Chapter Text
The airport was a madhouse. Christmas day was looming and the weather wasn't eager to cooperate. Everyone had somewhere else to be for the holiday and no time left to get there. Delays, delays, delays... everything was behind even as more people filed into the doors of the airport. I was among those desperate fools trying to get home for pumpkin pie and political arguments with the crazy side of the family. My baggage dragged behind me as I got into the horrifyingly long line for the ticket station. Zigzagging ropes corralled hundreds of people into neat rows of luggage and stressed would-be passengers. I scanned the wait in front of me and calculated that I was going to be standing there for somewhere between an hour and when time should end. I sighed and settled in.
The going was slow. Every couple of minutes we all got a chance to gather up our belongings and make one step closer even as more piled in behind. Word made it back through the line that they were having issues with the computer system—because of course they were. The family in front of me had two small children who were already getting fussy and agitated. One of them eventually threw herself onto the floor in a fit of boredom, screaming as if trying to test the octave limits of her vocal cords. Her parents did their best to ignore both her and the accusatory glares.
Just as I was about to accept that I had actually died on the way to the airport and this was some level of purgatory that I was assigned to I noticed a new ticket station being opened. The woman behind the counter prepared her station for work and straightened her uniform. To my amazement as she folded her hands in front of her to signal that she was available nobody moved toward the station. I craned my neck to check the front of the line. The man in the front appeared ready, eagerly glancing back and forth like a golden retriever at a tennis tournament, but somehow missing the woman obviously prepared to assist customers.
When I looked back at the woman she waved in my general direction. I glanced around and saw nobody else paying her any attention. She waved again and I dumbly pointed to myself. She nodded, motioning me forward despite all the other people in line ahead of me. I hesitantly ducked under the rope, feeling like I was cheating the other people. None of them seemed to notice or care that I was getting preferential treatment. I dragged my luggage up to the counter expecting someone to shout a protest, but none did.
"Good evening, sir," she greeted me. "What can I do for you today?"
"I just need to pick up my ticket." Now that I was closer I couldn't help but notice that she was a striking looking woman. Taller than what was average, she had a long, well-defined face with sharp features, high cheekbones, narrow nose and jawline. Her skin was pale and unblemished. Her long, flowing hair was as dark as ebony.
"Not a problem, I just need your confirmation number, credit card, and I.D." She leaned forward attentively. The woman was particularly busty and I couldn't keep my eyes from glancing down. I tried to hide my wandering gaze as I searched my pockets for the items she requested.
"Yes, they're real," she answered the unspoken question.
"Sorry." I averted my eyes as an outbreak of heat bloomed on my face. She grinned a strange, overly-toothy grin. Her teeth appeared too sharp and too long. Maybe it was poor dental work. Having just been caught gawking I didn't want to do it a second time. I finally managed to produce the requested items.
She turned to her computer. "Mr. Jack Landers," she deliberately enunciated my name like it was the opening lyrics to a song. As she busied herself with looking up my information she brushed her hair behind an ear. An ear that was strangely misshapen. It was pointy like the character Leonard Nimoy used to play in that sci-fi show. Something behind her and below the counter moved.
She had a tail!
Right above her skirt poked out a long, narrow tail with an arrowhead shaped tip slowly swaying behind her. Maybe this wasn't purgatory at all, but someplace a bit warmer.
"Ooh... Chicago..." she cooed with disappointment. "There's a big snowstorm there. It's delayed indefinitely."
I shook myself back to reality. She's not a demon and this wasn't hell. She's one of those people who goes to comic-book conventions and gets dressed up. What do they call them? Cosplayers? She was just wearing makeup and prosthetics. There's probably a servo hidden under her skirt to make the tail move. The airline industry must have a very lenient dress code and I was going to pretend I didn't notice. Just like I pretend I don't notice a transvestite when I see one.
"So what are my options?" I asked.
"Well, you could wait it out, you could get a refund, or I could get you a ticket going somewhere else."
"Do you have anything close to Chicago?" I suggested. Perhaps I could rent a car and drive the rest of the way.
She turned back to the computer and one-finger typed nonchalantly like she had all the time in the world. Her tail swished behind her to the beat of the keystrokes. She studied the screen for a moment before declaring: "I have a seat going to St. Louis at nine P.M in three days."
I groaned. St. Louis is at least a six hour drive to Chicago in the winter, and three days was Christmas Eve. By the time I made it there I'd be exhausted and spend the entire holiday sleeping.
She leaned in toward me again, apparently inviting my eyes. "You don't really want to go to Chicago, do you?" she spoke with a mischievous grin.
"How's that?"
"Do you want to put up with another year of your mother nagging: why aren't you married yet and where are my grandchildren?" she asked. "Haven't you had enough of your grandfather's appallingly racist jokes? Or your sister complaining about yet another failed relationship? How about Uncle Fred's fun stories about the war that you've heard every year for your entire adult life? Like that one where he took shrapnel to the knee that he tells in excruciating, gory details? Or better yet, the "injury" he got in a Singapore red light district?" She made a mock gag gesture, revealing her cloven tongue.
"How would you—?" I started to question, but she leaned even closer, silencing me. The strain on her blouse was too much for the uppermost button. It suddenly disappeared, flying off at eye-injuring speed and exposing the top of her cleavage.
