Catacombs by J. R. Rain & Matthew S. Cox

Author:J. R. Rain & Matthew S. Cox [Rain, J. R. & Cox, Matthew S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Magical Mystery Thriller
Publisher: Rain Press
Published: 2020-05-20T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The Friendly Skies

Mr. Moody and I end up in a window seat a little behind the left wing.

The guy next to me looks like a used car salesman who walked off the set of Miami Vice. A younger black guy in an Emirates soccer shirt and jeans has the aisle seat. He puts on headphones and tunes out the world. Miami Vice starts hitting on me before the plane even detaches from the boarding ramp.

I try to ignore him, but as soon as he attempts to convince me he’s a talent scout who could ‘most certainly’ get me into movies if I stopped by his office in the city for a quick photo shoot, I hit him with Sleep. We both win. I don’t have to hear him, and he gets to enjoy a seemingly instant flight.

People continue taking their seats, packing carry-on bags overhead, and so on. I crack open the paperback I nabbed at random from an airport bookstore. It’s a fairly standard spy type story similar to the Jason Bourne movies. The agency’s most dangerous, badass operative gets wrongfully disavowed and put on a kill list and he has to survive bad guys plus good guys all coming after him, clear his name, and stop a plot to infect all world leaders with mind control nanobots.

Meh. It’s better than staring at a folded tray table for fourteen hours or however long I’m going to be stuck in this plane. Not only is the seat a little cramped, it’s the longest continuous stretch of time I’ve worn shoes (and outside clothes) in a while. I’ve always thought it kinda weird and rude for a person to take their shoes off on an airplane, but apparently, the airline allows slippers. Wish I could hit myself with the sleep spell.

Moody needs the ‘litterbox’ after a few hours, so I make my way to the bathroom as he’s not great at manipulating doorknobs on his own. Might as well use it, too, while I’m in here.

Soon after we’re back in our seats, the in-flight meal comes out. I think it’s supposed to be chicken scampi, or something along those lines. Moody gets about half my portion of chicken. Miami Vice is still sleeping, so he doesn’t notice the small bits vanishing off the tray, apparently into nowhere. Headphone guy remains absorbed in whatever he’s listening to as well as his meal and doesn’t notice the food disappearing next to him.

After my meal, and nine chapters into my book, a guy a few rows in front of me screams.

I look up. Nothing appears wrong.

“Holy shit!” shouts a woman. “It’s bigger than the airplane!”

Before Mr. Moody can even think ‘that’s what she said,’ most of the plane erupts in screaming, gasping, or non-English yelling.

“Oh, dear,” says Mr. Moody. “He could be a problem.”

I gaze out the window—and spot a dragon cruising the sky in the distance.

“Whoa…” I swallow.

The dragon appears to be more or less hanging in place above the clouds, likely due to moving at a much slower speed than us.

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