Under Control
by Christian Schwieter

The air was filled with hectic chatters as he entered through the ponderous glass door. His eyes frantically scanned the huge vastness of this place. People from all sides rushed around, pulling there heavy black suitcases behind them. Sounds of small wheels scratching over the polished floor echoed through the large hall.

He felt the skeptical looks on him as people from every corner eyed me suspiciously. Quickly, he shouldered his beige linen bag and made his way through the crowd towards the booking office.

The woman behind the counter looked up from her screen as he approached. "One way ticket to London, please." "At what time do you wish to departure, sir?" She gave him an intense glare that made him shiver. "As soon as possible.", he replied sharply. Her fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard. 

"The next flight goes at 4.15pm.", she took a quick glance at the clock on the wall besides her. "That's in about 2 hours from now, would that be okay with you?"

"I haven't really got a choice, have I?" He was terrified by the harsh tone of his own words,  however, it wasn't really surprising in the situation he was in."But that's alright, I'll just wait here.", he instantly corrected himself. While the lady asked for his contact details he reassured himself that no one was near. At the mention of his name she had to lean closer to understand his mumbled words as he lowered his voice drastically. After all her questions were answered she gave him a short nod of acknowledgement, laid the ticket on the counter and he hurried towards the opposite site where the long, black leather benches were lined up.

Half way there, he heard a voice haling for him.

"Sir!" Abruptly, he came to a stop. "Sir, your ticket." He felt his heart pounding and blood rushing to his cheeks. Within a moment he turned, rushed back to the counter, and grabbed the ticket from the desk. 

After the security check of him and his luggage, which didn't really take that long, he was finally at the benches,  sat down and placed the beige bag in his lap. Beads of sweat shimmered on his forehead as he looked down to the ground. Hiding his head underneath his hands, he let out a deep breath. 

There were a few children playing behind him, he could hear them giggling and screaming as their high-pitched voices broke out in laughter. The sounds of it were piercing through his ear, making his mind race in dread of what lay ahead.

The laughters brought back painful memories of his own children playing in the backyard. 

He could see them swinging back and forth on the wooden plank he had cut out and attached to a thick branch. 

He had always wanted to cut down the old oak tree, ever since it had almost reached into their bedroom during a heavy storm, but it were memories like these that told him it had been a good idea to let it be.

It had been a perfectly blue sky that day, the sun was high up and made the flowers blossom vividly everywhere. 

He shook his head and stretched out his legs as he awoke from the day dream. Still dizzy, he let his eyes scan the surrounding idly. There was a lady sitting a few seats to the right of him now. The clothing she wore caught his attention. It was a light summer dress, with colourful blossom ornaments woven into the thin fabric. 

The dress reminded him back to the day in the garden. There was a lady too, in that memory. He saw her right in front of him, the smooth features of her flawless face, the grace and kindness in her penetrating deep blue eyes, framed by long brunette hair with light natural highlights. 

Besides all the beauty though, the thing he remembered the most from that day was the white cherry blossom in her hair completing her sheer appearance. 

Their littlest one, Lilly, had explored the area that day and found the small cherry tree a few blocks farther. It was in the middle of summer, nevertheless some blossoms were still left on the short twigs. She came back from her journey through the neighbourhood with red cherry juice covered all over her face.

He smiled at the irony of all this. How he'd forget their wedding day every year again but retain memories like these. That's all what it was now, a fainted memory. But there was something else, too. 

The bright scene in the backyard was replaced by dark images blurring into his vision now. He remembered that night, they had slept deeply, his wife and him, cuddled close together, as they woke from the sound coming from the basement. He could hear the glass cracking, bursting into hundreds of small pieces as it fell to the hard ground. Sitting up straight in the bed, he told his wife to stay in the bedroom, while he slipped out of the bed and took gentle steps towards the door.

From the stairways he could see that their oldest one, Jacob, had risen from his bed and the light passed through the small gap of the half-opened door. Quickly, he made his way over to Jacob's room and told him to stay where he was. The lights went off and he was left in the pale moonlight coming through the windows.

