deported?

The chair hurt her back and once again she whinged at her partner, his response was curt.
"For fucks sake! You're never happy with anything! " he got up and walked towards the long line snaking round the terminal and joined the queue. He could hear her yelling at him and was inwardly cursing that the terminal wasn't further away. People in the queue began watching in earnest, many were hoping it would turn into a 'scene' some had even got their hand on their phone in case the scene became youtube worthy.
The airport had always unsettled him, he never liked using it and rarely did, this time however they had been left with no choice and he wondered glumly would it be the last time he came through here as a married man? The memory of a hideous painting distracted his thoughts. It was the decor that was the problem he mused to himself, and inch by inch the queue creeped forward. The statues were bad enough, fucking awful, he thought, but those paintings, why have such hideous images in a public place? he couldn't understand it.

The woman was stood staring at him, her face was cold and almost plastic like, he wondered if perhaps there were no real staff and these were all robots, she seemed to be expecting something. "Oi" grumbled a man behind him and he was snapped from his wandering thoughts as he realised not only did she want his passport but if he didn't hurry up the growling bear-man behind him was going to make sure he produced that passport in very quick time.
He stood bored, looking at the non descript desk, he looked at the bland walls behind the woman, his mind had wandered again, he tried, unsuccessfully, to work out how best to tell his wife he hated her and was leaving, it was difficult, there is no nice way to say 'fuck this I am off' but it had to be done.
The woman still had his passport, he hadn't noticed, what he did become immediately aware of was the two men in uniform coming straight for him, he definitely was painfully aware of their large hands now gripping his arms.
"You need to accompany us , sir"
"What? why? wait, what's wrong? What's going on? I am sure we could ow! for fucks sake stop that! ow!" his protestations were ignored, his body, supported by the meat slab hands of security, was being transported quickly from the main area, then he was being propelled along a thin dark corridor.
The room he was finally dumped in was small and damp, it looked like a prison cell. He was left in the room and within a few minutes another man had appeared, the man pulled up the only chair, and sat on it and motioned for him to sit down. he looked about and there was only a wooden box crate so he sat on that, he was becoming worried, and this was definitely out of order he grumbled inwardly but still held sure that he would be ok, he was an ordinary law abiding English citizen, he figured that meant he had rights.
"There is a slight ," the man paused and a creepy half smile slid across his face and he continued "problem, sir"
"Well I am sure we can sort it out just tell me what the problem is though I don't know why I haven't done anything wrong, I am not smuggling anything if that's what you're thinking!" he said.
The man, he thought to himself was one ugly creep, he didn't like him at all. Something about the man made his skin crawl, he wasn't sure if it was the pallid grey skin of the mans face, the way it seemed to be peeling off in places, or the greasy lank strands of hair that lay drooped over the shining bald patch, that seemed to have so much grease he half expected to see it drip from the scraggly ends of dark grey hair, the more he looked the more he decided everything about this disgusting man was grey and somehow putrid.
"No, sir" the man answered in a slow languid voice, it set his teeth on edge, he felt more and more uncomfortable this man was almost making him feel nauseaus and he was now praying for a way out of here, get away from this peeling rotting man. The man spoke again, even his voice sounded oily.
"We don't believe you were smuggling"
He could feel his stomach begin to churn, in disgust at the man and the creeping fear that something had gone terribly wrong and he didn't know what it was.
"No, we have a more, immediate, problem , sir" said the man and smiled slowly, it was a tight lipped smile and made extra tendrils of fear snake into his stomach. "We, have a problem, with your passport, sir"
"Oh god is that all?" he exclaimed, the relief flooded through him, this would be ok after all, just some creepy man unsettling him, it's been a bad day, he shouldn't have been such a fanny he told himself.
"I am sure we can easily sort it out, it's just my old passport been using it a while now, is it out of date or something?"
"No, sir, no, the date is not the problem" the man spoke so slowly it was frustrating him.
"Well what is it then? I would like to get home at some point " he felt his usual confidence surge back, just a passport problem, he nearly laughed as he thought not as big a problem as your face mate he figured he should be out of here in no time.
"Home? sir?" said the odious man and smiled broadly again, the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Er yeah? home, like I have another flight to get yet can't wait to get back, no offense mate but the states does my head in too much, too big, too in yer face you know, no offence like"
"I think, sir, that you will be going," the man annoyingly paused again then in an even slower voice said "home"
"Look mate, you're really starting to do my head in you know, what's the problem let's get this sorted so you and I can go our seperate ways, never to meet again , hopefully" he was beyond his usual patience level now this man was annoying, ugly and possibly not human he thought sarcastically, and his thoughts were turning to food, he had been here hours hadn't he? he was starving.
