The Trinket Box

Bill Clifton jolted awake with one loud snore. He quickly sat up and wiped the drool off of his mouth, with the back of his hand. While surveying the plane, hoping nobody heard him, he slipped a piece of Nicorette into his mouth. His gaze paused on a beautiful young woman to his left. His eyes drift downward and he noticed that she was reading a version of the bible he had never seen before. The cover was completely black, scattered with gold specks- it almost looked like the night sky sprinkled with stars. In bold yellow letters it read: “The Bible: CLO Version”.

“Shukran,” Bill heard someone say breaking his attention from the book. Three rows ahead sat a man wearing a clean white thobe, pressed sharp at the collar, sleeves buttoned neatly at the wrist. Why would he wear that on a flight? the thought surfaced, uninvited.

The man bends over, and picks up a leather brief case from the floor. He buries his hand inside and removes something Bill can’t completely make out. It looks rectangular, and perhaps plastic. Is it a vape? No it can’t be, he doesn’t look like a smoker. Maybe a remote? A remote to what? The man places the item back in the brief case, feeling the outline of it with his hand one more time before returning the case back to the floor. Bill stares longer than he should.

I don’t like that. I need to know what’s in that brief case, Bill thought. He felt a tightening in his chest and adjusted in his seat. That thing is obviously important, why else would he check on it so often. Bill swallowed, the Nicorette burning faintly against his gums. He told himself he was being rational. That after everything that had happened in the world, noticing patterns wasn’t wrong…it was survival.

He looked to his left again, and noticed the girl had put away her strange bible. In its place sat a trinket box on the serving tray. It had the same cover- completely black, scattered with gold specks like a night sky. Weird, he thought surveying her more carefully. She wore no piercings. No necklaces, no rings, no jewelry at all. Her hair was cut into a short bob, exposing her ears, and even they were unpierced. I suppose other things can be kept in a box, but how strange for a woman of her age to have no piercings. Untouched.

His thoughts were interrupted, when the man stood and made his way to the bathroom. This is my shot; I need to see what’s in that bag. Bill unclipped his seat belt and stood. His legs were unsteady on the carpet. He stretched his arms out to steady himself. Eyes fixed on the man’s tanned neck as he walked toward the bathroom. The door clicked shut.

Bill “accidentally” fell forward, landing beside the empty seat. Before scrambling up, he reached for the cool brown leather, fingers searching the briefcase. He felt it. Hard. Not plastic, but metallic. He pressed down. A bright red light blinked on inside the bag.

Bill jerked upright. His body alternating between waves of hot and cold. I knew it. I wasn’t wrong. He wiped sweat from his forehead using the sleeve of his black button-up and glanced toward the bathroom door. Still closed. He flung himself into the man’s empty seat, accidentally bumping the elderly man’s elbow in the seat next to him.

“huh? What are you doing?” The old man said blinking sleep out of his eyes. Bill ignored him. He bent down and picked up the leather brief case. Raised his head one last time. Bathroom door still closed. He rotated the case so that that the front pouch faced him and eased it open. He exhaled shakily. As his hand moved toward the dark interior, the old man grabbed his wrist. “Son,” he said, alert, “What in God’s good name are you doing?” Bill panicked, but smothered it. He could play this off, the man was not out of the bathroom just yet. He put on his public face. A wide smile, and friendly eyes. “I’m so sorry to have woken you, sir. Mr.…” He hesitated. “Mr. Hassan is my boss. I just needed to look over some important documents before we landed.” Click the bathroom door opened. The man walked out, and adjusted his sleeves as he walked back toward his seat.

Bill tried to pull away, but the old man’s grip tightened. “Why don’t we ask Mr.… Hassan if that’s true?” The man approached calmly. As he reached them, Bill yanked his arm free and straightened. He slid the briefcase back to the floor in one smooth motion. “Mr. Hassan,” Bill said quickly, forcing a laugh. “So sorry about that.” Without waiting for a response he retreated back to his seat. Shit. By the time Bill had settled back into his seat a stewardess was already speaking to the man. Bill watched closely. The man bent, picked up the briefcase, and immediately checked the hard rectangular object inside. Relief crossed his face when he felt that it was still there.

The stewardess turned toward Bill. “Listen,” Bill said before she could speak, his voice low and urgent. “You need to check that bag. I know I sound like an asshole, but after everything that’s happened you can’t tell me we can’t be careful. It’s survival.” She stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly open. “I think he might have a—” “That’s enough, sir,” she cut in sharply. “If I let you finish that sentence; it would be a federal offense.” She checked his boarding pass. “Lucky for you, Mr. Clifton, Mr. Adams has decided not to pursue this further. You’ll remain seated for the next hour. If you need the restroom, ring the bell. This matter will be addressed once we land.” If we land, Bill thought. He wiped sweat from his eyes. “That’s the thing,” he said, almost whispering. “We might not land if you don’t listen to me.” The stewardess tilted her head, studying him. Bill fell silent. He knew better than to push.

