Author: Verity Granger
Date: 04-01-10 06:28
The flight to Miami had been uneventful, maybe even a little dull, Verity reflected. She'd been quite glad that Gavin had chosen to sit beside her for the first leg of their journey. He had proven to be an engaging and witty companion, even if he did have a somewhat untrustworthy gleam in his eye. It was a pity that all the most interesting gentlemen were also dangerous gentlemen, she thought, although perhaps that was what made them interesting.
Having stopped to re-fuel, they had then continued their journey on towards Caracas. "I've never been to Venezuela before," she commented, looking out of the small window. Not that she could see much through the clouds. They seemed particularly grey and dense at the moment.
With his eyes closed and head resting on the back of his seat, Zack listened to the low drone of the plane's engines and the quiet conversation of the others. Maybe if he slept most of the way to Caracas, he could forget the threat of the darkening skies that had seen them off in Miami. He opened his eyes and chanced a glance out of the small window. Wisps of grey clouds swept past, the view nothing more than a thick expanse of dark fog. He closed his eyes and folded his hands across his lap as he settled more comfortably into his seat. Perhaps the weather would cooperate and this leg of the trip would be calm and uneventful.
He awoke from his doze by a slight jolt. His eyes snapped open and he tightened his clasped hands, pressing them against his belly as he gasped. He sat still, waiting for another untoward movement. He cursed silently when the plane shook again, the sensation very much like hitting a pothole in a car. But there was no solid road beneath the plane, no potholes in mid-air.
Zack let out his breath slowly, a little embarrassed that he had been holding it. He swallowed the lump in his throat and took another deep breath, letting that one out slowly as well. Then he reached for his flask of liquid courage tucked inside his coat.
"Damn," Zack muttered just before taking a sip. "I hate turbulence."
Alison sat quietly in the back of the plane not paying any attention to who was sitting next to whom. She wished her grandfather was here. He had taught her so much except the niceties of small talk.
She lifted her head and peered out the tiny window only she didn't see much. Sighing she started to look down only to find herself gasping as the plane suddenly dropped. "Oh my god," she said rather loudly before she could stop herself. "Sorry, I've never flown before."
Max's stomach seemed to leap up into his throat as the plane dropped. Reflexively, he grabbed at the armrests of his seat. The plane levelled out again, but it shuddered and jolted as it was buffeted around.
Wakanada had slept from New York to Miami but this second leg of the voyage found her wide awake. When they hit the turbulance she smiled quietly. This was the type flying she was used to. The barnstormers who took her up never flew easily or in straight paths. Instead they flew loops and bumps and sudden climbs and drops. The flight before had been like sleep in a tree. This. This was airplane flight. She moved to the window and tried to see but the clouds made it hard. Quietly she pouted.
Peter's stomach lurched with the plane, and he went pale under his tan. The motion, once he got used to it, wasn't all that bad. No, his problem was being miles up in the sky separated from death only by a tiny little plane that wasn't under his control. "Me neither," he told Alison. Being brave for the lady might help him be brave for himself. "And I might never do it again, after this."
Gavin's laughter filled the cabin and he glanced back at the others with sparkling-black eyes. “You will get use to it,” he said musically. “I'm sure the pilot was just making sure you were still paying attention.”
The Spaniard's attention returned to his companion and he peered past her out at the murky sky. “Venezuela is lovely – you will undoubtedly find it hot and sticky, but beautiful nonetheless.”
"I don't mind hot," Verity replied. "I've worked in North Africa and the Mediterranean, so the sun doesn't bother me. I quite enjoy it. Whoops!" The plane jolted again and, unbalanced from looking out of the window and without her seatbelt on, the brunette tumbled backwards into Gavin's lap.
A corded-muscled arm caught the young woman's shoulders, preventing her from tumbling out into the aisle. Dark curls of hair bounced with the impact and Gavin's mouth pulled into a semi-lecherous grin. “Well then,” he said, “you should feel right at home.”
"What...? Oh!" Verity blushed. "In the sun. Right. Erm... sorry about that. Perhaps I should put my seatbelt back on." The cheerfully unrepentant lechery in his grin flustered her a little, especially given she was sprawled in a distinctly unladylike manner across his lap.
“No need to apologize,” the Spaniard said with overt good humour. “Don't hurry on my account.”
Verity stared at him in bemusement for a second or two and then began to laugh. "You, sir, are incorrigible," she said. Her flint-grey eyes sparkled. "And whilst your lap is most comfortable, I suspect I ought to move back to my own seat. It looks as though we're going to have a bumpy ride." She slid back across to where she had come from.
Being lost in thought Alison hadn't noticed to much of the shaking of the plane until the last bump and she was sure she had lost her stomach. Taking a deep breath she leaned her head back and focused on the group in front of her...a strange group she thought. Then the plane dropped again.
Wakanda let out a joyful little squeak as the plane dropped. This had been the most enjoyable part of the trip so far. She listened to the sound of the rain and wind on the outside of the plane and remembered her fascination while flying with the barnstormers. She wished she could feel the weather on her face as she had then, but enclosed in the cabin of this luxury plane she was "protected." She sighed quietly and sat back. Since there was no one sitting with her, she had nothing to do save revel in their movement through the sky and listened to the others chatter.
The speaker crackled and hissed. Then the pilot's voice came through via the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are currently experiencing some turbulence. There is no cause for alarm. However, can I ask everyone to please ensure their seat belts are securely fastened. We will reach Caracas airport within the hour."
Zack double-checked his seatbelt and then swallowed another gulp from his flask. As the whiskey bathed his tongue with warmth and burned comfortingly down his throat, he gave the flask a little shake, hoping it would last until they reached Caracas. He'd forgotten how much he hated air travel. He'd hadn't flown that much, but the other trips had been as turbulent and his mind insisted on conjuring the worst possibilities. He gave his seatbelt another tug and settled back, trying to keep his wild imagination at bay. Behind him, maybe a few seats back, he thought he heard a giggle. Someone's enjoying this? He shook his head and fished in his breast pocket for his lucky rabbit's foot, clutching it tightly as the plane jolted again.
The plane bounced about for some time before the pilot managed to navigate them out of the turbulence and into clear airspace. More than one person heaved a sigh of relief as everything settled down.
Verity watched out of the window as the plane circled the airfield below. The buildings looked like children's toys at first, but gradually grew larger and larger as they descended. There was a slight jolt as the wheels hit the runway. Slowly, the plane taxied to a halt.
The pilot's voice came over the intercom again. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Caracas," he said.