Page 34 of Lost Souls

“I think of everything,” he says.

No, Arnie. You don’t. But I do. Because in times of crisis, well, you have to. Yet I have to be honest with you, dear readers, this is truly a very fraught and highly critical stage in our celestial game of souls. As you know, this whole sorry situation, this heavenly cock-up, this shit and fan ragout, it’s all virgin territory for me.

As guys say where I come from, we’re winging it here.

Chapter Eighteen

Clumsy birds have need of early flight.

(Chinese proverb)

Arnie Garth isremembering the first plane ride he ever took. It was an internal from Pittsburgh to Los Angeles, and he still recalls the excitement. He would have to admit that the fact he was a juvenile and on the run probably added to the adrenaline rush, but nonetheless, that first heady sensation as the massive steel pterodactyl left the ground needed no embellishment.

He is pretty sure, however, that he never uttered sounds comparable to those produced by his fellow passenger just a half hour earlier, sounds sufficiently disturbing to cause the remaining 243 passengers to wonder if air was seeping in at some speed from somewhere that it really shouldn’t. Only his muted but swift suggestion that the keening Noreen perhaps had a spare carrot in her bag to chomp on prevented an uncomfortable blip from developing into a major incident.

If he had to define the exact nature of the sound, Arnie Garth would be forced to say that, whilst it might be composed of a hardly unanticipated dollop of helpless terror and alarm, there was undoubtedly a dash of pure exhilaration in the mix. A ‘wheeee!’ alongside the ‘whoaaaa!’ He wonders if this might bode well for the future but has to admit that the link between a declaration of undying love and, say, a nun going on her first trip to Six Flags Magic Mountain has yet to be proven.

The Virgin Airlines flight to Las Vegas has completed its ascent, despite the momentary panic. And, perhaps because of the heady events of the past few days, Arnie Garth has suddenly fallen asleep.

Come on, who can blame him? The guy has had two major heart attacksanda stroke, discovered that through a celestial clerical error he’s without a soul in the world and will most probably go to hell on Sunday, had his funds cut off by a malevolent porn star wife, was forced to drag himself through nine kinds of mud to check out his potential ‘soulmate’, finally met her with all that this entailed and, perhaps most taxingly, had to decipher the rural Cumbrian accent. And don’t get me started on his laundry. Wouldn’t you relish a bit of shut-eye?

It is when he suddenly wakes up that Arnie Garth’s panic starts. Noreen is nowhere to be seen. He wonders for a moment whether the urge to go home and be with her stinky animals has been too hard to resist. Of course, she could just be in the bathroom, but somehow, he can’t or would rather not picture her there. So, where?

It is her voice he catches first. Sheep-herdingly loud and quite unmistakeable. He looks along the aisle. Up ahead, the crew are serving meals. And so is Noreen.

“Here you go, my dear,” she informs a bemused passenger, as she hands him his tray. “And if you do fancy any fruit with that, I believe I’ve got a banana in one of my pockets.”

“Ma’am,” says a flight attendant politely, but firmly, “could you please just put the gentleman’s haddock down and return to your seat?”

“Alright, my lovely. But I’m just down there, next to that odd-looking little balding man with the crumpled suit and the unhealthy tan. Call me if you need me. You’re on your feet all day; you deserve a rest.”

They both look towards the man answering thedescription. He is beckoning wildly.

“Did you have a good sleep, Arnie?” says Noreen, plonking herself back down with a plane-rattling thud. “You must be so tired. What with all the travelling. And the funny business.”

“What funny business?”

“Youknow. The posh country hotel? And you pretending that you didn’t know where we were flying off to today, you dafty. I’m still totally mystified, but after that horrible Apex meeting, well, I’m just glad to be away for a while.” She suddenly appears quite sad. “Mind, if you want to know the truth, I’m already missing everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Well, not human, of course.” She turns to him, with interest. “I never asked you, Arnie – do you have anyone waiting for you at home who isn’t human?”

“Yeah,” Arnie sighs regretfully, “but I’m workin’ on it.”

When the food arrives and Noreen establishes that no animal has been harmed or killed in its making, she turns to Arnie and asks him about their destination, a question he knew would be coming.

“What’s this Las Vegas like, Arnie? Well, from what you’ve heard.”

“Er…”

“I think maybe I’ve seen the name in our local travel agent’s window. But I don’t have a TV or a wireless and I never ever look at a newspaper, so I’m afraid I may be a wee bit unworldly.”

“It’s one of your best qualities, Noreen,” pounces Arnie, “your not being from this world. Or planet. It’s…well, it’s what I’ve come to love about you.”

“Really?”

“Would I lie?” he lies. Yet, to his surprise, he is not exactly finding the dearth of worldliness in this singular woman, to whom he is mystically and mystifyingly linked, the absolute worst thing in the world. In fact, right now, as the intimidating prospect of Las Vegas, city of eternal sin, looms large, it might almost be considered the best.