I checked the email for the third time. One suitcase containing my clothes and toiletries. Check. Already sent on to be inspected and detected to make sure it was safe. One carry-on for personal effects, maximum weight fifteen pounds, subject to inspection.
I glanced down at my carry-on.
It was one of those soft duffle-type cat carriers, solid floor, mesh sides. It held all my important things. Phone. Papers. Identification. Cat. Everything a girl could need to be relocated somewhere without details.
I glanced around at the “airport.” It had all the earmarks of a military relocation, but none of the military personnel. Strange. The gate was less an airline checkpoint and more a security detail with teeth, nothing like a standard terminal. I also noticed there was no one else waiting for this flight. Curious.
I reached the gate and set the carrier on the table. I walked through the security arch, and the people doing the work actually looked inside instead of just glancing at it.
“Um… this is a cat,” the man standing there said.
“Yes,” I replied. “Yes, he is.”
“The cat can’t go,” he said, looking about as dumbfounded as he sounded.
“The cat goes. Policy states that any personal effects I can fit into a carry-on are acceptable as long as it’s under fifteen pounds. It weighs a little over ten. I’m carrying the bag. He’s personal, and he fits.”
He checked his paperwork and then waved us through with a confused look. It reminded me of one of those people who are completely anal when it comes to policy and rules, and then get confused when the rules are vague and policy has no answers.
I climbed into a small enclosed golf cart with darkened windows. Kyper gave a soft, questioning merow. I shushed him and waited. I’d seen secrecy before, but this was a lot.
The cart moved forward. It took a few minutes to reach the plane.
When I stepped out, lights flooded the exterior of the building beside me. I couldn’t see anything beyond the glare except a ramp.
I walked up it carefully. The surface was slick with dew.
Inside, everything was sterile white. The seats were tan, rigid, and deeply unforgiving. I sat and noted the carry-on storage was… excessive. I wasn’t putting my cat there, so I strapped him in beside me as best I could. It turned out to be a harness, which gave me pause. Since when did planes have harnesses? I dismissed it almost immediately. Military transport did. I registered the craft as a military plane, finished strapping in, and let the thought go.
No comments:
Post a Comment