Matthew winked at me solemnly, picked up his bag of trash and his keys and flicked off the light that illuminated the airline sign.
I shouldered my pack and ran for the nearest bank machine. I had a withdrawal to make.
Sitting on a bus rocking through the Highland darkness later that night, I contemplated my situation. I couldn’t see any other word for it.
I’d become a fugitive.
Of course, technically the money was mine, dogmatic airline rules aside. I hadn’t taken the flight yet, and I’d agreed to re-book. Just when I’d be able do so, though …
Well, as soon as humanly possible. And in order for that to happen, I had to have enough cash, right?
I looked down at the statement I’d printed off from the bank machine. I now had four hundred pounds on my credit card.
Four hundred pounds.
Even with my pathetic math skills, I was pretty sure that translated to nearly seven hundred American dollars. A person might live a long time in the wilds of the Scottish Highlands on that kind of money.
So, yeah. I decided that for the present, I could live with being a fugitive, if it meant I could stay a little longer. Keep trying to find my Fraser.
Maybe I was not so different from Susan after all.
Fickle Fortune…
10:30 pm, March 16
Inverness Airport, Scotland
Sudden, happy change of plans. Fortune has smiled on me! My circumstances have altered a bit, and the quest to find my Fraser carries on. Will report in at my next stop. Wish me luck!
- ES
Comments: 61
SophiaSheridan, Chicago, USA:
Well, thank god you’re all right. We’ve been worried sick since hearing about the robbery. Why won’t you call? Surely you will have to come home now. If you won’t call, perhaps you’ll send me an email?
Gerald Abernathy, Ft. William, Scotland:
Not sure you’ll remember me, Emma, but we met a few nights ago at the Clava Cairns. I promised you I would give you more information if I could on the subject we both care about. Just wanted to tell you that I found the circle, but no——ah——inhabitant. I caught a terrible cold that night and I’m actually typing this from the lounge at the hospital here in Fort William. If you do ever make it down to this neck of the woods, look me up. I’ll be happy to give you the information about the site. Maybe you’ll have better luck. My email is GAbernathy@ge*rgiabell.com
HiHoKitty, Sapporo, Japan:
Very relieved to hear you are well, Emma-san. Book club send luck!
(Read 58 more comments here…)
I woke in the gray dawn, swimming up to consciousness through the shreds of a terrible nightmare. American agents had forced me onto a plane back to the US at gunpoint. We’d gotten somewhere deep over the Atlantic Ocean before I discovered that there was no one flying the plane. I had to take the controls. The plane dipped and weaved, and finally flew the entire distance about ten feet above the waves. A whale spouted in the water beneath us, we were so close. Sharks swam below us, keeping pace with the plane. One of them had a laser beam strapped to his head, but even that didn’t give me pause. Land in sight, I brought the plane down safely to the rousing applause of the entire crew of the Pequod from MOBY DICK.
I sat up in bed, my body bathed in sweat, adrenaline pumping. The cockpit dissolved around me into the shape of a drab little room, about the size of my closet at home.
I wasn’t in an airplane with Captain Ahab. I wasn’t in America.
I was in the town of Fort William, Scotland, population unknown. I had a hundred pounds of Scottish sterling safe in an inner pocket of my backpack. I had nearly three hundred and fifty more transferred from my visa card to my current account.
And I had a journey to complete.
The previous night, after a quick stop at the cash point, I’d spied an Internet-access-for-a-pound computer in the airport, so I had sat down to scope out accommodation. I thought she might offer me some compensation, but Mrs. Henderson had vanished with little more than an apologetic smile at the police station, so I was disinclined to ever darken her doorway again. Still, nothing was going to bring me down. And just moments after I had posted the cheery blog entry, up popped the comment from Gerald.
With my sudden change of fortune, at least it was a place to start. I shouldered my pack and looked for the signs pointing to the bus stop.
Outside the airport, I ran across the parking lot and hopped on a bus that was idling but still had its door open. The driver informed me that he was heading north, but that a southbound bus should be arriving shortly. “It’s headin’ for Glasgae, mind,” he said, “but it’ll stop in Fort William for ye. Jes’ make mention to the driver, aye?”