"Well , sir, the problem is this small stamp here, " the man pointed a darkly stained finger towards the open passport and he could see a small and rather unintelligble mark, it made no sense to him, he didn't recall seeing it before, when did that appear? just some visa mark or something wasn't it? but he could not seem to recall ever getting such a mark on his passport. he scowled in deep thought.
"I, er, I don't know what that is, surely it's just a visa stamp? I never seen it before, I thought all stuff in there is stuff the airport put on it when you go through, you know it's like don't they stamp it or something? I don't know, it's nothing to do with me, go check with the airport staff, they will know something about it"
The man still sat grinning, it was very unnerving and he didn't like it. He didn't like the way the man would scratch at the peeling bit of his skin on his neck either, each time he saw him do it his stomach lurched and he knew that if he didn't get away from this man soon he would vomit.
"Yes, sir" the slow drawl of words grated on his nerves he didn't want the man to ever talk again, but he wanted to get out of here, the repulsive man continued "Yes, it is, like you say sir, it is, a stamp" the man seemed to enjoy the awkward silence, it was almost as if he was trying to extend the bouts of tension filled silence for as long as was possible.
"It is the stamp, sir, that is the problem, it is not, as you suggest, a stamp from the staff at this airport"
"Well surely it's from an airport? Isn't there some computer you can check and it tells you where it's from? I don't see how there can be a problem with some stamp mark on my passport?" he questioned, this seemed very fishy to him and he was worried again.
"Yes, sir" at this point the odious man seemed to expand his grin so wide it stretched beyond what should have been phsyically possible, only for a brief second, then returmed to it's normal unsettlingly wide, tight lipped grin. "Yes, you are quite right, sir, there is a programme, and we did run it and it was clearly identified, sir"
"Ok so what's the problem?" he tried to keep the rising stress from his voice.
"Well, sir, the problem, is that , the stamp on your passport, identifies you as an illegal alien" the man did that impossible, painful looking wide stretched smile again, again it was only for a second.
"A what? No there must be some mistake, I am not an immigrant, I am English! Look, you can see my passport, I am English! and I have had a crap holiday! and been stuck in this fucking awful airport, seriously mate the decor here is fucking disgusting! You want to change them paintings you do, and that fucking crazy horse statue, anyway look mate, I am not an immigrant mate, just an English bloke who want's to go back to the delightful shores of blighty So that stamp thing is some kind of mistake and I don't know how or where it's come from" he protested, he was now sure of his innocence in any situation and most certainly this one.
"No, sir, you have, been detained, sir, your passport bears the stamp, that is a crime, sir, in this case we have decided on immediate deportation you will be placed in room 6B " the man then got up and without another word left the room.
"Yeah well fuck you mate" he shouted, he kicked the door and yelled " and how come some stupid stamp shows who is a fucking immigrant ey? how the fuck does some stamp that I have never seen before be proof of me being some fucking immigrant?" he kicked the door again and for good measure threw the old metal chair across the room. After the rage had settled he thought and realised he still got to go home and laughed, he wanted to go home so it didn't matter to him if it was by being deported, saved him getting another flight sorted, and he just remembered that meant he got to go home, without her, result! he thought and smiled.
He sat on the bed and waited to be deported.

She had waited ages, and he hadn't come back, she was really annoyed and had complained loudly at anyone who would listen. Not sure what to do next and the sky was now sinking into darkness and she was hungry, she went to grab a taxi. After booking in at the hotel and grabbing food she was sat staring at the TV not sure what to do, there had been no communication at all, he hadn't answered a single text, he hadn't answered any of her calls, she tried to call the airport but couldn't get through, was no one was answering her calls? she thought and sighed. She wasn't sure whether or not to call the police, does he count as a missing person? she wondered, he's missing to me , but he's an adult and he wasn't attacked or anything as far as she could tell, he had gone to the terminal, presumably to sort out when to board passports etc she remembered seeing him stood in the queue, she had been mad at him and she regretted that now. It was that horrid airport she thought, it had really bad paintings it had reminded her of when as a child she had lived in Czeckoslovakia, there was always really awful public art, on the buildings , in the towns, bloody awful, nice country though, it's not even called that now, something like Czec Republic or something now she thought sadly.
