3Ah, the plains of West Kansas... There's just no end to them. The silence is deafening. The sunsets are anywhere from black-and-white to sepia.
These are the runways at the airport. They're of dirt. It's usually very quiet here. The planes that land here are small. It's an ideal airport for anyone who'd love to make a quick-yet-silent getaway...as well as for a few who WOULDN'T love to.
It may not look it, but this part of Kansas is a crossroads. Each road that crosses here is very long and leads very far away from here. And for the most part, they're never used. Even more seldom, they're used on purpose.
This is a suburb in Colby. It's very quiet. Every now and then, a gentle wind blows. It causes wind vanes to creak, and wind chimes to barely ring. But then, at least the wind is gentle. As good as this hood looks, it's no stranger to tornados.
In a studio behind one of these little boxes on the hillside made of ticky-tacky, a sculpture is in-progress. It doesn't look like much now...but there's a blueprint of George Henry Thomas hanging from a canvas nearby.
On a stool, a box of chisels sits. John McPherson, the man of this house, takes one up, and starts sculpting Gen. Thomas's chest muscles.
As John sculpts, he thinks of himself, the ideal male youth, and Gen. Thomas, all at the same time. By the time this sculpture is complete, alas, Thomas will look more qualified to be a major than a general.
As he works, his wife lingers in the doorway. Meet Marissa Smith. Her hair is raven, and if it isn't in a bob, it's short. Today, she's in a black sleeveless top. As sexy as this tends to look, it's also an indicator that she's venting more emotion than she'd be secure with. Funny; Johnny thought she WAS emotional, and that's why he married her...
She crosses her bare arms, and watches her man sculpt. As good as his work is turning out, Marissa could care less about the sculpture. She feels more distant from Johnny than usual...and it worries her...a lot.
He won't talk to her. He hasn't been talking to her. Hence, she senses she's losing him. He'd insist it's just natural; she's not so sure. He was much more talkative, back when they first met...
She sighs, shakes her head, and takes her leave. It's too much for her to deal with. Alas, she's obsessed; and hence, is virtually doomed. One can't tell, then, who's in more danger; him of losing her, or her of overloading herself with concern.
On a desk nearby, new blueprints for upcoming sculptures lie. After sculpting Thomas, John's going to move on to the Wild Angel(s?).
The sun sets over Thomas County. It sets over many vast open plains...as well as the courthouse in Colby...as well as the 9th Street suburb...
Tonight, Marissa and John sleep in the same bed. John falls asleep first. Moments pass before Marissa realizes she's the only person in this house who's still awake.
She lies on her side, facing the side of the bed. For now, her eyes are closed. They don't stay that way.
She opens them. She looks around. She rises...and puts on little more than a white silken gown. The gown is sleeveless, and streams translucent fabric from the short skirt.
Soon, Marissa unlatches the back gate of the back yard, and heads out. Beyond, the land is either flat or mildly hilly. Either way, she'd rather be out here than in bed.
Out there, coyotes howl...as do a few lobos. But tonight, Marissa isn't half as afraid of them as she is mourning for her chronically emotionally-blocked husband.
Elsewhere in Thomas County, the airport still sits. On a tower, a radar antenna rotates. Lights on a few other towers flash.
A wall-high chain link fence surrounds the airport. It seems that the place is expecting Marissa; a huge gap has been sawed into the fence. And yet, airport security sounds o alarm. Marissa doesn't seem to regard this, as she marches right through the hole.
Next to the runways, she's like a bug. She scoffs, as she thinks that she must be like a bug to John. She buzzes in his ears constantly, and yet, for the most part, he doesn't come to his wit's end.
The dirt shifts beneath her bare feet, as she makes it to the center of the runway. Here, she stands. At any moment, an aircraft could touch down where she stands. And yet, for the most part, she cares not.
High in the sky, among the stars, a sepia-colored star can be seen. It's not what it appears. It's the planet Saturn. Somewhere around it, the moon Titan still revolves.
It's a bit chilly out here tonight. Marissa clings to herself, and shivers some. She almost misses home... Alas, if only she didn't have to share it with an overly-taciturn, overly-crabby, overly-cold-shouldered husband...
