Reno

Reno
It was a dreary day. I was at Portland International Airport on Sunday morning at eight-eleven. It was a dreary day to fly. The wind outside was powerful, as the trees turned into dancers and the sky became grey. A woman and her three children ahead of me seemed to be having an even drearier day. The children were dressed almost ghost like with no smiles or jumping around. The 3 seemed to be the only ones on the flight. I was very thankful for this. I could see the line moving from afar and began making my way through the grey glass tube which made it seem like you were floating. The mist was surreal. I tried gaining comfort from smooth sound of my pull-on on the small circles which made the floor. The zipping sound reminded me of overlooking the Mystic Mountain when I was in Jamaica. For once it seemed like I won’t be caught. Soon I could smell the unfresh coffee mixed with airplane milk. A strong chill came with it. The flight attendant before me grabbed my ticket then somewhat looked me up and down. After she gave me back my ticket, faked a smile, and said “Enjoy your flight Sir.”
I had started flying frequently since I turned twenty-nine, yet I still hated it, I was forty-two now. First strike- the puny ailes which took forever to get through. The usual woman and three children who stopped the whole cycle, what felt like hours to settle down. The confused senior citizen who either had taken the wrong seat or caused confusion while returning from the restroom. These were my favorites. My seat was towards the back. Precisely, seat thirty-seven F. I had boarded the plane slightly later for convenience purposes. The airplane has three seats on each side and around forty rows in economy. Once I had found my seat, I slid through the other two and landed on the window-seat.
We were about to depart and my third “favorite” passenger has arrived. This is the passenger who delays. They were just about to begin playing the safety video when I spotted him. He seemed to be wandering about, not really looking for a specific seat. He just glared at the faces of the other passengers. As he approached my seat, to my surprise he sat next to me. Not somewhere in the row but, right next to me. Imagine sardines, if you will. The man was very average. He had gingerish hair from what I could see through his flat cap. For the most part he looked pretty put together. Calm and collected. I had only noticed his sweat stains as he was putting his backpack in the overhead locker. The only thing that threw me off was his irritating right arm, which kept nudging me even after he has apologized once. Then again, he was ‘my 3rd favorite passenger,’ late and unsettled. Throughout the flight, I believed he was sleeping. When I attempted to look over, but shortly after take off I realized he was taller than me and perhaps was not sleeping. The distance between us was uncomfortable.
As our spurious flight attendants were coming around, the man got up. Once again, it would have been obvious for me to look. Maybe it was the restroom. When he returned, he finally sat in the aisle seat. The man pulled out his phone and plugged in his head phones. This was normal. Moments later, he resumed to what I now knew was sleeping. The phone on his lap now brightened up. Folsom Prison Blues by Johnny Cash was playing. Below that was a notification:
“Did you manage to get the body? Plan hasn’t changed and I will still be waiting at that corner. Don’t forget.”
A lower notification said:
“Babe where are you?”
I knew it was pointless getting involved. It was all very suspicious on one hand. All my focus should be towards getting to Reno. For the rest of the plane ride, I minded my own business by flipping through magazines, as well as a failed attempt to sleep. Before I knew it, we had arrived. The captain seemed more relieved than I was on the speaker. The line to exit the plane had began to form. I patiently waited for the peculiar man seated next to me stand up. He was the type to wait for most people to get off the plane, allowing several other passengers to pass before he did. I followed closely behind him to get off the plane. As we were walking in the tight aisles, a pillow on the ground was waiting for me. Luckily, we were almost the last ones on the plane. My inconvenient fall sent the man almost tumbling over. He had dropped his phone under the seat to my left. As the man was being consoled by the other passengers, it was my opportunity to look at his phone once more. This time I was only able to gather a part about something being hid and what I assumed said drugs. At this point the situation was made me nervous. McCarran International Airport was rather large. There were hundreds of people. A bit too many for a Sunday in March. I proceeded towards immigration, security and finally outside. I caught a cab to the nearest inn, as my bus ticket was for the following day. It felt good to not be around so many people with all the travelling and airport exploring.
The inn was oddly welcoming. The owners tried to imitate a Best Western hotel. It was mini with with a tile floor and a gleaming pool seen through the lobby. I checked in with the woman at the desk and the experience was not flattering at all. “It would do for one night, I thought to myself.” I had gotten used to delaying a day or two. I grabbed my room key and headed towards an elevator, which seemed to be the only one in the place. Before I had gotten on, there were 9 people who squished to fit inside therefore I had to wait for it to come back down. Counting the 3 floors backward, as projected on the wall. I could feel someone approaching me. The person had a minty smell and from was not too big nor too small. When the elevator came down and opened, the large mirror allowed me to see that it was the man who sat by me on the plane. He didn’t utter a word except for a soft cough. It was an unpleasant experience. We reached the 3rd floor, which was where my room was. The man waited for me to leave before he could go. For a second it seemed as though he was going to remain. Suddenly, he stepped out. The 2 of us went our separate ways and never looked back. That was until I opened my room door which was on the left side of the hallway. As I opened the room, I turned to see the man walk right to the end of the hall in which there was a translucent door. He opened it to reveal a flight of stairs and began walking down. I was too curious about this man. I quickly dumped my suitcase on the cotton comforter and I dashed to follow the man, went down the stairs. I spotted the beige flat cap emerging from the staircase below. He began walking down the street towards what looked like a corner store. I swiftly followed the man down the street, into the corner store, and found myself in a dark room. The sign at the front of the store wrote “Little Paradise Delhi.” The store was the color of a hot dog. It was generally a red sort of color with yellow tarp to cover it. With white features like the windows and doors, like the bread. In the corner of the dull room there was a full garbage bag. I slowly creeped towards it. The room was quiet and my hands were shaking. Curiously, I lifted the plastic to reveal a man’s body. His face was still in shock with his eyes wide open.
I fumbled around in my pocket to take out a photo from 2 days ago and it was in fact the man I was sent to kill.