A skinny hand crept from under the soothing pillow. A dull thud exploded from the vicinity of the once pristine alarm clock, the remnants of which were now precariously balanced at full-tilt on the bedside table. It continued to twitch an evil grin, defiantly winking in unison to its incomprehensible display, trying to taunt its victim whilst recovering a little self-modesty. Its innards had spontaneously combusted and were now sprawled across the icy cold surface, little pools of electronic wires and circuits formed as parts trickled out.
Evidence of its wickedness could only be spotted by peering from the corner of one’s eye, only detectable between the on and off phase of its damaged display, which was now flickering impatiently in dismay. There was a pent up rage within, a waiting revenge, ready to erupt from the little man-made object. A tick and click later and it managed to switch its track to side ‘B’, in pure delight, it started to blare out a sharp swansong. The once crisp factory set ditty had now been remixed into an ear splitting scream, a Banshee’s delight. The fragile head of the victim burrowed further into his pillow of protection, his hands rammed as much of it as humanly possible into his sensitive ears.
“Oh… for the love of god!” A muffled suffering voice grumbled from beneath the fluffy pillow.
Jake needed it to be quiet. After all, millions of recuperating brain cells demanded it so. They’d not be responsible for their retaliatory response. The thought of any head movement was intolerable, but the excruciating noise notified him of the alternative repercussions; to continue with last night’s close-up scientific examination of the room’s porcelain toilet rim. A place that’d seen and hosted thousands of exposed posteriors. An unpalatable proposition at the best of times, made worse by the condition he remembered leaving it in, during his drunken stupor.
The noise echoed around the room. The pitch gained gradually in intensity, forming a rip-roaring scream before transcending through a sudden sparking-sizzling phase; as if to announce a loss of steam. It finally squawked a final chirp of breath, before resting deadly silent, flopping over with a final thud. A cool calm peace descended the room. The bed occupier shuffled snuggly into the recovery position, relieved by its demise.
Several hours passed before Jake managed to wake and vacate the room, doing so with barely minutes remaining on the agreement thus avoiding another late checkout fine.
His patentable concoction of headache pills laced with Coca-Cola, termed ‘Old Faithful’, settled in his stomach by a packet of salt and vinegar crisps. It magically bestowed him another twenty-four hours of leave from the sickening immobility in which an evening of drunken debauchery would typically levy. He willingly transfigured into a walking zombie, accepting the forfeit in advance of the eviction now served against the two little evil squash players, who had been frantically swatting their little hard rubber ball randomly off the inside of his skull. He also acknowledged the future debt imposed by the rapid relief; an early bedtime or scrub his social life from the calendar for at least a week.
Jake took a mental note as he left the lobby. His Old Faithful needed work on, as it required an adjustment or two. It failed to derail the embarrassing flashbacks now arriving thick and fast on the express freight train from Horror-Town. His legs struggled to wade across the sinking sand, manifesting from the large slabs of side walk concrete. They appeared in conjunction to the flashes rippling across and consuming his frontal cortex. A cyclic pattern of remembrance, regret and then a strong urge to cease to exist grew within him. With each frame recalled by his recovering synapses, came the next vivid picture, painting something more spine-chilling than the last.
His face resembled a traffic light, initially painted red in embarrassment. It faded fast into a pale yellow of stomach wrenching sickness. Finally, his face succumbed to a ghostly greenish-white, reflecting the death he so desired. The flashbacks grew in intensity, powered by rumour, spread by gossiping neighbouring cells, like Chinese whispers across the recess of his brain. Their consensus forecasted a bleak future ahead!
People in the street gave him a wide birth. Clearly, he was one disturbed and distressed individual. The self-preservation gene, embedded within each of the town’s suspicious residents, was alert and wary to him. An invisible sphere of pungent stink clung and enveloped him. Showering had been firmly scrubbed off his “To-Do” list for the day. If his state of appearance failed to betray him to an on-comer, then the gentle downwind breeze would alert even the most hardened nostril from at least a mile.
Jake was on his first international assignment, which happened to be one of many firsts in his life. Flying had been at the pinnacle of the pile. Having been one of his greatest fears, he not only conquered it, he turned it into the greatest white knuckled thrill in the world. A whale of a plane had transported him along with the many overweight citizens across the Atlantic. Complemented by a bus sized, short-hopper, interconnecting transfer flight between the state’s cities. It zipped around the sky like an angry bee, as if trapped behind the counter of a sweet shop.
