Page 3 of Night So Silent
“Says here you’re wanted for murder,” she drawls in a squeaky voice straight out of the hills.
I blink, speechless.
“Follow me.” She motions to a door on the back wall as the younger agent more-than-a-little conspicuously puts his hand on his firearm.
She mumbles something into her walkie-talkie and it’s not five seconds before another gaggle of agents descend on the checkpoint as they lead me into a tiny, windowless room like I’m the Joker being escorted into Arkham. I take a seat in one of the chairs and before I can open my mouth to ask what the hell is going on, the door slams shut and I’m alone.
I must look at my watch every minute or so, acutely aware that I could miss my flight depending on how annoyed these people are today. I meant to grab a snack as soon as I got through security. I would kill for a Snickers right now. Meanwhile, I’m still in my sock feet. Minutes go by and I’m debating opening the door and risking being shot by the mall cop outside when the doorknob clicks and a new agent waltzes in.
Instead of a greeting, he nods to the concourse. “You’re free to go.”
“That’s it? What was the problem?”
“You can go now.”
“Look,” I say as I approach, still in my sock feet, “if your system is flagging me for murder, then I should probably know before going through security on my return trip.”
“You’re not. They typed in a G instead of a B for your name.”
My irritation intensifies, and I can only stare back at him through slitted eyes.
“Son of a—”No cursing.
Clenching my jaw, I hurry out of the room to my backpack and shoes on the counter with my passport laying on top. Suddenly, no one seems to acknowledge that I even exist. But it doesn’t matter. I just need to get on this plane. I’m almost to the gate, with less than 10 minutes to spare, when a voice echoes over the speaker.
“Attention passengers for flight 1691 to Denver, please be advised that your departure has been delayed due to a crew shortage. Please stand by for further information.”
I collapse into one of the pleather seats with a groan. I have a two-hour layover in Denver before catching another flight into Montrose, but every minute that goes by risks throwing a wrench in my entire trip. Having nothing else to do, I decide to do an Internet search for this dude who caused me to be detained in a tiny airport room—GarrettHalsey. Seconds later, I learn that he’s wanted in Alabama for robbing a Steak-N-Shake before embarking on a string of highway murders. However,heis a man who’s 6’2” and weighs 280 pounds.
Typical.
After an hour, I start to get antsy. There have been no updates and if I don’t get on a plane soon, I’m not going to make it to Gunnison today. But my worry is interrupted by a shrill voice over at the gate desk. I glance over and immediately roll my eyes when I see the same scarecrow woman in heels who cut in front of me at security.
“This is unacceptable!” she shrieks. “There’s a pilot right there, why can’t he fly the plane?” She points at a crew member at the next gate who may or may not actually be a pilot.
“Ma’am, that’stheircrew, not ours,” says the gate agent. “And we need a whole crew for the aircraft to leave the gate.”
“I haveneverexperienced this level of incompetence while flying!”
If she’d stuck around longer at security, she might change her mind. In any event, it dawns on me that I need to make a decision before all options disappear. I rise and reluctantly approach the other agent at the desk.
“Hi,” I greet the younger guy who looks relieved that his more senior coworker is dealing with the Scarecrow. “Can I switch to a different flight? I’m afraid I won’t make my connection.”
He asks my name and starts typing and clicking.
“Get me on another flight!” the Scarecrow bellows next to me, making me flinch.
“There’s nothing until tomorrow,” her agent sighs. “I can check a different airline if you’d like.” Clearly, they just want her out of this terminal. “It looks like there’s one seat left on the next United flight that leaves in 25 minutes.”
“Fine!” she shouts, slamming her palm down on the counter.
She purses her lips so hard that not even her inch-thick makeup can hide the years of unbridled loathing and disdain.
The agent starts clicking, but then lets out an exasperated huff. “Devin, is the system giving you problems?”
Devin steps away from his screen and glances at hers, furrowing his brow. “Why isn’t it letting you select another carrier? I was about to book another flight for this customer, too.”
“That seat is mine!” the Scarecrow snaps.