Back at the stairs, he saw the luminous circles of torchlights dancing at the walls one floor underneath him. But he had the weird feeling they weren't here to steal anything, but instead opened every door of the first floor in a rush and illuminated the rooms with their torchlights as in search of something.

His heart pounded so hard he was afraid the men downstairs would here hear it. 

"Flight 157 to London, boarding has started, passengers please check-in.", the voice from the speakers made him flinch. In a hurry, he shouldered his linen bag once more and rushed down the long hall. 

'Terminal C, Gate 4'. The sound of it made him shiver. The two ladies at the check-in counter gave him their brightest smile, but he wasn't in the mood to return it. His feet made a hollow sound with every step and the descending floor of the long boarding bridge made him loose his balance at times. Monotonously, he continued his way farther down, not even noticing the welcoming gestures of the stewardess awaiting him at the entrance of the plane. He sat down on the worn out seats, trying to make himself comfortable as he rested his head again the hard plastic facing of the airplane. Feeling the coolness of the window against his cheeks, he shut his eyes and was lost in thoughts again.

When he thought of it now, it all felt surreal. The image of that night blurred back into his vision. 

Swiftly, he had taken a few steps to the site, towards the phone hanging at the wall. His knees felt like they could give in every second as his trembling fingers reached out for the phone. Once more, he took a short glance back to the stairways, where the men had been searching through the rooms. 

Four. There had been four light circles from the torchlights at the wall before. But now he could only see one flickering through the corridors.

"They are probably just searching through the cellar.", he had said to himself that moment, as he tried to control his rising anxiety.

He had started dialling the three digit number already as suddenly, the torchlight moved higher up the wall and jumped up and down in rhythmical intervals and he noticed the quiet footsteps from downstairs coming closer and closer. 

Whoever the person they belonged to was, he wasn't trying to hide his presence any longer.

"Oh good, you are awake.", the raspy voice came in from behind. "Michael, right?"

He let the handset of the phone slide out of his palm as a wave of shock rushed through his body. The phone hit the ground hard and immediately broke into pieces at impact.

"Well, that makes things easier.", the cynical reply came, as the man behind him let out a short, dark chuckle. 

Still shaking, he looked at his hand where, a moment ago, the phone had been, and turned around to see where the voice had come from. 

The man showed a wide smile of satisfaction as he looked into the pale face of his opposite. Michael's eyes showed him that his appearance had been successful. His coming had the exact impact he had aimed for. 

"Who are you?", Michael only managed a quiet whisper as he tried to get his voice past the lump in his throat.

"Finally!", the man replied in fake relief. "I thought you'd never ask me. Anyways, that's of none importance right now, you should rather be concerned about why I'm here.", he said amused, only this time he really seemed to enjoy this. His words had a hint of pride to them that gave Michael the chills.

"There is a thing I want you to do for me, nothing difficult, just a small favour." By the tone of his voice Michael could tell it wasn't all that easy.

"There is a small linen bag down there." The man pointed to where he had come from. "Take it and bring it to London by tomorrow, I don't care how you do it, only cause no attention, and with no attention I also mean no police or anything like that, I believe it wouldn't do any good to your family. Do as I told you and you can continue living your picture-perfect life. Otherwise, well, lets just say you wouldn't really like what lay ahead in case I should not be satisfied."

There was a loud scream as Michael heard a door slam open with a loud impact.

His panicked as he struggled to find the source of the sound. There were hectically moving shadows in the corridor rushing to the front door as they sneaked out into the night.

"Damn, I told them to not make any sounds." The man said coolly. "Anyways, that should encourage you to follow my instructions." The smug smile came back to his lips. "I think my men are waiting for me. Take care Michael." Somehow he knew that these last three words were not meant as a friendly gesture. They were a warning. 

Within a moment the last dark figure had left the room and Michael was left in the dark.

As in disbelieve, he ran through the whole house, searched in every little corner and screamed their names until also his voice left him. He cried all night like he had never cried before.

"Everything as you wish, sir?", the voice of the stewardess made him flinch.

"Yes, everything's fine, thanks", he managed, even though he knew that was the biggest lie he had ever spoken out.