Through the Looking Glass

Right after Frank pushed the green pattern as the craft began to hiss strangely.  The three of them stepped back and someone up in the control room overlooking them noticed.  An alarm sounded and a not so calm voice alerted everyone to a possible danger in the hangar bay that housed the craft.  

In seconds several other white-clad technicians had arrived some with instruments, some with weapons.  All had faces of anticipation. Some of those faces showed glee and excitement at what was about to happen.  Others looked on with trepidation and anxiety.

 A doorway opened up next to the panel and a gangplank slid out.  A bright yellowish light beamed from inside the craft and steam billowed out.  Frank looked at Matthew and Dawson. Frank smiled at them, “Shall we step through the looking glass.”

 The sound of a plate being sat down in front of him made him snap to attention.  He looked at the food and suddenly wasn’t so hungry at the moment. 

“Can you put it in a to-go box?” he asked.  The waitress looked annoyed for a moment, but Matthew handed her three twenties.  The waitress pocketed the tip and smiled, off to get his box. In a few minutes, Matthew was in his rental car and off.  He did not want to go back to the hotel just yet, so he decided to just drive around.

His cell phone rang.  He reached into his pocket and made a cursory glance at his phone.  He saw it marked private so he went back to concentrating on his driving and allowed the call to go to voice mail.  He felt he needed one of two things, to go back to the hotel and sleep; or to find a bar and get hammered.

He chose the latter.

Matthew sat in the corner of the bar downing his third scotch. He stared at the bottom of the glass half hoping for salvation, half hoping for answers. Unfortunately for him, the drinks brought neither. 

However, he decided he would try harder.  After the sixth, or was it the seventh, he was starting to forget his woes and decided to try and have just a little fun while he was out.  He stood up and made his way to the dance floor.  

Next, to the dance floor, he bumped into a short-haired brunette.  He looked at her, figured her to be in her early thirties. He smiled, “Sorry about that.”

She smiled back, “No problem.”  She held out her hand, he warmly clasped it, “The name’s Matthew.”

“Theresa.” She said with a smile.  “You from around here?”

 He shook his head, “Vacation.”

“Oh,” she replied, “So what do you do?”

His mind went blank.  What did he do?  Without thinking he replied in a monotone voice, almost as if he had rehearsed the line, “I am Matthew Andrews.  I am an Insurance adjuster, boring really.”

She looked at him strangely and slowly replied, “Okay.”

He beamed at her asking, “Wanna dance?”

She thought for a second, shrugged, “Why not.”

They walked on to the dance floor, he put his arms around her and they began swaying to the music.  He held her close, noting the sweet fragrance of her perfume. He looked at the metallic clip in her hair, mesmerized by the way it reflected the lights from the dance floor. 

The inside of the craft was just as metallic in coloring as the outside.  Matthew noticed that there were no sharp corners, everything was smooth. Their footsteps made a weird echo.  

Dawson looked down and said “Weird.”  His voice had a flat tone to it. Matthew looked puzzled, “Acoustic dampening?” he asked.  Frank nodded in agreement. Matthew motioned to a corridor off to the left and they headed in that direction.

Copyright 2014-2021 Kohl Media Solutions. All Rights Reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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