Free Fiction, Writing

The Samoa Incident – Chapter 1

The Samoa Incident is something I’m writing for fun. I’m going to publish it on my blog a chapter at a time.

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The plane touched down at Faleolo International Airport. A broadcast from the cockpit came over the speakers as the pilot confirmed the smooth landing.

Sean sat on a couch, two rows from the last. The reek of the toilets was strong, his flight had not been pleasant because of this.

“Enjoy your stay in Samoa,” the pilot said and the broadcast ended.

Samoa.

Sean was not entirely sure why he had chosen to come here. But Samoa was far from home and that suited him just fine.

The plane rounded the runway and at last came to a stop. Sean unbuckled his seatbelt and stood. He gathered his bag from the overhead stowage bin and waited.

It had been a full flight. As far as Sean could tell, not a seat had been empty. Now passengers were in the aisle waiting for the moment they could get off the plane. Sean guessed that more than a few people were travel weary and cranky.

The line started to move. Sean walked carefully, carrying his bag in front of him. He hated planes, because of how tight they were. There was barely enough room to move. No wonder terrorists saw airplanes as worthy targets. Passengers were grounded to their seats and would not be able to do much in a crisis.

He reached the end of the aisle, had a brief look into the cockpit and then exited the plane.

The heat consumed him as he walked down the steps to the pavement. The moment he was on solid ground again was the moment he felt relief.

It was dawn, the sun still a thin yellow line to the east. People back home would be finishing their lunch hours and going back to work. Alicia was probably lodging in the living room of the house she and her sister shared, watching TV and wondering when he was going to call.

He hadn’t told her he was leaving. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone for that matter, and he wasn’t sure when he would. He wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, especially Alicia, and he didn’t want to think about her.

He turned away from the rising sun as if turning his back on home.

Sean walked across the tarmac toward the huge building. Every window was alight and he could see various people inside, many looking out on the aircraft he had just arrived in. A sign near the entrance glowed white, red and blue.

 

Talofa & Welcome

Samoa

Arrivals

 

Sean pushed through the door and got into one of the lines of people waiting to have their passports stamped by the immigration officer.

Sean recognized some of the people from the plane. There was the big guy who had sat a few rolls in front of Sean. The guy had been talking a lot on the plane, but now he was quiet.

The elderly couple who had been in front of him on the plane just had their passports stamped and were moving off, each towing a suitcase on wheels.

The line shortened.

The three young women in front of Sean were a group that had sat across the aisle from him on the plane. They put their passports and other identification on the counter together and the immigration officer looked over each quickly and stamped them in order. The passports were handed back and the women moved on.

Sean stepped up to the counter and handed over his passport and driver’s license. He was lucky he remembered to bring the passport at all. He had left home in a hurry, just threw some things into a bag and hit the road. He had no idea where he was going, but somehow ended up at Bishop International Airport in Flint and booked a flight out of state.

That flight had taken him to Chicago and he still didn’t know where he was going.

The immigration officer stamped Sean’s passport and handed it back over the counter with his driver’s license.

“Have a nice time,” she said and smiled.

Sean nodded politely and stuffed his passport and license into his bag.

He left the immigration area. Four men in Aloha shirts stood on a platform playing acoustic guitars. Two of the women who had been in front of him in the immigration line were collecting their bags from the baggage claim. Both were in their early to mid twenties. The third member of their group was not there, but she had been at least a few years younger than her two friends.

As Sean walked by, one of the women said something to the other in a language he didn’t recognize. When they started looking around, Sean understood that they had realized the third member of their group was not with them.

Sean made a quick scan of the airport, but the youngest of the trio was nowhere in sight. Perhaps she stepped into the bathroom and hadn’t taken the time to inform her friends because of a sudden kick of leftover air sickness. He remembered the girl had said very little on the plane, while her friends had talked constantly. If they spoke English, though, they had not uttered a word of it while in his presence.

Sean wanted to suggest the two women check the bathroom, but he didn’t want to deal with an awkward moment if it turned out they couldn’t understand him. He moved on. If their friend didn’t show up soon, he was sure they would check around and find her.

He walked into the middle of the airport and stopped. The exit was in front of him, but he didn’t know where he was going from there. There would be taxis and buses, he was sure. But he hadn’t made reservations anywhere and hence had no destined place to be. What would he tell a taxi driver?

Then a sign for Discovery Rentals caught his eye.