"I can get you a ticket to anywhere," she insisted, paying no mind to the loss of the button, nor my curiosity about the specific knowledge of my life. "Why would you want to go home? You could go to Paris, Moscow, or even Sydney. You know it's summertime in Australia, right? Anyplace you want to go, just name it."
"Chicago?" I suggested.
She slouched back and pouted. "And here I was hoping you were the adventurous type. I'm offering you a chance to go anywhere you want to and you choose to go where you don't."
"Fine," I muttered, wondering exactly what this woman's deal was. "You want to know where I want to go? I'll show you." If she was going to be ridiculous I could too. I reached into my jacket and pulled out a book. It was a cheap, generic fantasy paperback that I had bought anticipating the long wait times. The cover read: "Sovereign of Xog". I wasn't sure what it was about, buying it purely on the schlock cover art and hoping for some low-challenge brain candy.
"I wanna go here," I demanded. "Can you do that?"
The woman took the paperback from me, glancing at the cover with a tawdry image of an idealistically proportioned, nearly naked man holding a sword aloft in triumph. The glistening, oily-skinned man was being swooned over by an equally perfect and lightly-dressed blond woman. All around were the haphazard arms and legs of defeated creatures. Obviously unfamiliar with the work, the pointy-eared lady turned it over in her hands before bending the book, using her thumb to flip through it. As the pages buzzed before her eyes, a smile played on her lips.
"I know this place!" she declared. "Some of the details are a little off, but most of it is correct. The author must have taken some liberties. This will be a really fun trip."
I rolled my eyes. Sure. Like I was going to believe that she read the entire thing in five seconds. This crazy lady was starting to get on my nerves.
"Look," I said with a sigh, "can I just get my ticket?" I didn't care how long I had to wait for the flight to Chicago. It can't snow forever. Eventually I'll be able to board a plane if I could just get into the terminal.
"Certainly, sir." She turned back to her computer. "Any luggage?"
"Just carry-on."
"Very well." After a moment the printer spit out a silver ticket and she handed it to me "Do enjoy your flight," she said with a smile.
"Thank you," I replied as I turned to find my way through the airport.
Security was relatively pain-free with only mild groping by the TSA agents. Once through I found my gate and readied myself for a long wait with the crowds of other people. To my surprise, no sooner had I opened my trashy fantasy novel when the announcement was made that my flight was boarding. The good fortune pleased me so much that I hardly noticed that the flight attendant who saw me aboard had similar characteristics to the woman behind the ticket counter. I also failed to notice that I was the first one to board and nobody came on after. I was so tired and relieved to be on a plane that I had scarcely settled into my seat before I dozed off.
"Sir?"
Someone poked me on the arm and I woke up with a start to find the flight attendant looming over me.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we've arrived," the pointy-eared woman informed me.
I groaned and blinked away the weariness in my eyes. "I slept for the entire flight?" I asked groggily.
"You sure did." She opened the overhead to pull down my bag. "You looked so peaceful I didn't want to bother you."
I glanced around. "Everyone else is already off?”
"You were the only one on this flight."
"I'm the only one on a flight to Chicago?"
The flight attendant appeared momentarily confused. "Erm... we're not—I mean, yes, this is Chicago. It was a, uh... private flight." For some reason my sleep muddled brain accepted that explanation. I stood up and grabbed my luggage. As I turned to walk up the aisle the flight attendant stopped me.
"Wait, sir!" she called out. "You forgot this on the seat." She handed me the pulp novel. "You might need it."
I stuffed it into my pocket. "Thanks." She led me to the exit, and down the boarding bridge, her spade-tipped tail trailing behind her. When we reached the doorway to the terminal she stood aside. I put my hand on the door to open it but she grabbed me by the arm.
"Sir?"
"Yes?" I turned back to her. To my surprise, she handed me an item wrapped in cloth and tied with a ribbon.
"A traditional gift for all new arrivals," she explained.
"Oh... um, thank you?" What a strange thing to do. I had never heard of airlines giving a gift to people arriving at O'Hare. As she opened the door to the terminal I tugged at the ribbon and unwrapped the present, revealing a bronze hilt attached to a rather large knife in a wooden sheath that looked incredibly old. I know Chicago has a reputation, but this seemed a bit excessive. The flight attendant grinned at my perplexed expression and smoke wafted between her fangs.
"Thank you for flying with us today," she hissed. “Good-bye.” With a cackling laugh she put a clawed hand on my chest and shoved me through the doorway. The door made a heavy, stony thud as she slammed it shut, cutting off her laugh sharply.
I found myself in complete darkness. It was oppressively hot and humid, my feet were in something wet and deeper than my shoes, spilling into my socks. There was a constant melody of dripping of water and the air had a foul stench similar to an overflowing port-a-potty at a baked beans festival. I fumbled in my pocket for my phone and switched it on. The weak illumination of the screen provided barely enough light to make out my surroundings. There were stalagmites (or are they stalactites?) all around me and where the door had just been there was nothing but a bumpy rock surface of a wall.
I had a sneaking suspicion this wasn't O'Hare.
Somewhere nearby there was a roar of some huge, unseen creature.
Definitely not O'Hare.