Across the night sky, a comet makes way. There's something prominent about it... And it seems to be getting more so...
She could do it. Any time she wanted to, she could hijack a plane here and leave John forever. She's so close. And yet...why can't she bring herself to go through with it?
The comet's become more prominent; like a bulge, in fact... It's getting closer. Shit; should Marissa be standing so close to where it's probably going to...
The airport's alarm horn doesn't make a noise...for some reason. But then, it's probably been sabotaged...and remotely so, at that...
The "comet" is a space shuttle. Rear landing gear first, it lands on the runway. Now, Marissa abandons the center of it all. She'd hate to become roadkill, after all... She just...wishes she was married to a man who'd feel the same way...about her, as well as himself...
Soon, the shuttle is braked. It has to travel in loops around the airport a few times... But once it slows down, it can roll into place...and does. Funny; it hardly needs a ground crew to tell it where to go. So much for the overused "smashing window" clip from the movie Airplane!...
Its hatch opens. From it, a ramp is lowered. As it's lowered, it seems to extend itself towards Marissa.
For Marissa, this is eerie. She has no idea where this shuttle comes from, or what its business ratings are...if business is even something it reveres. Either way, it seems to be offering to take her away from her husband. And this, she sort of wants to do...to prove a point, if nothing else. She might not even care if her husband never gets said point. Plus, the shuttle might try to bully her, if she walks away. She'd hate to think this is extortion... Hence, she decides not to give the shuttle a reason to prove that it is...best she can, for as long as it lasts.
In bare feet, she ascends the ramp. Never once, does she look back. It's just as well; she'll have plenty of chances to see West Kansas from a satellite's eye view, once she's airborne...and beyond that, orbit-borne...
Aboard, a set of green lit signs guide her to a seat-of-honor. The seat belts are furried, and there are bottles of wine within compartments within the armrests. Strangely, Marissa receives benevolent vibes from this shuttle. With luck, this isn't bait in some sort of Venus fly trap.
Before long, the shuttle has raised its ramp. Before long, it's done a 180. Soon, its afterburners, once again, burn. It speeds back down the runway, and ascends...
From the portholes, Marissa watches West Kansas vanish, beneath her. For part of it, she can see the home where she and John had spent the past few years building a mundane-yet-somewhat-serene life for themselves... Alas, he might never come after her. Her departure might not even prove anything to him...much though she'd love for it to.
As the shuttle rises, Marissa must pop her own ears several times. Before long, gravity has abandoned this rig...as has warmth. Hence, the cabins' heaters kick on.
Marissa's breath has been taken away. Hence, she might as well not be in this shuttle; she might as well be a jettisoned corpse in orbit. She'd best not think such thoughts too much, though; this shuttle, after all, could be telepathic...or worse...
The shuttle allows Earth's orbit to take it to a more strategic place to move on from. As this happens, it makes sparing uses of its own thrusters, to maneuver itself into the perfect position for this...
At last, somewhere over Angola, the geometric coordinates meet. Hence, once more, and right on time, the shuttle re-activates its afterburners. Into deep space, the craft soon flies, leaving Earth far behind...and also soon to leave the solar system, as well, far behind...
It's funny; this year, Angola is a member of the UN Security Council. Hence, one wouldn't expect their militias to so whimsically allow an alien spacecraft to abduct an Earth native...even if she wasn't Ovimbundu... They shouldn't feel so bad, though; the security at the airport in Thomas County didn't go off, either, when the shuttle arrived... Marissa's not even sure if NASA knows about the shuttle... O well; security can't win them all, right? Plus, as well as things are going already, they might not have to... Alas, if only the UNSC could cure John of his issues... Come to think of it, if only this shuttle could cure him...
Marissa still can't believe she's put herself in a position like this. She also must be crazy, thinking that it's fair to expect her husband to follow her this far...if he ever would... He may never find out she's done this... But then, of course, it seems just as likely that he'll never get the point at all. Either way, Marissa can only hope that where she's bound is better than where she was...unlikely though it seems that she'll ever detach herself from her issues.