Chapter 2

The last thing that Vik wanted to be was the smelly Indian guy on the plane that would evoke stares from the sea of people that had previously boarded the plane and were already waiting, not so patiently, in their seats for departure. In a few moments, however, that’s exactly what Vik was going to be, the smelly Indian guy, who was also the last to get on the plane.

Vik normally isn’t that guy though. He’s usually one of the people who just blend into the background with all the other noise of the airport. He’s the guy who sits at the gate, no less than an hour and a half before departure, sipping his overpriced airport Starbucks with headphones on listening to his collection of Wilco albums and possibly even buried in the latest Bloomberg Weekly that was delivered to his iPad.

This trip for Vikrham Chandanna was definitely not the norm.

“Excuse me,” Vik barely eeked out to the gate guards that were clearly too busy in their own conversation to even notice the guy about ready to pass out in front of them. “Excuse me…”

Obviously annoyed, one of them finally turned to the Indian man and said loud and slow, no doubt thinking that he was not an American, “What can we help you with sir?”

Normally Vik would respond in a heavy Indian accent to such stupidity, but he couldn’t muster the strength.

“My name’s Vikrham Chandanna, and I’m on this next flight to O’Hare, but I’m not feeling so hot right now. I’m going to be in the bathroom right around the corner here. Could you please come get me when the plane is boarding?” God he felt like shit.

He felt fine this morning when he woke up. The pot of coffee went on before he joined the dog out into the backyard for his morning ritual. Vik had to go out with him, rain or shine, because if he didn’t actually go in the back with him, Bailey would just turn around at the sliding glass door and stare back into the house. What good is having a backyard if the dog wouldn’t go out and play? Vik could never figure that out.

After a quick shower, Vik double checked his bag that he pre-packed last night for his quarterly trip to his home office in Chicago. He always forgot something, and this time it was his reversible belt. He snatched it out of the closet, rolled it into a coil, and tucked it in between his socks and underwear. Zipped up and placed by the entrance to the garage, the Tumi bag waited for Vik to finish his breakfast.

A bagel went into the toaster oven set to 4, and he poured his coffee into one of the many odds and ends coffee mugs that he kept in his cupboards. This time it was a “World’s Best Employee” mug that his boss gave to all the consultants. Vik still couldn’t tell if his boss was being a dick about all of them getting to work remotely fulltime or not.

While the coffee cooled a bit, Vik buttered up the bagel and brushed the crumbs to the floor for Bailey to hoover up. The first bite was always the best.

Still with a little bagel left in his mouth, Vik took his first sip of coffee and promptly spit the entire contents of his mouth out onto the countertop which dribbled onto the floor; Bailey thoroughly enjoyed his morning snack today. The coffee wasn’t even all that hot, it just tasted like shit. It was hands down the vilest thing that he ever had tasted.

“What the hell?”

Vik took another sip that resulted in almost the same outcome. At least he hit the sink with the coffee spray this time.

He thought maybe the coffee was bad, but couldn’t think of anything that would cause this to happen. He hadn’t paid much attention when he made the coffee maybe that was it. When he opened the container, it looked and smelled like coffee.

Vik double checked the tap water, and that was fine too. But he probably would have noticed the water tasting bad when he was in the shower because usually he took water into his mouth at some point.

With no time to really diagnose the issue with the coffee, Vik left the check for Wendy his pet sitter on the counter, gave Bailey his treat and behind the ear scratch, grabbed his bag and headed off to the airport.

At about the halfway point, somewhere on the Bay Bridge, Vik started sweating. As soon as he started to feel a little warm, he took his hoodie off and cracked the window to let the cool Bay breeze in through the window. It wasn’t helping.

By the time Vik got to the San Francisco airport, his underarms where thoroughly wet and sweat from the middle of his back was starting to show through his shirt. A few beads had formed unnoticed on his forehead and as he leaned into the trunk to get his bag they dripped down into his eyes. “Damn that stings…”

He got the extra once-over from the TSA probably because he was a “nervous looking Arab.” But in reality, he was just a normal 34 year old guy who was growing weaker by the minute. At least the sweating stopped.

