grip and then re-gripped harder as the plane pitched several more times. Finally, the plane evened up and slowed. The passengers let out a cheer and applause that soared above the sound of the pelting rain.
Chapter Three
AS THE PASSENGERS cheered, Silke slowly opened her eyes. To
keep the nausea at bay, she swallowed several times. A trickle of perspi
ration spiraled delicately down her neck and disappeared between her breasts. She gulped a couple of deep breaths as her heart continued to pound. Embarrassed, she realized how tightly she was holding on to Kirin’s hand.
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to injure you with my Vulcan death grip.”
Silke released Kirin’s hand and used her sleeve to wipe her fore
head. “I don’t usually react that way to turbulence, but this time it scared me.”
“I don’t blame you a bit. I don’t usually pray but I made an excep
tion for this landing.” Kirin shook her fingers out. “You do have a strong grip.”
Camaraderie enveloped the passengers as the plane taxied up to the ramshackle buildings known as the Phillip Goldson International Airport, right outside Belize City.
“Would you mind telling me where we are?” Silke asked.
Kirin watched out the window. “It’s still raining hard—”
Silke smiled. “I can hear that.”
“Oh, sorry. And there is a handful ground crew beginning to unload luggage. Two of them are pushing some rolling stairs toward the front door. Wow, there are even airline employees holding umbrellas for the passengers.”
A few minutes later, Silke walked out of the plane into the humid, fra
grant air of the jungle. This was why she had made this trip to Belize for eight years. This was her defining moment. Out of the States and into the jungle was an immediate body shift. Less the arrival of the turbulent plane, her body would soon experience a kind of release only Belize could provide.
Silke hung back to avoid being trampled but lost sight of Kirin. An elderly woman bumped into her while trying to get ahead in the line and didn’t bother to apologize. Routine. It always seemed curious to her that people on vacation were in such a hurry to relax.
The pace of life slowed dramatically in the smaller countries, and as soon as they arrived, tourists thought everything would go at their nor
mal neu
rotic pace. Three lines were queued to go through customs. She joined the long wait as the luggage lumbered along the conveyor belt to eager
hands. Luggage in hand they all moved like cattle toward the two uni
formed men who waited to review the declaration sheets and check luggage, if necessary.
By the time Silke located her red suitcase by the bright chartreuse scarf tied to it and cleared customs, most of the passengers were in the main area of the terminal—a long narrow room with ticket counters on one side and a few gift shops on the other. As she entered, the excited buzzing of the travelers and their nebulous nuances became louder and angrier. The air crackled with uncertain tension.
An angry mob crowded around the ticket counter. Silke edged closer to try to hear. Only two local airlines provided transportation to other parts of the country and to the offshore islands and it wasn’t good news.
“There are no more flights today because all of the planes are
stranded in San Pedro,” a local Belizean employee explained. “The
storm flooded the San Pedro airport. No, there are no boats because of
the high seas.”
Well, well
.
Stranded?
She tapped her cane and waited.
Just then a uniformed man walked past Silke, and she touched his arm. “Excuse me. I just arrived and I don’t know what’s happening but it seems like there’s no transportation from the airport.”
The man stopped. “There is a hurricane off shore that shifted and is moving north from Guatemala and the outer bands of wind and rain have already hit the islands. Most people are taking cabs into Belize City or trying to find hotels farther inland.” He leaned closer. “The planes will probably go out sometime tomorrow. So, if you don’t need fancy, there’s a small hotel near the airport called the International. A cab driver will know where it is.”
Silke smiled at the man. “Thank you very much. I appreciate your sug
gestion.”
She wrestled her suitcase around and tried to move back through the pressing crowd to get to the front of the airport. The crush of hot, sweaty bodies around her made her claustrophobic, short of breath, and queasy.
She managed to see over their heads but the people beside her were shov
ing as they tried to reach the ticket counter.
Somewhere ahead she heard the familiar sound of Kirin’s terse and agitated voice. As she got closer, she could hear her words.
“Esther, I tried that, the hotel isn’t answering the phone. I don’t know. You sent me to this godforsaken place and now I can’t get out of the damn airport. No, I didn’t try that . . . Look, I’m not familiar with the area, and I have no idea where Belize City is from the airport. See what you can do and call me back.” She hung up. “Dammit to hell.”
Silke raised her cane slightly. “Kirin, over here.” She pushed her way closer. “This is awful. Are you waiting for someone, or could you help me get outside?”
A man with a luggage wagon smacked into Silke and shot her like a flailing rocket right into Kirin’s arms.
“Hey, watch it, fella. Come on. Let’s go outside,” Kirin yelled over the din and maneuvered between pushing passengers and over-loaded luggage carriers. “This must be what spawning salmon feel like.”
“I think you’re right.” Silke followed close behind, focusing on the royal blue shirt in front of her. Once outside, she sagged against a support beam. The thick, humid air blanketed her.
“I’ll take this humidity over that nonsense in there,” Kirin said and chuckled.