She rolled a joint and put on her coat grumbling about how next time she would find a hotel that had a smoking room, she knew they existed, she had seen a website, never found one though. She stood outside in the dark, the hotel seemed surreal against the blackness of the sky, almost as if it wasn't real, it looked like a very good replica of how someone thought a hotel should look, maybe all hotels looked slightly false because they weren't meant to be lived in she thought, like why is it that a house feels real, but a building of any description seems somehow less than real her imagination had wandered into wondering if everything was part of some big film set, like the truman show she thought and smiled.
She still hadn't heard from him though, no matter how much her mind wandered it kept being dragged back to the ominous lack of communication from her husband, she couldn't work out if she had annoyed him so much he had just left the airport, left her, she felt a tear sting the corner of her eye as she worried that he wasn't missing, he had finally had enough and left. She was difficult to live with that's what he told her, how could anyone live with a mess like her? She felt the spiral, the downward drag that would grip her for days, filled with paranoia and panic, he was right she thought, and resolved to try and be a better wife.
The morning came bright and sharp with cold frost nipping at the skin, she didn't want to get up, she didn't want to move. She had groggily stared at her phone, the lack of any text or call told her something must be wrong, surely even if he had left me he would have texted to say he wanted his stuff, surely some hate filled message of how he couldn't stay to be with her any longer and wanted a divorce She checked again, still nothing.
The police had been, polite, was the only word she could think of, it felt like they were just humouring her, maybe they thought he had just left too. She sighed again and went about booking a flight home, there was nothing else she could do she thought, the money wouldn't really stretch to her staying her any longer he would have to just to work out getting home himself and maybe when she got back there would be a message, or something, anything.
People did ask after him, at first, but after a while not even his mother bothered texting. It was shocking to her just how little people cared, or were even interested. She had tried calling his phone so many times at first, she had prayed, begged, and cried herself to sleep so many nights, the months had crept by and life had gone on, she looked at his clothes still hung in the wardrobe and decided that it was now time, she had to be brave she told herself.
She looked at the few possessions he had, he had shown clearly he wasn't coming back, no one seemed to think anything was even surprising , not even the police she thought sadly as she recalled crying in the police station when she had returned to England, her sobs had not been consoled and she felt embarrassed telling them about the awful airport and the last time she saw him, and no one had come up with anything.
There was no body found, no inquest, no nothing, she had thought that UK police would do more, but no, they had said she had to bear in mind that if a grown man wanted to dissappear he had the right to.
She had felt like there should be more done to look for him, but as they had told her, every avenue had been exhausted and with no evidence of an attack or even grounds for a fear of an attack, there was nothing else could be done. She decided they were right and it was time to start a new life, she packed his clothes and took them to the local charity shop.

This room was worse than his interrogation room, he liked to call it that, despite being told he was to be given a free flight home courtesy of the deportation people he was still feeling offended by the whole incident, and he was still starving , didn't deportees get fed? he thought and would have tried to raise attention to the fact, except he was now stuck in an even smaller , even more damp, room, it also seemed to have even more flaking paint drifting down from the walls he thought and wrinkled his face in disgust, he decided he may as well sit on the floor.
This was not an attractive prospect, it was covered in grime and rubbish, it seemed to have some kind of black oil covering a lot of it and it took him a good five minutes to choose the least disgusting spot to sit in. They could have provided a chair , he thought and scowled even if it was just an old broken iron thing like in the last room, would be glad of that now He hadn't sat for more than a moment when the old rusty metal door screeched open and guards entered and grabbing him roughly he was dragged once again through maze like corridors. They seemed endless these corridors and all the same, same peeling flaking paint hanging from the same grey coloured walls, filled with the same acrid smell biting at his throat, god he would have a fucking party when he got home he thought, he felt he deserved something after this experience.
He was thrown into some kind of huge metal container, he couldn't work out how this lead to being on a plane home but he followed the line of hunched over men and women that seemed to in the same predicament as him, sure is a lot of deportees today he thought as he saw how the line more or less filled the container. It snaked round, packed tightly with bodies, so much that he couldnt see where the end of the line was, or indeed where it began. He seemed to be stuck in a human snake of sadness, he could understand that many may not be happy to be going back to whatever god forsaken country they had tried to escape from but he felt a certain sense of superiority, he came from England and would be going home to his house and job, back to normal life, go down the pub have a few jars with the lads
At this point he wondered what she was up to, she had probably called the police he thought automatically, then he realised she was probably going to assume he had gone to find beer, or anything he could drink and forget all this shit He grunted and wondered how long he had been detained, he had no sense of night or day he had been locked up since the airport. His stomach had gone past the pain of hunger a while back, it made strange noises at him just get through this then eat everything in the fucking house when I get home this thought filled him with a sense of everything was going to be alright. He did think that there was a huge amount of deportees though.
