Rule Number Four
by Yvonne Kjorlien
Copyright 2013 Yvonne Kjorlien
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Even before the plane landed, Tanis knew the tear was in Antigua. The engines died but the resonance in his chest remained. Tanis’ eyes scanned the reactions of the other passengers. Either no one heard it or no one cared. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he knew that hum, its distinctive pitch, the way its vibration gave him a strange sense of comfort, he’d have discounted its presence here.
The coincidence didn’t mean anything.
Tanis waited for the other passengers to disembark. The codeine he’d taken on his stop-over in Toronto was beginning to wear off. Shaking and sweating, Tanis took a deep breath to push down the threatening bile in his throat then made for the door.
On the asphalt, the heat was oppressive. It encouraged the nausea. Tanis detoured to the side of the small airport, where he could vomit in private if need be. For a moment, he listened to his weak body, how it seemed to shutter against the exertion of standing, breathing, existing. He placed a steadying hand against the concrete wall of the terminal. The vibration of the hum jumped into his palm. His body relaxed. The nausea eased. And he wished it wasn’t so.