Water (19 page)
"Oh, would you please? I'd like to end up kidnapped and shackled to a strange bed again."
He rolled his eyes, and I huffed, crossing my arms. "I’ll take my chances with the sea sickness."
After a few more bumps down the road, the trees cleared out and we could see the shore. A port came into view; its only occupant was a small charter boat. I already began to feel the familiar flip-flopping in my stomach as Alex parked.
Insisting a full stomach helps ease the more unpleasant symptoms of seasickness, Alex left me to deal with the luggage, and went off in search of food. I managed to lug everything on board myself. The driver was gracious enough to pull the small charter boat closer to the pier so I didn’t accidently toss our luggage straight into the ocean. That, and he managed not to laugh at me. Quite the gentleman. I chose a bench seat as close to the middle of the boat as I could get, figuring it would be the most stable spot. Impatiently, I squinted into the sun’s glare on the water and searched the shore for Alex. I spotted him making his way to a small fruit stand. He paused to look over the trash piles nearby, a deep frown forming on his face. Then he surveyed the large field behind the stand containing rows of different kinds of trees and vines. Two minutes from the vine to the store once plucked; can’t get any fresher than that. He immediately engaged the man behind the counter in an intense conversation. Using wide sweeping movements, Alex spoke loudly, as if he were giving the man some sort of instructions. The man sometimes looked confused, and sometimes nodded his head in sudden understanding. After ten minutes or so I began to worry if Alex would miss the boat, and I’d be stuck on the dreaded ride by myself. Then I realized I was the only one on the boat, and we were most likely the driver’s only customers of the day. Alex made his way to the pier, and the boat’s engines roared to life.
He emptied the contents of his jacket pockets into my lap. I couldn’t identify much of what I bit into, but it was cool and invigorating.
"Make a new friend?" I spoke through a full mouth.
"What?" Alex asked, looking back to the shore. "Oh, him? Under new management. He's not taking advantage of something we built for the place last year. I had to explain it to him."
"And what was it, exactly, you built?" I slurped up an especially sloppy bite of fruit, attempting to keep it from spilling over onto my chin.
Alex straightened his back. "A compost bin."
The answer caught me off guard. I laughed, accidently inhaling some of the fruit as a result. Alex hit me hard on the back as I half-choked, half-laughed.
"It’s not
that
funny, Kaitlyn. In the US, yard and kitchen waste account for around 30% of landfill refuse. Can you imagine if everyone had their own compost piles?"
Still giggling, I responded, "I can imagine what the world might smell like."
Alex didn’t find it humorous at all. "The man could benefit greatly, creating compost not only to decrease his trash but also as a fertilizer for his fields." He glanced at me sideways. "It doesn’t have to smell bad if you do it right."
I tried my best to put on a straight face while Alex, caught up in the excitement of his own values, explained the process to me. Besides, the conversation was keeping my mind off the rocky boat ride.
After a very long-winded, somewhat Cato-like explanation, Alex grinned sheepishly, "I don’t think he understood my English too well but he’ll figure it out."
I smiled, "So easy – who would have thought?"
"That’s right." He smiled at me, happy I was buying into his environmentally friendly attitude. "Just to give you fair warning, you’ll see us do this thing quite a bit when we are away from the Chakra. In fact, I think Micah has something planned on the way to Spain."
"Oh, can’t wait." My face darkened just at the mention of Micah, but I tried to discard the thought. "We’re almost there. Want to take the time convince the boat driver to replace his gas-guzzling engines with environmentally-friendly sails before we dock?"
"I’d love to," Alex said, ignoring my sarcastic tone. "But he doesn’t speak any English, I've tried talking to him before."
"Of course you have."
"Come on; let’s get our suitcases." Alex looked at them for a moment before looking back at me. "You did a fine job of organizing them." Alex criticized me as he went to collect the bags, spread all over the deck of the boat.
"Hey!" I defended myself, "They were heavy. What did you pack anyway?"
"Just enough to be prepared, Katie. Always be prepared."
"Ok, Boy Scout. Next time I’ll get the fruit and you handle the bags."
Bodyguards
The boat pulled into the pier on Sumatra. I had made it the whole way without incident. A taxi was waiting for us. Alex handed the driver a piece of paper. The driver nodded and had us at a small airport before I knew it. I looked around to see if I could spot Micah or Shawn. It would have been easy in the sea of darker skinned people. Alex stuck close to me, his arm around my shoulders most of the time. It was odd behavior for him.
"What is wrong?" I asked, shrugging off the burdensome weight of his arm.
He looked around wildly for a second, scrutinizing everyone close to us in fear and suspicion. Barely moving his lips, he whispered, "Act natural. We are supposed to be siblings."
I crossed my arms and teased, "You are way too goofy looking to be my brother."
Since no one apparently cared, or even noticed us, he let out the breath he had been holding far too long. "I’m not too good at this incognito thing. Freaks me out." He pulled out a passport from his backpack. "Here."
I opened it. "Laura Henson?"
"Couldn't have you traveling under your real name, in case someone is still looking for you."
I smirked at the thought.
If only my fica had access to the internet, and fingers.
Alex pulled out his passport and flipped it open. "Alexander Henson. But you can call me Alex."
I stuck out my hand, "Nice to meet you, bro."
"You too, sis." He shook my hand.
We continued walking toward the boarding gate. "We are flying from here to Jakarta, Jakarta to France, and France to Spain."
"How long is our layover in France?" I asked.
Alex pulled out a folder full of paperwork and flipped through it. "Four hours, why?"
"Because I might have a chance to practice my high school French."