It had seemed like hours, it could even have been over day he thought, that he had stood in that queue, now he was stuck cheek by jowl in some huge looking airship, it did not bear any resemblance to any aircraft he had seen before. He had only glimpsed the outside briefly, but he knew it was not a commercial airliner. he didn't care this meant he was now on the final leg of his journey home. He tried to get comfortable , it was difficult, they were all sat literally pressed up against each other on the floor of the cavernous interior of the airship.
"Well I guess we're friends now ey?" he tried to smile at the woman whose body was squeezed between him and the next person , the next person was coughing, in a worrying rasping and shortbreathed way. The woman turned her dark eyes to look at him, he could see she hadn't eaten in a long time, her cheeks were sunken and her eyes were dark rimmed, she looked almost skeletal and it shocked him.
"I don't know what you mean" she whispered.
"Ah sorry my names Dave, and it looks like you are in the same boat, or aircraft, as me, I was just saying we should be friends, we're sitting so close it's hard not to be" and he smiled as he spoke, to him he was nearly home and so might as well lighten up a bit.
The woman stared at him, as if she couldn't believe what he had said.
"Er sorry I know you probably aren't looking forward to going hime but I am, think they made some kind of mistake with me, I kept saying I wasn't an immigrant, I mean do I look like an immigrant to you? oh sorry didn't mean any offence there love"
The woman kept staring at him, he felt uncomfortable , she was staring at him as if he was insane or something he thought and went to apologise again.
"Look sorry love I didn't mean to upset you honest, just you know I'm from the UK you know so no biggy, looking forward to getting home, sorry ermm where you from then?"
The woman slightly shook her head, a tear had crept down the side of her face, she smiled sadly
"I am from France" she began to cry softly.
"France? well that's alright!, France is a good country, you got strange taste in food like, I swear I could never eat a snail me" he laughed and continued "You should be happy you're going home I would be happy going to France" and he slightly nudged her knee with his in some vague attempt at cheering her up.
The woman was staring at him as if he was mad again, can't figure this chick out he thought, nothing wrong with France.
"You don't know what's happening do you?" she asked, her crying had stopped but her head was now hung down looking at her feet.
"We're being deported" he said and looked at her quizzically.
"Is that what they told you? I was told I was going to a FEMA camp" she whispered.
"A FEMA camp! that's bad! What did you do?" he now looked at her with new eyes, perhaps he was the only one being deported, perhaps the rest were prisoners he hadn't considered that.
"You don't understand" she said and began crying quietly again, the tears streaming down her face.
The loud crunching sounds seemed to indicate the craft had begun to judder into life and he assumed he was now in the air winging his way to dear old blighty.

The pain was becoming very annoying, he could not stretch any part of him in any direction, if he did there would be the body of another person, he had tried during the long flight and had been met each time with insults, growls, grunts, and at one point he thought he would be attacked. The flight that had felt endless was now landing and he felt his spirits pick up as he looked forward to seeing his home, sure there would be more customs probably police interviews but he didn't care he was home.
They were shunted along the queue of hunched over people, he had been shocked to see what he had first assumed were people that must have fallen asleep, it had been a long flight, but as he saw the guards kick them and then mutter something, then move on to pushing the rest into the queue, it was at this point he realised they were dead, and there was quite a few of them. He had never thought of what happened to deported people before but right now he was planing on starting a 'rights for deportees' group. The guard kicked him and he moved along with the queue, there was a door that each person was led through singly, each time one person went through and the door was shut carefully behind them, he wondered what was on the other side of that door, maybe thats where they get sorted into groups, he obviously wasnt going to FEMA camp, so he figured there would be a group of 'deportees to UK'
He went through the door, as it was shut behind him he was roughly grabbed and thrust into a small chamber, guards removed his clothes and shoved him in a small plastic cubicle and he was showered in a cold spray of what he hoped was water, except the smell burning his nose was clearly chemical. His body shook violently with the cold, his nakedness embarassing him, he began to curse loudly and the guards beat him, his cursing soon stopped.