Forty-five minutes later, Sean walked out of the airport with a temporary Samoa driver’s license and a rental agreement in his pocket. The  Hyundai Tucson was already parked at the curb and a Discovery Rental employee climbed out.

“Have fun,” the man said.

“Thanks,” Sean said. He slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door. Relieved that the man had let the air conditioner run, Sean dropped the gear lever to Drive.

He had driven cars with the steering wheel on the right side many times before, but he still felt awkward as he drove through the parking lot.

He turned left onto the road. Traffic was almost nonexistent as he drove east toward Apia.

Guns

Slinged

I got a sling on my break-action .20 gauge shotgun. The swivels are meant for bolt-action rifles, but they work fine on shotguns like this.

I was going to put a sling on the Mossberg 500 too, but for pump and semi-automatic shotguns it’s a little different. Although the swivels I bought say on the package that they fit most pump and semi-auto shotguns, the part that you screw on the end of the tube is way too small for a .12 gauge. It doesn’t say anywhere on the package what caliber it’s for, but looks like it would be the right fit for a .410. So now I gotta get a .410 pump or semi-auto shotgun.

The other day, my dad and I stopped by the hardware store in Davison because my dad needed some pipes. The owner, Dave, was my FFL dealer. Dave was working the register the other day. He told us he’s not selling guns anymore and that he recently sold the hardware store. He’s still there for the time being, but he’ll be moving out soon.

I’m disappointed about that. I preferred to buy from Dave because he knew my dad and he’d gotten to know me. I don’t like the idea of buying guns from FFL dealers who don’t know me. Years ago, when I went to buy a shotgun, the dealer mistook my cerebral palsy for drunkenness and was asking why I was weaving from side to side. He also couldn’t understand why I had trouble reading the form or hearing him. It was explained to him, but he wasn’t convinced. He believed I was drunk or on drugs. It was pretty humiliating.

With Dave, it was easy and relaxing. He was understanding about my disabilities.

So, guess I have to find another FFL dealer.

Guns

Uncle Mike’s IWB Holsters

Finally. An Uncle Mike’s size-15 IWB. I’ve been trying to find one for a while now. Every time I wanted to buy one, all the right hand ones were sold out and I’m not left handed.

I’ve had the size-1 for my .380 for a couple years. I really like how thin it is. It’s not much thicker than a shirt and it’s comfortable in my waistband. I wanted a size-15 for my 9mm because all the other IWBs I’ve tried were stiff and they would pull my waistband too tightly around my guts.

A concern people have about carrying larger pistols in thin holsters like these is the holster will not be strong enough to hold the pistol. That might be true if you’re carrying outside the waistband in a thin holster. But these holsters go inside the waistband. They’re held between your body and pants, and they’re clipped to the waistband. They’re not going to fall.

I’m telling you, with this holster I’m very comfortable carrying my 9mm in my waistband. It doesn’t feel much different than a tucked in shirt. I knew this was the holster I needed and I was right.

If you’re interested in Uncle Mike’s IWB holsters, first go to unclemikes.com and use their Holster Finder. From there, you can look up hundreds of pistol makes and models and the site will tell you which size holster is right for your pistol.

Baseball, Misc, MLB, Sports

Rain

I think it rained enough today. It started in New York City, at Yankee Stadium. I believe it was the bottom of the 7th, the score was DET 2 – NYY 0, when the sky dumped gallons of water on the field. I don’t think they were expecting that. The downpour was heavy before they started rolling out the tarp.

Eventually I turned the TV off, but I just checked tigers.com. Looks like the Tigers were declared the winners.

Just a little while ago we had a long rain and thunderstorm here. Lightning struck too close a few times and the thunder made me jump.

Baseball, MLB, Sports

That Was Close

The Tigers still aren’t having a great season, but they did beat the Yankees today. They almost blew it in the bottom of the 9th, but then there was a fly-out. 4-3.

They’re in fourth place. Things probably aren’t going to get much better than that. Even so, I always have the game on. I’ll just take the wins when there are wins.

I think a lot of the star players are nearing MLB retirement age and they’re not playing as well as they used to. That’s just my thought.

Misc

The First of a New Month

Okay, it’s midnight. August has begun. Summer will be over before I know it. The older I get, the faster time flies. I was just thirty years old last year. Next year I’ll be fifty.

I haven’t been blogging much lately. I’ve been feeling self-conscious, but I want to try putting those feelings aside. I’d like to get back to blogging on a daily basis.