Jake’s facial expression currently wore an uncanny resemblance to that seen during the turbulent bounces and lurches of that adrenaline inducing torrid flight.
The journey to where he walked had been a long and exhausting one. His assignment had been hectic and demanding. It was definitely not as glamorous as he’d been led to believe back in the office. Jake was now being punished with the toll of the trip. The fun and glamour had been replaced by exhaustion and depression. His hopes and expectations evaporated into a cesspit of dull realisation.
He had served his employer fresh out of university, as a computer science graduate with honours a mere few years back. He’d been strategically fortunate in gaining the project assignment, although squarely blamed it as the root cause to his state of wellbeing. He had succeeded to impress his clients but failed to control their enthusiasm at the many frequented bars after. Jake had enjoyed the last few days of being free from mummy’s shackles, shattered only a few days ago, but the dawn of returning had entered his thoughts.
He was a guy burdened with a skinny demeanour despite his surprisingly large stride. His jeans and t-shirt were crumpled, clearly needing an iron by his suffocating mother. Their purchase had been made with that loving ‘last-ability’, incorporating plenty of room for her growing boy to fill out; in hope more than expectation. Mother’s influence and meddling was questionable during that shopping trip, just a fortnight ago. Four years of university life had led him to experiment with alcohol and binge eating, a clear scientific proof that he was ineligible to gain additional weight or sprout just that little bit taller during this trip. He was nearing his mid-twenties; therefore, he certainly wasn’t the teenager that she still fondly needed and wanted to nurture. There was a pressing need to escape the claws of that loving, dedicated and proud mother. Was this his last chance?
He had flown all the way to a foreign land, albeit, America. He’d survived the daunting flights and driving on the wrong side of the road. All of which begun to reinforce his confidence in going forth and conquering life, grasping adventure in both hands; particularly gripping the steering wheel as tight as a bear on several occasions! On the night of his arrival, his first encounter with an approaching set of headlights had been terrifying. On that cold, dark, late and exhausted evening, he gained a modicum of religious belief. Praying, would they remain to his left, or should that be to his right?
The adventure was ending and his mother’s influence came crashing back into his thoughts. Breath stealing reality pressed upon him, like a snake coiled and constricting his stomach, given there was a need to get back for his grandparents 60th wedding anniversary. Her nagging flickered in and out of thought, like a flickering candle on a breezy window windowsill.
“You can’t be going next week! They’ll not be alive for much longer you know.” His mother played a strong opening gambit, a grand move for a lady who proclaimed absolutely no knowledge of chess.
“... But I have too Mother… After all, I scheduled it at late notice!” Jake sacrificed his Queen early by mistake. As he uttered the words before thinking, he realised how stupid he had been. He had forgotten to double check his diary before scheduling the workshop with his International contacts.
“Well, you can simply rearrange it! Your father will be there with your nice new step-mother. I need you to be there for me as well as your sister.” She placed her queen in a vulnerable position, in order to sneakily form a pinning position behind his king with her devious bishops.
“... Buuut Mother … You know whose decision that was. I’m not getting pulled back into your affairs and games again. I’ve booked flights and I will be back with plenty of time spare on Saturday morning.” A grand move worthy of any champion or so he thought. Jake left little room for argument whilst avoiding yet another flood of water-works. He recognised her manipulation and clearly told her that she was being selfish.
“What if you miss your plane? What if it’s late? Are you able to promise me to be back in time?” Her Bishops had started stoking the coals underneath their medieval torture chair. They’d already calculated the exact number of puncture wounds that their victim could endure and were now eagerly pumping air into the fire.
“Ok Mother, you win! I don’t want to argue.” Jake was frustrated, knowing she’d not ease up. “I’ll forget my plan to cross over the border to see Niagara Falls on my free afternoon on Thursday. Instead, I’ll book a return home flight half a day earlier. Does that reassure you?” He was now angry. “The money I’ll save from that once in a lifetime opportunity to see the waterfalls will probably cover the rearrangement fees that I’ll incur.” Jake grumbled disappointedly. How had he let her win? He loved her, but disliked her manipulative manoeuvring.