“Thank you. I’m not sure I could’ve gotten out of there by myself. The storm has certainly created a lot of cranky, panicky people.” Silke felt the water seeping into her shoes. “Wonderful.”
Kirin checked her cell phone one more time then shoved it in her pock
et. “This totally sucks. My hotel isn’t answering their phone and my editor thinks the storm may have caused a power outage. She said the eye of the storm is still pretty far southeast and it could head inland or continue north. Crap. What are you going to do?”
Silke looked up at Kirin. Although Kirin was only a couple of inches taller, she puffed up considerably when she got agitated. It was mildly
amusing how well it worked. Probably scary if this was her normal behav
ior. Still, when her dark eyes flashed, they accentuated her dark hair and full lips.
“A man inside suggested a small hotel near the airport because he thought the planes would resume flights tomorrow. I planned to get a cab and head over. Would you like to go with me?”
Kirin looked around. “May as well. I certainly don’t want to stay here, and I have no idea where I am, so if you don’t mind . . .”
“Since I’m going to a strange place, I’d actually feel more comfortable
if I had someone with me. It’s sometimes really hard to navigate new sur
roundings when I’m tired.”
Kirin chuckled. “You know, I feel exactly the same way and my vision isn’t impaired. So maybe between the two of us we could make this work out smoothly. I’ll try to get a cab.”
THE OLDER MODEL Toyota van had seen better days, but the young driver explained that it had been raining most of the day and many of the roads were flooded. He told them a story of how he tried to take an older couple into Belize City earlier, and that most of those streets were flooded as well.
Through the rain-streaked cab windows, the International Hotel
looked like a hospital building. It was constructed of concrete block
and
painted yellow—sturdy, but not especially festive. They entered the
wide lobby.
Kirin looked around. “Well, this is enchanting.”
“It’s much larger than I thought, but so dark,” Silke said.
“The minimal ceiling fluorescents are pretty dim and widely spaced.
Not much furniture.” Kirin pointed to the right side. “There are some ta
bles and chairs over there, maybe a cafeteria or coffee shop. There are some
underwhelming oriental watercolors behind the desk and fancy dolls inter
spersed with the faux-foliage.”
They moved closer to the desk behind two couples.
“The staff looks like they are all one family and are quite friendly.”
“Would you please fill out the registration?” Silke asked.
Kirin accepted the key after signing the form. “Good news. It’s only fifty dollars and includes a light breakfast.” She held up two coupons.
A young man took both suitcases and led them to the second floor room where he turned on the lights and the air conditioner. Kirin tipped him.
“Well, this is kind of interesting,” she said, dropping her leather mes
senger bag on a chair. “Concrete block walls, cement and tile floor, industrial-strength furniture, but everything is spotlessly clean.”
Silke flopped onto one of the queen-size beds. “As tired as I am right now, it should be just fine. It is awfully quiet though.”
Kirin bounced a bit on the other bed, eliciting an odd squeak. “Maybe that’s because of the concrete walls.”
A gust of wind lashed sheets of rain against the tall windows.
Kirin got up, walked to the window, and looked out. “I can’t be sure, but it seems like the storm is picking up. Too bad there’s no TV to check the weather. I didn’t see one in the lobby either. Not surprising for the price.” She returned to the bed and stretched out. “I did notice a sign in the hallway about a youth hostel, but the rest of the sign was Chinese. Maybe the youth hostelers aren’t allowed TV. ”
“Maybe the locals will think we’re Christian missionaries come to con
vert the godless hordes.” Silke chuckled, which grew into full-throated laughter.
Kirin joined her in laughing as she thought about the absurdity, espe
cially when the demographics she’d studied suggested the country was about fifty percent Catholic and twenty-seven percent Protestant. There was no mention of the godless hordes. She looked at Silke, who was still giggling, and laughed again. Silke could hardly see, and yet her smile and the sound of her laughter brightened up the room. They really were quite a pair—truly a case of the blind leading the blind.
Silke sat up. “What time did he say the buffet started?”
“Five o’clock,” Kirin said, looking at her watch. “About ten minutes ago. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.” She sat up and looked at Kirin with a grim expression. “I have a confession to make. I lied about the three course meal and the champagne on the plane.”
They erupted again with exhaustion-induced laughter, clapping, and high-five-ing.
“And the jugglers?” Kirin asked.
“Total fabrication.”
Kirin stood up first. “Then we better go eat.”
As advertised, the ten-dollar buffet offered a dozen different dishes—mostly Asian with one pan of what looked like fettuccine. It met their standards: hot and tasty.
Kirin chose the table near the wall where they could observe a long table filled with teenagers. They surmised that the group, wearing T-shirts that read
Youth for Jesus
were the young missionaries.
For three Belizean dollars, they each had a beer. Kirin bought a second round since Silke had insisted on paying for dinner.
Once they returned to the room, they now dubbed the bunker, Silke kicked off her shoes. “I’d like to take a shower before bed. Do you need to use the bathroom first?”
Kirin liked her for her manners. She went to the bathroom doorway. “I probably should recycle that beer just in case you become captivated by that extra-large drive-in shower.”
