Chapter 6 | Hermes on the Wing
To get to Canaveral Airport, you have to pass through the Tunnel of Perpetual Construction. One way in, one way out. Giant trucks and earth movers crawl along the route, some broken down and abandoned, to be dynamited out of the way. It’s the last undiscovered place on earth, a formerly foreboding place, circled by mountains and a ring of fire. Wild creatures seen nowhere else, like the rabid, three-headed dog, are reported to dwell here, though rarely, if ever seen.
Few people live here, it's mostly a transport hub for those with business in the other world, far beyond the confines of Sketchtown. That's changing now, with houses and skyscrapers and shops, even a gambling casino with decadent buffets, where you can eat for free and throw all your fortune away.
In the center of town, out of place next to the hardware store, is the picture show, where Persephone hands out tickets to moviegoers who'd rather see last year’s offerings than navigate the impossible Tunnel. She's seen each picture a thousand times and can read you back the lines. Sundays, his day off as chief baggage handler, Hermes commands the projector. Then there's Bruce, the manager, with his curly hair and old man glasses, seen mostly not being here. “You've got this,” he tells Persephone on his way to somewhere else. No one asks where he's going, nor does he say. He's gone mostly all the time.
“Who owns this joint?” asks Hermes. Persephone shrugs, “whoever it is, I don't care.” Which is technically a lie. Her uncle owns the picture show, along with the hardware store, several skyscrapers, and the bank. He runs the new car dealership and the place where you can buy a used Bel Air. He’s even got a hook in the casino, like the one on his right arm where the dynamite blew his hand off. Uncle’s got Persephone chained here, to the picture show and hardware store. He gives her money and promises so she won't want to leave. She's got no place to go.
On her days off, Persephone spends her time at Canaveral, watching the ongoing activities. This is where the show teams come to practice. You can meet the pilots and crews, sometimes even go up with them. Persephone’s been up a couple of times, though she admits to being scared. “My brother almost died in his Blackhawk.”
Hermes is rehearsing his speech as he loads the last of the bags onto the Carthage flight. “There's not a moment I don't think of you.” Ugh. Too true. She'll run. “Everywhere I go, you're with me.” The bags, Hermes, the bags! “Persephone, here’s the thing…” The thing, not the thing! Load the damn luggage, Hermes. Frozen in time for a moment, he suddenly realizes he's supposed to be doing something. He snaps to and gets back to work. “I lost all my senses the day we met.” Also true.
I think of you from time to time. Like when I wake up in the morning, go to sleep at night. If I'm eating a sandwich, or driving my car. When I'm happy. Or sad. Waiting for you to come around.
Hermes pitches the final piece of the last batch of luggage, a faded pink steamer from a bygone era. It's covered with stickers from all over the world: Brazil. India. Cameroon. A sparkly metal badge from Shangri-La. It stands out from all the boring bags headed to Carthage.
As he turns to leave, he stops to watch Thunderbird 7 coming in, so loud it could break the sky. The ground crew is in position, every movement precise from thousands of hours of practice. There's a script for every possibility, including the possibility of going off script.
Hermes climbs aboard the luggage cart to head back in for the next flight. He rips up the speech in his head, not wanting to embarrass himself. “I'll just wait till the moment’s right.”
Persephone's passing out tickets to the four o’clock matinee. She's thinking about something Hermes said the last time they were together, about the time the doorknob broke. No way to get out, other than going back in time. “Impossible!” she cried, while handing him a bone. “Try this, it’s really good.”
“I left out one small detail,” he explained while chewing. “There's a staircase on the other side of the room. Nobody ever goes that way, and nobody knows it's there.” He smiled and took her hand. “Take a look around. There's always another way.”
Persephone turns out the last ticket to the four o’clock and writes up her summary of the day. A practically sold out run. Uncle will be happy. They're almost at goal for the week. That means steak and lobster and a ride out to the volcanos, all her favorite things. “If only,” she begins to say out loud. Hermes has wings, and his feet barely touch the ground. She stops, mid thought, and puts down her pad. Then she slowly walks out of the booth.