My brother was over for a few days. Last night we were up in the attic talking until 3 in the morning. One of the things we talked about is that we’re getting old.

When I turned forty in March, it was like I’d been slapped in the face. I’m not young anymore. Forty years have already passed. I know I’m not really old either, but I feel like I’m at a halfway point. My life might or might not last much longer than this. I might live to my eighties or nineties, or I might live to my fifties or sixties.

One thing is for sure. I already covered about half of my life. I’m not really depressed about it. It’s just an awareness that I’m feeling.

I want to enjoy the things that I’m passionate about, in whatever way I can, to the best of my ability, while I still have time.

Misc

Darnell Family Reunion 2017

We even had a cake, of which I forgot to have a piece of.

So, yeah, I spent the day at Mom and Dad’s, where we had the reunion for my dad’s half of the family. I pretty much just ate and drank beer. I didn’t talk much, but that’s not unusual for me.

Dad and Ron grilled hotdogs and hamburgers. We had a bit of a smoke storm in there.

 

Some fished, others sat around.

Mom set her karaoke stuff up on the balcony. The music could be heard across the yard.

When it got dark everyone sat around the back deck. It was decent weather. A bit warm, but not terribly. Fireflies were out.

 

Reviews, Series

Six Feet Under

I made it to the end of Six Feet Under the other night. There are five seasons, sold separately on Amazon Video. I used to watch Six Feet Under on HBO. It’s a show I got into during my first year of living on my own. That was 2001, the year I moved out of my mom and dad’s house and into the apartment in town. I remember being in a chat thing online where Freddy Rodriguez was answering questions from fans. I had a question for him, but the questions were being fed to him by a moderator. My question must have been deemed not-interesting-enough because it never appeared.

I loved Six Feet Under, but I didn’t make it to the end of the series. I was staying at a girlfriend’s house so much that I decided to cancel my cable service. When I got cable back on, I didn’t feel like adding HBO or any of those extra channels. So, Season 3 was the last season I had seen of Six Feet Under.

Until now.

I’m going to put a spoiler alert here. I’m not one who worries about spoilers for books, movies or shows that I plan to read or watch. I don’t care if I see spoilers or not, I’ll still read or watch it and I’ll probably enjoy it. But some people don’t like spoilers. So, below this paragraph, there are spoilers.

Six Feet Under is a powerful show, and heartbreaking in places. Right at the beginning of the first episode, Nathaniel Fisher is killed in a car accident. His family never quite gets over their loss. Nathaniel was the owner of Fisher & Sons, a funeral home. Now the business is left to his sons, Nate and David.

The show has a lot to do with death, loss and grief. There’s a new death in every episode, usually at the start. Some of those deaths got to me, like the one where the newborn baby died in his crib.

Keith is my hero, especially in the first couple seasons. Keith is a cop and David’s boyfriend. I really liked how Keith was there for Claire after Gabriel took a shot at someone while riding in her car. Nate was being an asshole to Claire, but Keith stuck up for her. Keith explained to Nate that the reason Claire still cares about Gabriel is “because she loves him.” I know it’s hard for the willfully ignorant to understand, but sometimes it really is that simple.

Keith tells Claire that she has to go to the police department and talk to the detectives about what happened. Claire asks Keith if he’ll be there with her, because she doesn’t want to deal with the detectives alone. Keith says he’ll be there.

Life for the Fishers is a struggle. Ruth goes through a series of boyfriends and then marries George. But after they’re married, Ruth finds out that life with George isn’t exactly the picnic she thought it would be.

Claire is an artist, but she feels that she’s not getting anywhere and she’s not sure what to do with her life. Art school isn’t working out for her and she quits  While working in an office building, she meets Ted, a young lawyer, and they hit it off.

David is trying to keep the business afloat while butting heads with Nate and Rico. His relationship with Keith has its ups and downs. Eventually David and Keith adopt Anthony and Durrell.

I knew Nate was going to die at some point. I had thought it would be in Season 4, but he made it most of the way through Season 5, and then AVM struck again. They thought he was going to recover. He was awake and talking, but then he died, unexpectedly. David was with him.

At the end of the last episode, Claire is leaving for New York where she hopes to pursue an art career. Before she drives off, she inserts the CD Ted gave her, that he made her promise not to listen to until she was leaving. The first song on Ted’s Deeply Unhip Mix is Breathe Me, by Sia. The song plays slow and soft at first, and then “Ouch.”