"Sir, I'm sorry, but there's no flights going in to or leaving Honolulu. There was an earthquake this morning and--"
"I'm well aware there was an earthquake," I said, barely suppressing the rage I felt towards the woman behind the counter. Towards the world. "Where's the nearest I can land?"
She did a couple quick taps, pursing her too-small lips as her eyes scanned her ancient screen.
"Everything's been halted due to a tsunami wa--"
My open hand hit the counter with enough force that the woman flew back on her rolling chair.
"Are you telling me I can't fly West out of California?"
"You can," she said nervously. "You just can't land anywhere near the islands."
It was the last thing that I had wanted to hear. I turned and walked away.
"Thank you for stopping by United Airlines!" she called feebly behind me.
The moment I stepped outside the terminal I went hunched back, hands on knees, trying to keep the overwhelming agony at bay. My temples pounded. I seemed to be aware of every single rib in my body moving as I breathed.
"What's the plan Laur?" I whispered.
"It's the end of the world as we know it! Bwha-ha-ha!"
The voice sounded like Monterey Jack from The Rescue Rangers. It had been one of my favorite cartoons when I was younger. I stood up, my head swiveling to locate the person that belonged with the voice. It didn't take long.
The guy was in his late fifties with a serious pot-belly. He wore a brown aviator cap on his head, the flaps smacking against the sides of his face every time he walked. He was grinning ear to ear, his brown eyes dancing excitedly as he walked past me. I watched as he headed towards a small little two-person propeller plane.
Common sense told me not to do it.
I did it anyway.
"Excuse me!" I called out. My sneakers smacked into the pavement as I ran to catch up with the man. It didn't take long. He had a bounce in his step, but my long legs were no match for his short ones. The guy's cap flapped hard as he turned to look at me.
"What can I do you for, son?" he asked. "I'm kinda in a hurry. I don't want to miss the apocalypse."
For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. Finally, my voice floated back into my throat.
"Is that your plane?" I asked. He nodded, his chest puffing out in pride.
"That she is! A beaut, ain't she?"
I wasn't sure if beaut was the right term. It had some rust and it was showing its age. But if it still flew...
"How much would it cost for you to take me as close to Sand Island as we can get?" I asked.
You would have thought I had asked him if he'd like a million dollars for Christmas. He clapped his hands and then grasped my shoulders. He shook me a couple times even though I was about half a foot taller than him.
"You're carved from the same stone as I am, kid! That's where I'm going. I know we're not supposed to know when the second coming is, but I tell you I have a feeling on this one."
"A feeling?"
"Yeah. I mean, who wants to twiddle there thumbs and wait for it to get here? I don't wanna be on a freeway when it happens. I wanna be in paradise."
He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a round tin. I recognized the chewing tobacco right away. He stuck a piece in the side of his mouth, chewed vigorously, and nodded towards the plane.
"I'm Crazy Steve. What's your name co-pilot?"
If I hadn't been so stressed out, panicked, and distraught, I would have compared the whole thing to a scene from a National Lampoon movie. As it was, I decided I didn't have time to waste contemplating the fact I was going to get on a plane with a guy named Crazy Steve.
"Nick," I said.
"Ha, I knew it!" he bellowed. He began walking again and I followed him at a quick clip to the plane.
"We don't have any time to lose," he said. "I was just taking a quick leak before heading out. It's a bitch when you gotta go in the middle of the sky."
"I bet," I said.
The interior of the plane was small. He wasn't kidding when he had called me co-pilot. I had never had such a view before. Steve threw himself into the worn leather pilot's seat and fiddled with a million different flips and switches.
"Buckle up," he said. "It's gonna be a bumpy ride."
"You must land your plane in Molokai. I repeat, you must land your plane in Molokai. Air travel is restricted within Honolulu."
Steve stuck his tongue out at the cockpit's radio. "You're a bunch of old fuddy-duddies. When I was with the FAA--"
The guy on the other end sighed. "Unless you want to be shot down, you'll shut up and listen."
Steve pressed his thumb to his nose and wiggled his fingers, but he didn't say anything else. He flipped a switch and studied the map in front of him.
"Landing in Molokai was my plan," he said. I didn't believe him, but he cleared his throat and continued on. "I have a friend of a friend there that can lend me a boat."
"Really?"
He must have heard the hope in my voice cause he let out another loud bark. "Yeah, but I'm a shitty floater. Is that what you call them? Or is it boater?"
Crap. "I know my way around a boat," I said. My eyes flickered back out at the blue sky and the land that was coming closer and closer.
"No shit? Hunh. It must be both our lucky days," he said.
I reached up to the collar of my shirt, sliding my hand down under the cotton. My fingers grabbed the cross necklace Brian had given me right after Lauren had died. I rubbed it, warming the metal with my touch. I had never worn it before today.
I felt like I needed all the luck I could get. And a little help from above.
"Just get me down there, and I'll take it from there," I said, sounding more confident then I felt. Steve's hands tightened on the controls. I closed my eyes and kept rubbing the cross.
I feared what I was going to find.