Bill leaned back into his chair, sighing loudly. He spat his gum into the last sip of his cup of coffee, and slid another into his mouth. He closed his eyes, allowing the minor numbness to spread across his gums. He had to think. “You’re shaking,” Bill heard a soft gentle voice say. He opened his eyes. The woman was speaking to him. “No… I’m fine,” Bill said clearing his throat. “Your hands. They’re shaking.” Bill looked down at them. “I guess they are.” He turned to her. The trinket box rested on her tray. “Are you sure you want to speak to me? Didn’t you see what just happened?” “Yeah. You were wrong,” she said flatly. Bill sat up in his chair. The way she said it, so emotionless, it annoyed him. “Wrong? How would you know?” He let out a dry laugh.

“Because you looked in the wrong place.” “And where should I have looked?” She considered this, tapping her fingers lightly on the lid of the box. “Inside people,” she said after a pause. “It’s where things live.” Bill swallowed. His eyes drifted back to the box. “What… what’s in the box?” She smiled. Her face remembered the shape, but nothing behind it moved. “Something that eats what we give it.” His chest tightened. “That’s not funny.” “It wasn’t a joke. A moment passed. The plane hummed around them. The murmur of quiet conversations and the distant clink of the drinks cart could be heard.

“So if not him,” Bill said, gesturing toward Mr. Adams, “Then who?” She followed his gaze, then shook her head. “You said I was wrong. So you must know who it is?” Her eyes settled briefly on Mr. Adams, “He has a life already. I was made empty.” The word landed wrong. Made. What a strange choice. “You’re sick,” Bill said, sliding another piece of gum into his mouth. She turned her emotionless eyes back to him. “They kept me clean,” she said. “So nothing would cling.” Bill thought of her bare ears. Her bare hands. Her bare neck. Her fingers tightened around the box.

“What happens if you open it?” he asked. Her fingers tightened around the box, the skin whitening at the knuckles. “Then I serve my purpose. We go where we’re meant to go.” Bill’s mouth went dry. “We?” he said. “Where are we going?” His hand began inching upward toward the call button. “Look, lady, I never agreed to go anywhere except home.” His hand moved closer. She leaned closer toward him, “Neither did I.” The hum of the engines dropped away. The soft murmurs grew silent. The clink of the drinks cart grew distant. There were only her eyes and his breath. Bill lunged upward to press the button. At the exact same moment, she opened the box. Nothing happened. She looked at Mr. Adams, “You were so close”, then at Bill “Yet so far.”

The cabin lights flickered. Lightning split the sky. Rain hammered against the windows. The plane lurched violently from side to side. The light swelled. Too bright, too white. Until Bill could no longer see his outstretched hand. Bodiless screams surrounded him. He felt nothing. Then his stomach dropped, as if plunging down the first drop of a rollercoaster. With a violent jolt, the light began to dim. A screech tore through him, but not through his ears. The screech came from inside of his mind.

Outside, it was night. Rain still hammered against the windows. Mountains rose beneath gray clouds, but something was wrong. The mountains were red, entwined with thousands of tiny, black, veins. Below them lay an ocean glowing a bright luminescent green. Bill swore that the mountains were pulsing. Breathing. He turned. The woman sat calmly, her emotionless smile fixed in place. “Welcome home,” she said. “He will be with us shortly.”

Bill staggered to his feet and ran to the front of the plane. Outside the window, a massive shape shifted in the distance. He tried to focus his eyes on it, but with each attempt, they dropped to the floor as if repelled. The longer he looked, the more uncertain he became of what he was seeing. His thoughts slowed. Stretched. Rearranged themselves. And then he understood. He was in the presence of a creature so old that it did not hunt. It did not get angry. It did not hate. It consumed. The way gravity consumed. The way the sun existed. Without intention, without pause. “What did you do!?” he shouted.

In another world, a mother and her small child stood at the arrival gate. They held a hand drawn sign that read: Welcome Home Daddy. His wife bent down and whispered into his ear, “Wait till you see the surprise daddy got you.” Lucas Adams, loved the stars. His father had promised him a powerful laser pointer. One they could use to paint the constellations together. Lucas tugged on his mother’s arm. “Wow, daddy sure is taking his time,” he said.