Not getting his coffee was surely was the source of his throbbing headache. Vik had a steady three cup a day habit that had gone on as long as he had been a consultant. He could already smell that sour stale sweat smell as he stood in line at Peet’s Coffee. If he could smell it, no doubt that the people before and after him could smell it too.

The first pull of his medium black coffee sent it and the contents of his stomach onto the floor nearly hitting the lady that pushed the double wide stroller. He excused himself, threw away the coffee and headed to the gate albeit at a slower pace.

After a not so subtle sigh, and equally visible move away from the desk, the gate guard said, “Yeah, we’ll come and git ya, but we ain’t holdin’ the plane for you.”

Vik made it to the Men’s room but not before nearly forgetting his carryon bag. Each step was getting harder and harder to take and his lightweight canvas messenger bag felt like it weight a hundred pounds. He barely even noticed that his line of sight was narrowing. This didn’t stop him from catching a glimpse of himself as he passed the mirrored wall on his way to the back corner stall. Vik didn’t have dark skin by any means, more of a light tan, but as he passed the mirror even he noticed that his skin appeared to be few shades darker.

Finally noticing his tunnel vision, “prolly just the sickness,” he thought to himself as he stumbled through the stall door snagging his messenger bag on the locking mechanism. “What the hell did I eat last night,” Vik thought to himself as he struggled with his bag.

His fumbling worsened when his fingers started to hurt. Well, his fingers didn’t so much as hurt as they felt ultra-sensitive. He noticed the pock marked hills and valleys of his bag’s canvas strap along with what he thought were bugs making their way through those valleys. Vik recoiled away from his bag and drew both hands to his face to inspect his fingertips. He failed to notice the two Johns starting at him.

“What…the…fuck…” he said under his breath.

“SIR!” the fat white gate guard shouted as he reached up and firmly tapped Vik’s shoulder.

The gate guard had announced “Vykingham Chandan” over the airport’s PA system for the past five minutes and had gotten fed up with people giving him strange looks as he struggled with Vik-Rahm Ch-on-Don-ah’s phonetic pronunciation, so he waddled into the bathroom to get him.

It was less than a blink, but Vik’s left hand shot out like a striking snake. He grabbed and proceeded to crush the gate guard’s pudgy right index finger before it could make contact with his third hard wrap on his right shoulder.

Vik never heard a man squeal like that before.

He kind of liked that noise.

Chapter 1

With all the death, destruction and overall mayhem that has gone on recently, you would think that I would be somewhat prepared for what was about to unfold when I heard the wooden floor creak just outside my bedroom door, but I was still trying to strangle the last bit of breath out of my wife and the last thing I needed to do was feed the kids.

I muttered something to myself about the kids being little bastards as the shadow from one or both of their little feet passed under the door and across my wife’s still kicking leg. All I needed was another thirty seconds…

It didn’t have to come to this. I warned her that if she didn’t do exactly as I said, this was going to happen. Now look at what she’s done; she’s making me choke the shit out of her. Damn, my forearms are burning, how much longer do I have to choke this bitch before she just dies?

“Mommy! Daddy!” You could tell the kids weren’t use to the door being closed in the morning, because instead of going straight for the doorknob and twisting, they just slapped at the wooden door with the palms of their hands as they cried out for us. “Daddy! Maaaaaamaaaaaaa!”

Thank God I tied her hands behind her back as she was sleeping because I could hear her fingernails digging into the maple floors. Damn, she’s got some fight left in her…come on! Just die!

As the doorknob started to move, my heart rated picked up. I couldn’t let the kids see me choking the shit out of their mom. I’m a heartless SOB, but at the moment I still love my kids.

“Daddy will be just a second,” I said through clenched teeth. Just a few more seconds…

The door started to open and I instinctively jumped up to hold it shut with my foot. One of the kids must have banged their head into the door because after the thump Chris started crying. He’s always crying so I didn’t know if it was him or his brother who took the bump.

Maia gasped and sucked in a lung full of air. She turned her head toward me, took another breath and cracked a devilish smile.

This is going to be a long day.