Now dressed in a orange, foul smelling, coverall, he was shoved towards another door and he fell through it unable to contan his anger and frustration he jumped up cursing again, a small strange black object was thrust at him and he was made to join another queue. He glanced at the man in front of him and realised they must have made another mistake he grabbed the mans arm and the man instantly recoiled.
"Sorry, sorry mate look do you speak English?" he asked, the man nodded.
"Look sorry mate I don't know what's going on here but I think they made another mistake I am deported to the UK I am not sure but I think they got me mixed up with the FEMA lot, sorry don't mean to offend mate but I am not supposed to be here" he looked desperately at the man, not sure what he was expecting maybe a helpful 'oh you need to to speak to that guard over there', it didn't happen, instead the man was laughing, he was laughing hysterically at him, and he just stood there in shock, he could not understand what was going on.
"Shit sorry didn't realise you were some sort of nutter, I mean someone with mental problems sorry look try to calm down" it was then the guards came over, they looked at him, they looked at the man now collapsed with manic sounding laughter and then they shot the laughing man. The body was quickly and efficiently removed by the cleaners and he was still stood staring in shock. He tried to gather enough of his senses to ask the guard if he knew where there was a help desk or something as he was sure there had been a mistake.
The guard used his gun to move him back into the queue and left. What the fuck was going on here? he thought and was seriously starting to panic now, he had no way of identifying himself, and he appeared to be going to a FEMA camp and he was sure as hell he wasn't going to go quietly, but he didn't want to be shot.
"You havent got a clue have yer?" muttered the man behind him, the queue moved forward.
"What? No there's a mistake I am supposed to be deported back to the UK, soon as I get home I am going to fucking complain about this it's ridiculous! don't they know I am English? "
"No, you are not going back to the UK" the man muttered and waited.
"Yes I fucking am, soon as I get this sorted out, someone will surely work it out, and I will keep complaining til they do"his indignation that an Englishman could suffer such a situation was his overiding passion at the moment and he was mentally planning on suing the american government for every penny it had.
The man waited a few seconds longer, he spoke quietly
"This is going to be difficult for you to take in, let's go slowly, look at the thing in your hand," the man gestured and he looked properly at the black rectangular palm sized box, it had some small buttons, a graphic design on the front that he didn't recognise and saw nothing he could identify.
"What do you think it is? just looks like some remote control or something doesn't it" the man continued the queue was getting quite close to the largest door he had ever seen, it was huge, metal, and covered in a complex array of locks, he looked at the man and shrugged.
"What is it then?" he asked.
"It's a tool" answered the man.
He stared at the black object and was no clearer.
"It's a tool, you are about to spend the rest of your very, short, life, hating, because you are about to spend the rest of your very, short, life, using it to mine a particular precious metal, you won't receive any kind of recompense for this, in fact you won't even be fed, you will be working, mining, for the rest of your ,very, short, life. Welcome to the world of being a slave, you are never going to see your home or England or even Earth, ever again" the man began to laugh, his laughter soon became hysteria and within minutes the guards had come over and shot him. The body was quickly and efficiently removed by the cleaners.
The queue moved along, there was only a few people people in front of him.
He had no idea what to do or say, the man had been shot right in front of him and he still wasn't recovered from the last man that was shot right in front of him, and he was seriously panicking, and he figured it wouldn't be a good idea to laugh right now.
He looked at the black object and could not figure out how it could be a tool, there was now one man in front of him and he saw the man in a plain grey suit take a needle and inject the man in front of him, he gasped and thought no way, this is not happening, fuck, fuck, fuck the man in front was taken to the huge door and ejected through it, he heard the man coughing, spluttering, it sounded like he couldn't breathe, the man behind him was smirking, insanely, and said "That's what the injections for, cos you can't breathe the atmosphere, the injection to make you last a bit longer before you die, they gotta get as much work outta you as they can" and he began laughing.
"Welcome to Venus boy! you got the ride of your life you did! Welcome to Venus!" the man was shouting now. "Welcome to Venus" and his manic laughing was accompanied by tears streaming down his face, he died sobbing as the guard shot him. The body was quickly and efficiently removed by the cleaners. He didn't even realised he had been injected, he saw the door looming large before him.
His brain repeated the words Welcome to Venus as he choked on the bitter air that rushed in burning his throat and lungs.

Velveteen 2018