Page 45 of All the way home

Zach, still wincing at the price on the headphones—he’d given in and checked, then wished he hadn’t—has to work to catch up with what he’s talking about. “Sorry—the Purge?”

Wordlessly, Kieran gestures out at the terminal.

He’s right. It’s carnage. Only a few feet away, a toddler collapses on the floor, wailing and red-faced, going limp every time their father tries to pick them up. A pair of siblings scuffle over a Paw Patrol backpack, the older of the two winning by providing a sharp knock to his sister’s skull.

The couple from the gift shop march past Zach’s elbow as the woman shouts, “It is over, Gil. You’d better find someone else to parade around in front of your family!”

“Yeesh.” Zach winces.

He can’t even hear the announcements over the surge of travelers, thousands of voices crushed together into a constant, cacophonous booming.

“Is there usually a Purge involved at airports?”

“No.” Kieran cranes his neck to see over a family stampeding past them in matching holiday sweaters. “Normally, I don’t travel on the busiest travel day of the year. God, Rena’s going to be insufferable. She told me it was a bad idea to fly today.”

“Why’d she agree to it, then?”

A flicker like a dancing flame flashes across his face, dismay there one moment, gone the next. When he speaks, his voice is light. “I asked.”

There’s a story there, Zach knows, but he also knows better than to press. The thought of Rena makes his stomach pinch uncomfortably—he knows exactly what happens when you look up ‘Zach Loren Owen Sound,’ and it’s nothing alarming, but still. He can’t help wondering if it’s changed since he last looked.

“Whoa.” Kieran frowns, and then he’s off, making a beeline for something out of Zach’s line of sight.

There are too many people to keep track of, moving in every direction. Zach stumbles after Kieran, narrowly avoiding a baggage cart to the ankles as an old man stomps through the terminal, obstacles be damned.

Moments later, Zach sees what caught Kieran’s attention: an old woman is standing with her hand on her cane, shouting at an employee.

It speaks to the volume in the terminal that Zach hadn’t been able to hear her. If the word irate found a human to live in, this woman would be it. She jabs her index finger into the girl’s shoulder, nearly spitting in her face as she hollers about “DISRESPECT LIKE I’VE NEVER SEEN!” and “THE GALL OF YOU!”

The girl isn’t even a real airport employee, either, dressed in all black and clutching a stack of menus to her chest, with a Chili’s name tag reading Billie - she/her. She must be in her twenties, but between her elfin features and the way her eyes have gone bright and glassy, she seems much younger. Her short brown hair falls into her eyes and she tucks it behind her ear nervously. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you’ve had—”

“How dare you interrupt me!” the woman shrieks, apparently oblivious to the reality that she has not, in fact, been interrupted.

“Hey.” Kieran touches a hand to her shoulder. “Hey, all right.”

The woman swings around with her arm raised as though to hit him.

Instinctively, Zach takes a step back, but Kieran doesn’t even flinch.

Up close, it’s obvious that the woman has been drinking—heavily, if her bloodshot eyes and lack of balance are anything to go by. She sways and grips Kieran’s arm, squinting up at him as though trying to determine if they’ve ever met.

“Crazy weather, eh?” Keeping his voice smooth, Kieran turns her by the shoulder. “What seems to be the problem?”

Her voice quivers with indignation. “This young man won’t let me back in!”

Zach covers his mouth to hide his amusement as confusion and then resigned irritation ripples across Billie’s face.

Gently, Kieran asks, “What’s your name?”

“Lorraine.” Eyeing Kieran suspiciously, the woman sways again, gaze wavering in and out of focus.

Over her head, Kieran gives Billie a subtle nod. She mouths a thank you and hightails it back into the restaurant.

“Who are you?” Lorraine asks him, every inch of her ramping up to belligerent hostility.

Lingering behind, Zach can’t help wondering what Kieran’s game is, and how he’s planning to go about winning.

“Nice to meet you, Lorraine.” Kieran keeps his voice at that same easy, gentle timbre. “My name is Kieran. Where are you going today?”