Check mate, another challenge in life lost. Jake had not only crumbled with pathetic ease, but he had begrudgingly surrendered the overtime that he had painfully built up the month before, having sacrificed several raucous parties to earn it. That extra money would have paid for the side trip, now he’d be giving it away on rearrangement fees to the airline. He sacrificed himself yet again; a selfless concession to his suffocating and demanding mother. Would she always win? Jake understood he needed to finally break away from her influence. She may have had several worrying strokes in the past, causing partial paralysis, but she was now recovered. It had been many years since her last episode and the medicines were working. Her dependency on him was now not natural and he needed to wean her off him.
Thursday afternoon of his promise soon arrived. His morning meeting had been cancelled, due to the success and early closure of the workshop. He’d needed the morning to recover some of his basic functions damaged by the excessive celebrations. With little time for food, Jake hailed a taxi from the boardwalk and instructed him to head straight for the airport. Having acted sensibly after the close of the meeting, he had been wise to return the hire car early, before the shenanigans began. The private transport would be his last luxury of the trip.
As the taxi driver stepped out, he looked at Jake, “Airport?” He quizzically enquired.
Jake assumed his current condition and persona was the reason for the question, but as the yellow box on wheels turned into the airport, he sensed an eerie feeling of abandonment, despite his inattentive state.
A deserted spaghetti western scene presented itself, complete with a spindle of tumble weed, scuttling by as the taxi turned into the parking lot. An isolated car stood in solitude amongst the rows on rows of empty concreted parking lots. The grid of yellow and white lines marking out the slots that should be crammed with cars looked desolate. Jake double checked his watch before paying the taxi driver, who had retrieved the small luggage from the bowel of the white striped beast.
Ceremoniously, the double doors for the departures section of the building opened automatically with a childlike excitement, accompanied by a gleeful ping. It was acutely more audible than usual, given the lack of active noise that would usually live in the terminal.
‘Squeak… Squeak… Squeak…’ Jake chuckled as his footwear failed to put pay to the polished mouse under his feet. The sound was sharp and loud, given the abandonment of travellers. In fact, he couldn’t resist stopping and deliberately scraping the soles of his shoes a little, in order to exacerbate the noise. He hastily moved on upon noticing the little slithers of rubber that had parted company, assimilated into the glistening fresh floor wax, leaving a trail of dark residue fun.
‘Bugger’ was the first word to pop into Jake’s thoughts on looking up and examining the electronic information board. Cancelled cascaded like a waterfall down each and every line of the display as it refreshed itself.
“Can I help you sir?” A deep American voice wrestled Jake from the jaws of panic.
“Eh… Ah… Er… Erm. I’m not entirely sure!?!” Jake squeaked and squealed like a scared rat.
“Which airline are you booked with?” The official enquired, using his authoritative and reassuring tone to calm the flustered Englishman.
“..Ah.. American Airlines. Yes, I’m flying AA to JFK at 14:00, I ne..” Jake was scanning the itinerary document that he’d prised out of his rucksack.
“No sir. No one is flying today.” The authoritative figure interrupted Jake in midsentence, “Snow blizzard, sir”
“Snow?” Jake tried to comprehend the unacceptable scenario. He had hoped the computers had crashed and were displaying the wrong information. His heart skipped a beat.
“A blizzard has struck the New York vicinity. Have you not seen the news? All state air traffic is suspended for at least a couple of days, sir” He delivered the unwanted truth.
The mummy’s boy within Jake came flooding back like the tides of night. He started to panic. His head was on overload, shutting down ready for a restart. “... But … What do I do now? How will I get home? I ne..”
“The airline will schedule a new flight as soon as the snow stops, which is likely to be late Sunday.” The guy tried to reassure Jake by smiling, “you will have to extend your stay sir. Why not hire a car and head over the border to see the beautiful waterfalls? It’s a beautiful time of year to see them, especially given the rain we recently had.”
Jake resisted the official’s attempted Jedi mind-trick. He had no time for this silliness. “I have to get home, you just don’t understand. I promised!” Jake appealed, like a spoilt child, leaving the man unconvinced.
