Sliding Doors

PG 13

Lady Elizabeth Turner sighed deeply after another sip of vodka had restored her nerves. While she didn't normally imbibe this was an emergency. Still, there had been no sleeping for her as the Virgin Atlantic flight descended into the California night sky. Touchdown would mark her 22nd hour without closing her eyes. The attendants murmured a regretful "sorry" as they whisked away her glass and before she knew it, the plane touched down with the brakes in full mode.

This was the part she hated the most, as she could almost feel the plane trying to shudder apart while she felt that old, creeping horror. Especially after recent revelations about the aging of the entire airline industries' fleet, Sir Richard Branson (off the record, of course, love) had to repeatedly assure her of his planes' safety.

But as she explained to him, she wasn't afraid of actually crashing (although that was a worry) but of a childhood fear of a fiery death.

Still, her therapist agreed that the trip was worthwhile, if nothing else, to help her face that irrational terror, and of course, her editor Trevor Peirce once again did his chin up speech. She glanced at the diamond, still unsure that she should have accepted it.

Customs took little time and by then, she should have been ready to catch some sleep but an insistent curiosity about her birthplace, unseen for over 20 years, kept her awake. The moon was bright and so she instructed the driver to head over towards her host, the mysterious Josef Kostan.