A Woman of the Swamp 2-1 [1 of 2]

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Unfortunately, this chapter is a biggun, so I had to split it in two! It's the start of Part II, so it needed some breathing room. 

Part II – The Right Drunk

3 Years Later

1. The Big Easy

A thousand marching bands vied for dominance in the limited confines of Nick’s skull. Bass drums pounded in his temples, vibrating the edge of his vision with agonizing throbs. Every inch of his body hurt, and he suspected it had either been a very good night or a very bad one. Acid burned in his stomach trying to eat him from the inside out. As he opened his eyes, bright light seared his corneas. He closed them immediately. What in the hell was I thinking and what in the hell was I drinking?

             “You alive over there?” a familiar voice called from the ether.

            Nick opened his eyes briefly and saw Shirley Codwell sitting opposite him in a faded leather chair. “Alive is a strong way to put it.” Nearly dying in the Land of the Dead was a comparison point. The ground shifted beneath them and the roar of engines cut through the relatively peaceful agony Nick had been wallowing in. “Don’t tell me I’m on a plane.” Avoiding planes had practically become a pastime in the last year and he found he slept better as a result. Metal boxes that went impractically high were doomed from the outset to end their lives in fiery catastrophe.  

            “Alright, you’re not on a plane.”

The sound of a metal seatbelt clicking into place said otherwise. The ground tilted further and jostled from side to side. Nick opened his eyes again, careful to raise a hand to shield them. The lights might as well have been coming from a deity. Squinting through the pain, he got his first good look at his surroundings. Despite words to the contrary, he was on a plane, private by the looks of it. The chairs were plush leather and polished wood tables were set between them. “You’re a lying prick, you know that?”

            Shirley smiled. “Nice to see you too, Nick. It’s been a while.”

            Nick grunted and pushed himself to a seat. “A phone call would have sufficed. Didn’t have to go through the elaborate process into tricking me onto a date.” The thought of it still stung. That night had been the first date Nick had scored in years and it ended with a sour stomach and crushed dreams.

            “I had to be sure.”

            “Yes, of course. Governments and their rules. Did that hurt?” He motioned to her face. When he had first met Shirley, she was a mousy tabloid worker trying to expose Bigfoot. The woman sitting across from him was wearing a suit that cost more than he made in a year and looked perfectly at home. Her face had been completely altered thanks to a government-sanctioned program. The only thing that remained of the old Shirley was her eyes and a certain snarky whit.

            “Not in the way you think. They knocked me out for most of it, but it takes a while getting used to seeing someone else in the mirror.”

            “Happens to me every morning existentially.”

            “Ha, ha.”

            “So, you trick your friends into getting on fancy government planes and wake them up when they should be left to rot?” At the word rot, Nick’s stomach did a turn. He looked around quickly and found a metal bucket had been mercifully placed between his legs. Thankfully, he held whatever vile substance his stomach was cooking up on the inside. “This sounds like the beginning of a wonderfully productive working relationship.”

“Your colleagues assured me that you weren’t going to be a problem, but judging by the state of things…”

Pressing his lips tight, Nick tried to sit up straight and felt soreness radiate through every inch of his body. With each passing day, he grew more accustomed to it. It was the aftermath of a horrible trip down some rapids without a boat and assault from all manner of supernatural creatures. A year had passed, but there were some things the body never truly healed from.  He took a few breaths, finding calm and trying to stop the room from spinning. “Look, the last time I saw you, we were running from The Sixth Side, and they nearly killed us.”

Shirley put her hands out. “I know, I know.”

Nick looked around for a drink and found nothing but bottled water. He grabbed it and took a spiteful sip. It was what his body needed to stay alive, but it would do nothing for the guilt he was feeling. “How did they find you?” he asked.

For a while, Shirley didn’t answer. Her bright eyes searched him, seeing through to the marrow beneath. “Maybe there’s a time for us to talk about it, but I don’t think that’s now.” Her eyes twitched almost imperceptibly upward.

Nick looked at the ceiling and saw the black dome of a security camera. “Right, well, wouldn’t expect a goody government agent to spill the beans after all.” It hurt Nick to say it. What he really wanted to do was apologize. At least, that’s what he told himself. “You mentioned my colleagues. Where are they?” A new fear suddenly shot through Nick.  “For the love of God, don’t tell me you let Lopsang fly!”

Shirley tried to calm him, but Nick was already on his feet. He pushed down the intense nausea fighting its way up through his throat. “Look, he’ll tell you he has a ‘pilot’s license’, but it’s from an online university and I’m not entirely sure it counts. I’m not even sure he did a real test flight before they sent him that PDF certificate.” His heart beat wildly, remembering a lightning storm high above the Amazon Rainforest. “Does this thing have parachutes? If Lopsang is flying, we should both be strapped in and near an exit.” He started rooting around the overhead compartments.

            Shirley laughed. “Relax, Nick. I know it was a fake date, but I did listen to your story about Lopsang crashing that plane in the jungle. Believe me, his miraculous escape from that wreck is something we’re going to discuss another time.”

            Nick paced back and forth, stumbling as the plane banked into a left turn. “You’re sure he’s not flying? Because it sure as hell feels like he is.”

            “I’m sure. I like Lopsang, but I wouldn’t let him anywhere near the controls on this jet. The retired Air Force pilot at the sticks is going to be offended at the implication though.”

            “Great, I’ll add him to the list of military personnel who want me tied up in a black site.” Nick sat down, taking slow breaths through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. He still thought mindfulness was bullshit, but in a pinch, breathing right could stop panic. “Small miracles, I guess. But where are they? Also, does this plane have a bar?” The luxury feel of the cabin said it did. “And if it does, how fast can I get there?”

            Shirley cleared her throat. “Same old Nick. Yes, the plane does have a bar, and if you can give me your attention for five minutes, I’ll give you the combination.

            Nick salivated at the thought. Any bar that had a combination was worth raiding, that was for damned sure. He sat up straight and tried to convey undivided attention. It wasn’t really something he was capable of, but after years of practice, he had honed the look. “Alright, Shirley, hit me with it. Why am I working for one of my least favorite shadow organizations, and how did they get me on a god damned plane?”

            “I’ll start with the easy one. Lopsang carried you on the plane because you were incapacitated. I’m guessing the ringing in your ears and shooting pain in your temples can tell you why.”

            Nick didn’t say anything but rubbed the sides of his head gingerly.

            A cocky smirk crossed Shirley’s face, but she smoothed it out. “Don’t worry, the bar’s got something for that. Government shadow organizations have enough funding to create world-class hangover remedies.”

            The thought of some relief from his pain was almost enough to bring Nick to tears. Each word Shirley spoke exploded in the air like a Fourth of July celebration and brought renewed agony. “I’m listening.”

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