Several hours later, after the wheels touched down in France, I was making a beeline for the women’s restroom at the Charles de Gaulle Airport. My stomach was finally calling it quits and I had to hurry if I was going to spare myself the embarrassing effects of motion sickness. I pushed people out of the way, ignoring what I was sure were curse words in several different languages. Alex tried to keep up but, hindered by our carry-on luggage, was soon lost in the crowd.
By the time I was finished, the restroom had emptied of women; likely not wanting to be anywhere near what was happening in my stall. I rinsed my mouth and looked at myself in the mirror with a critical eye. My hair was a frizzy mess and my face was pale. I fixed myself as best I could and walked out of the restroom. Alex was nowhere in sight.
Oh great
.
Now what
?
I had no idea when the next flight was, I only knew we were going to Spain. I walked to a departure listing and found ten different flights leaving for Spain that day, all at different times and spread out over several airlines. The first one was boarding now. All I had on me was my passport and 20 euros. Could I just walk up to a random kiosk, show them my passport and ask what flight I was supposed to be on? I could see myself waving the Euros at the attendant
, there is a nice tip in it for you.
That might draw some unwanted attention. I silently cursed Alex for not preparing me better for this situation.
"
Excusez-moi
." A man in uniform tapped me on the shoulder. Too late for the unwanted attention.
"
Oui
?" Goody, a wonderful time to practice my French.
He tried hard to prevent a look of disdain from crossing his face, but I caught it. He took a deep breath. "Can I help you?"
Dismayed at how he pegged me as an English speaker after just one word I gave up on the French. "Um, no, no. I am okay. Just waiting for my Alex, I mean my brother."
Screwed that one up
. Why did he single me out, anyway? There were plenty of people just standing around.
He looked me over. "I must ask you accompany me this way, Mademoiselle."
"What, why?"
He grabbed me, keeping a firm grip on my upper arm, and began pulling me along.
I tugged back. "I didn’t do anything!" My voice got louder and people around us stopped what they were doing to look. The Frenchman let go briefly and took a more aggressive stance. One of his hands automatically went to his belt over what looked like a stun gun. The other hand pulled out a walkie-talkie and he began speaking into it urgently.
With how quickly things escalated, I was stunned into stupidity. I should have spent more time learning to think on my feet, instead of using whips. I began to look around wildly for an out. Perhaps I could point out a potential terrorist threat; those things weren’t taken lightly.
As it was, we just happened to be surrounded by blue-eyed, blond-haired tourists, a herd of school-aged children, and a group of uniformed British soldiers. I openly gawked at a woman who had to be too pregnant to fly, clutching her toddler close, and silently damned her for contributing to my bad luck. Just as I was considering turning tail and running, a familiar face appeared. The Frenchman was forced to release my arm in order to intercept Micah’s enthusiastic shake. Micah immediately started a conversation, speaking to him in a polite but commanding tone. To my untrained ear, it sounded like perfect French. I felt someone come up behind me and take my arm.
Before I could glance over my shoulder Shawn whispered in my ear, "Take a few small steps back with me."
Quickly, I looked at the security guard. He could be my out. If I could just go with him, I could rid myself of these deranged people and figure out my powers on my own. Maybe live somewhere secluded until I had them under control.
But Micah was a smooth talker. He actually had the Frenchman smiling. No doubt his hypnotic eyes were working their magic as well. Good to know I wasn’t the only one susceptible. My opportunity was quickly fading. If I tried anything, I would be the crazy babbling woman.
Shawn was still pulling insistently on my arm, and I went with him. We continued our slow walk backward until immersed amongst the onlookers; becoming one of them. Eventually the crowd dispersed as they realized nothing even remotely interesting was coming. As Micah finished up his conversation, the Frenchman sent one more glance my way. Upon seeing me – he looked almost shocked at remembering why he was there in the first place. He had already forgotten. He returned his walkie-talkie to its holster, shook Micah's hand, and pat him on the shoulder. I was surprised they didn't exchange phone numbers; maybe set up a future golf date.
Finally, the Frenchman turned and walked away. Micah sauntered toward us, after pausing briefly to help the pregnant woman retrieve the cup her toddler had thrown. I rolled my eyes.
He took my other arm and escorted me to a nearby café. We sat at a small round table and Micah ordered sandwiches for the three of us. As I sat next to the two people I despised most in the world at that moment, I couldn’t help but feel slightly content. The pair put out an aura of confidence and strength, and if I wanted to get the crux of it – this was the devil I knew. With my own personal bodyguards around nothing could hurt me; except of course for the bodyguards themselves.
Water Wars
Lunch in the airport was uneventful, and not a word was spoken amongst the three of us until Alex arrived; sweaty and panic-stricken. "Oh, you found her – thank God."
"God had nothing to do with it." Micah pulled out a small device from his pocket and threw it at Alex. Then he bent down, took off my shoe, and showed him a miniscule chip tucked into the sole.
"You didn’t trust me?" Alex asked Micah with a forlorn face.
Micah apparently didn’t trust either one of us.
"Oh, please," Shawn interjected, speaking with his mouth full of bread, "If the Chakra
couldn’t handle her, what makes you think you can?"
Alex and I simultaneously turned to glare at Shawn, then broke out in protests, struggling to be heard over each other. Shawn interjected his defense, raising his own voice.
Finally, a two fingered, shrill whistle cut us all off. Satisfied he had our full attention, Micah cleared his throat and said, "Alex, won’t you sit down?"
Alex did as he was told.
"We can’t attract any more attention than we already have." Micah continued, "Let’s just finish eating. Our meeting is in an hour and our flight takes off soon after that. We can resolve any issues we have with each other once we are in private."