“No sir. There will be no flights leaving here today or for the next foreseeable few.” The official didn’t want to argue, but given how deserted the building was, he was happy to continue as long as Jake desired.
“Ah ha… Are they flying out of JFK to England?” Jake quizzed both in hope and in an attempt to catch the official out.
The official huffed a short breath before disappearing off down into the distance. He leaned behind a high counter and began checking his monitor behind desk demarcated as the ‘Customer Services’ desk. The sign shone brightly illuminated over the grubby looking area. The tapping of his keyboard pinged around the building as if a heavy game of table tennis had been commenced. With a plastic sounding crash of the keyboard being flung back across the counter, the official strode back up the squeaky floor in his shiny boots, giving Jake the opinion that he must have been ex-military. Every step was focused and purposeful, his head stood tall and proud.
“No sir. The computer is exhibiting delayed status across the board.” A small satisfactory smile almost leaked out of the side of his mouth. “It is quite possible for them to reopen as soon as conditions lift, but that could still be in several days.” The official looked Jake in his eyes to reassure he’d thought of everything, “I’ve even looked at your scheduled 19:00 British Airways flight. The computer confirms the flight is flagged as delayed as well.” A strange expression fell upon the smart official.
The official began to notice Jake’s unpleasant odour and was now trying to conceal his disgust by extending the distance between them, although he would have needed several feet before being truly comfortable.
“How do I obtain a hire car?” Jake asked.
“Oh great! You’re going to take my advice and visit Niagara? You’ll love the visit to the falls!” The official lit up like a newly struck match, “may I also recommend a good hotel?” His commission shone as silhouettes within his eyes.
“Oh I couldn’t possibly. No, regretfully not this time. I must get home so I’ve decided to drive to JFK.” Jake asserted himself. His mother’s mind had decided for him.
The official looked aghast. An uneasy silence fell between the two of them. Jake began to wonder whether he’d accidentally sworn at the helpful official.
“I said blizzard sir, do you understand?” The official looked concerned, as if he was talking to an escaped patient of the local mental hospital.
“Yes, we also get snow at home, too. England doesn’t just stop because of a little bit of snow.” Jake would one day reflect and laugh at his naivety with this statement, fondly remembering it, over and over, as the day he could have died.
“Ok … Well, if you insist. Fortunately for you, we have a car left for hire. I’m sure you couldn’t have missed it on the way in.” The official beckoned Jake towards his desk defeated. “Follow me and we’ll go complete the paper work. I guess you’ll be requiring a map?” The official gave up with the idiot and decided to cash in on the last car.
The official soon had Jake completing the multitude of paperwork, explaining each and every different type of insurance he would require. Gaining his signature as proof that he was the taking all the risks.
After his last signature, committing Jake to the car, the official plucked up the courage to ask a sensitive and embarrassing question, “Excuse my asking sir, but are you fit to drive?” The official secretly hoped Jake wasn’t as he was genuinely concerned for his customer. Setting off on such a long and risky trip seemed completely idiotic to him. The official reminded Jake of the harsh state laws for ‘Perps’ that break the law. Reluctantly, Jake purchased an upsell, using the self-breathalyzer test kit in front of the persuasive man. They both stood there as the machine digested Jake’s breath. They were both duly surprised as the all clear light flashed green and an excited buzz confirmed it.
With keys in hand, Jake thanked the official and headed out to the four wheel drive monster, abandoned amongst the thousands of empty spaces. His small suitcase looked miniscule in the vast boot that consumed it. He clambered nervously into the driver’s seat, inserted the key into the ignition and allowed the loud throb of the V8 vibrate through his stiff bones. It grabbed his attention with a thrill and delight.
He momentarily sat there, thinking. Was he sure he could do this? Should he change plans? Could he drive that sort of distance without being familiar with the highways? Did snow mean snow like home, or had he misunderstood?
The above is yet to be given a final edit
Thanks for reading! This is the second chapter of a serialised story I've been writing, part time, for the past few years. There's quite a few chapters written and I'll continue to publish, if there is a demand. I'm not a writer by profession, but I thought I'd try my hand at it.
There are explicit scenes later on in the chapters, hence they will be given NSFW warning.
I'd also appreciate any constructive critism.
Next Chapter 2 - Road-trip
My introduction
