Watchers of the Night Page 19
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The ride to the airport was mostly spent in silence. They stopped off at Paul’s home so that he could pack a suitcase. There, Paul said a tearless farewell to his parents. His mother had looked worried, like she might try to talk him out of it at the last minute, but instead she just turned away, her eyes brimming with tears, and quickly left the foyer where they’d been saying their goodbyes. His father shook his hand, slipped two one-hundred dollar bills into his palm, and told him to please call as soon as he arrived so his mother didn’t worry. An awkward nod from Paul was the last communication they shared.
At first Dittrich tried to make small talk, but Paul’s one- and two-word replies left the conversation flat and soon the only sound in the vehicle was the radio.
Arriving at Louisville International Airport, Dittrich and Paul returned the rental car and made their way toward their terminal. Paul had no idea which one they were leaving from, but trusted that Dittrich did, so he kept his head down and his mouth shut. He noticed in the periphery of his vision that Dittrich glanced in his direction a few times, as if on the verge of saying something, but since Dittrich remained silent Paul didn’t bother to acknowledge that he’d noticed.
It wasn’t until they got to their gate that Paul finally looked up and took measure of their surroundings. They were at the end of the terminal. The airport in Louisville was almost never crowded, but today it was even less so. They were either extremely early or their flight hadn’t sold many seats. Paul could see people a few gates down, but there was literally no one waiting at their terminal, so he was surprised to see a uniformed airport attendant come trotting down the corridor to meet them.
“Mr. Dittrich,” the attendant said, shaking Dittrich’s hand while giving Paul a quick smile and nod. “Right this way, please.”
The attendant unlocked the door to their jet way and led them down a set of steps onto the tarmac, where Paul finally lost the ability to hold his silence.
“We’re riding in a helicopter?!” Paul exclaimed.
The attendant looked pleased. Dittrich smiled and said, “I’d thought about telling you ahead of time, but I knew surprising you would be more fun. This is a Sikorsky S-92, one of the best and fastest birds ever made. You will not find a more comfortable or convenient way to travel.”
It looked more like a luxury airliner than a helicopter, easily as big as Marine One. It was painted jet black, and had no markings other than a single gray eye surrounded by a circle on the tail fin. Dittrich walked confidently up the steps, turning at the doorway to make sure Paul was following behind him.
“Your life has just begun, Paul,” he said. “I assure you, yours will be a lifetime that others can only… dream of.” Smiling at his own joke, Dittrich turned and entered the craft.
Paul stood on the tarmac a moment longer, wondering if he had completely lost touch with reality. Who were these people?
“Enjoy your flight, sir,” the attendant encouraged, beckoning for Paul to climb aboard.
The interior was as spacious and as luxurious as a first class cabin on a commercial flight. Probably even more so, Paul thought, since he’d never actually flown first class. There were three rows of beige leather upholstered seats and a small table inset between each one with a telephone mounted on it. Two televisions were mounted on the wall that separated the cockpit from the passenger cabin. Below those televisions was a small bar and kitchen.
Paul chose a seat in the back row and buckled his seat belt. Dittrich settled into the seat next to him, one of the small tables separating them. Paul had his hand resting on the table and Dittrich, in a fatherly manner, reached over and patted it. “Paul, I know you have a lot on your mind and I know you have some thinking to do, but I’d like to say a few things.
“First of all, let’s acknowledge that I know what you can do, and that I can do the same thing. There aren’t many like us, and I hope that you’ll take my word when I tell you how glad I am that you are making this journey. The more of us there are, the greater our chances for understanding our ability. There is strength in numbers.
“The last thing I want to say is that I hope you know that you can come to me any time if you have questions or problems. As a member of the Astralis staff and someone who shares your ability, I feel confident that I can help you. I’m an employee of Astralis and it is my home, but I started there as a patient just like you. I’ve been where you are, so please—I hope you’ll consider me a friend and ally.”
Paul waited for more, but apparently that was all Dittrich had to say.
Dittrich held Paul’s gaze a little longer, nodded once, and then settled back into his seat and closed his eyes. Paul heard the hum of the motor and felt the rotors engage.
A friend and ally? What an odd way to phrase that. But maybe it was just Dittrich’s way. Maybe he was as much of a social misfit at his core as Paul was.
Friends. Did he have any left? Back at school in the teacher’s lounge, Stephanie had tried not to show the pain in her eyes as she listened to him announce that he was leaving. She put on a brave face, not voicing the betrayal that she obviously felt. She’d hugged him, smiled, and told him to keep safe. Steven, very uncharacteristically, also gave Paul a tight hug and said quietly, “Something ain’t right here. You need anything, bro, you call.” It was all Paul could do not to agree, but he didn’t want Steven or anyone else to worry. He wanted to tell them, but he couldn’t. Not without putting them in harm’s way. If anything ever happened to his friends because of him, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He looked out the window, staring down as the ground raced past, and lost himself in the sound of the helicopter’s motor as it propelled him toward his future.