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Who’s who again?
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Hyperaware of sitting inside a metal box in the sky, Roxanne looked out of the porthole, becoming just as aware of being tiny and insignificant compared to the vastness of the ocean that surrounded her.
The kids were asleep, a prehistoric looking Nintendo console on the tray table in front of them. They hadn’t even cried when they said goodbye to Eric. Her husband — ex, if she had had the time and chance to divorce him before leaving — did tear up. The cynic inside of her considered them tears of joy. He could now fully focus on sticking his dick anywhere possible. With high society reduced to such smaller numbers, you could think people would cheat on each other and fuck each other less. You’d have to think again. At times, it felt like Eric was breathing in Viagra instead of oxygen.
Oh well, something less to think of, less to pretend.
Roxanne thought she saw some land in the distance. She put down the glass and walked the two steps to the pilot cabin, asking if she was hallucinating. The pilot and her could talk in their mother tongue.
You’re absolutely right, I will try to fly close to London, to see the city again after all this time. Not too far anymore. In less than three hours, we’ll be home.
Home. For the Swiss pilot, this chance to fly home and see his family again had come out of nowhere. He had been stuck in the camp, drunk on God knows what kind of locally distilled concoction, until one of Roxanne’s contacts had found him, sobered him up and offered him an opportunity he couldn’t even have imagined in his most inebriated state. To know that and see him now, she would have never guessed he almost choked to death on his vomit two weeks ago. Well, better not to think of that at ten kilometers altitude.
Home. For Roxanne, it was a matter of going back to her roots, seeing her mountains again, having her kids with her where she grew up. Seeing if anything was left of what she had been part of for years before helping blowing it up.
Dying where she was born.
Something her asshole husband and oh-so-faithful-Zac had unknowingly agreed on was that there was no danger to their lives. Roxanne knew better. She could feel these things. Plus, her mama instinct was never wrong.
Zac actually warned her that it might be more dangerous in Zurich. At least the evil close by was the one they knew. That was not the case for the higher ups inside the walls in Zurich.
The waters rising are one thing. But with these people you never know what’s next.
Well, last time I checked, there was no possibility of waters rising in Switzerland. Also, don’t forget we are these people.
At that, Zac had moved so close that their noses were almost touching.
Don’t you compare me for one second to the fucking scum that you guys are.
We’ve all played our roles. Some hands are dirtier than others. History must have thought you that some of the cleanest hands are behind a lot of suffering.
The memory of this last conversation faded out as they began their descent. Not one easily surprised, Roxanne couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw the size of the camp outside the inner walls.
She hadn’t considered that returning home would mean facing the fact that at least some of the people outside these walls had been her friends and family.
Table of Contents
Who’s who again?
Previous chapter in this arc