Flight, then Fright

[WP] Your plane from Orlando to London has just landed and as it taxies in it's surrounded by police and press. You disembark and a police constable tells you. "It's 2036, your plane went missing 15 years ago."

*****

January 16, 2021.

Money made the world go round. Money answered all things. Money made you an enemy of the common man, who could not afford the things you could and live the life you lived. Money brought connections and opportunities to more money and other associated gifts like power and influence. I didn't consider money to be a bad thing or the toot of any evil as some misguided, misinformed bunch loved to say.

Everything in this world, or at least most things, we're good, so long as one kept being the master of them. The moment you let an indulgence become an addiction, then you had succumbed to the evil part of it. The thing you placed as a top priority determined the actions you took in the world, and the degree to which you loved that thing determined the extent you would go or lack of perhaps.

I wasn't a slave of money, which explained why I was so confident and comfortable when talking about these things. I had stopped chasing money, and instead set up a system that allowed money to flow in. That was why I could afford a private jet and a penthouse, and watch the average and the poor, and the fake organizations and NGOs who claimed to be in support of equity, throw stones at me. Stones that would never reach.

It was on that fateful January 16th that I hopped on my private jet and decided to go to London for an early holiday. Life in Orlando had been uneventful for a few weeks, and keen on escape, I just decided an impromptu holiday would be in order.

We took off, just me and my trusty pilot, and I slept off soon after we were airborne. One of the perks of having money was spending it in a manner that suited me best, anyhow I liked. Which was why I threw a massive pool party the previous night. I was not a drinker - zero alcohol, but I did stay awake all night, which led to extreme exhaustion.

My body clock was well trained, and I had disciplined myself while in the air so that I could wake exactly when the plane was landing. As soon as the tires hit the landing strip, I woke up, yawning heavily. I felt well-rested - almost too well-rested - and I had to crack a few joints to get myself back in shape.

There was an unusual amount of activity outside, which I noticed when I peered out of the tiny square window. I was used to the paparazzi following me around, usually, after I'd made some controversial statement, but this time, it was different. I was confused because I hadn't said anything serious to reporters recently, or maybe something crazy happened at the party which I was not aware of.

Buttoning my suit as I came down the plane, I thought that whatever happened must have been not just crazy, but bordering on dangerous, considering the fact that policemen and Secret Service agents were there.

As soon as I reached the ground, reporters attacked me with a barrage of questions, generating so much noise that I was unable to hear even a single question, Then the police managed to fend them off, pulling me towards the Secret Service agents who simply opened the backseat of their Black Rolls Royce.

"Edgar Johnson?"

"The one and only."

"Get in."

I looked at them quizzically. Money - and I know I'm beginning to talk about it a bit too much - was the reason why I didn't follow those orders immediately, or shiver and shake at the tone. I was a man with a considerable amount of power and influence.

"Why should I? In fact, ignore that question. Who are you and what could you possibly want? What's the big idea with the paparazzi and the cameras and the police and you guys?"

The men looked at me like I'd insulted them, and their leader, the man who asked me to get in the car, took off his dark shades and stared at me with a severe, piercing gaze. "Do you think this is a joke>? Do you even 8nderstaqnd the weight and significance of-"

"Taking a plane to London> From Orlando? Do I understand the significance of that? Maybe not, since I do it from time to time. The hell is your problem with that?"

It was then that a look of realization came upon their faces as they realized something I did not understand.

"So, you are not aware?"

"Of...?"

"The fact that you've been missing for 15 years now, having disappeared on this day fifteen years ago?"

It was then I looked around at the planes, the cars, the clothes, the weapons - and realized that something was off. Had I become part of a movie without my knowledge?

"I'm sorry, I must have heard wrong, what year did you say this was?"

"This is the 16th of January, 2036. You've been flying for 15 years, and your plane is just landing now. We were all shocked when the radar picked up your signal and transmitted it to the control towers."

Nothing the man said registered as I felt my knees go weak and everything went dark.

*****

TO BE CONTINUED.