From all that, all Deacon was concerned about is hearing the word, “Prison.”

Where is it? Nowhere in this airport is there enough space for a prison.

Unless he used the hangars.

Deacon turns to Stan, while people cheer the ‘miracle’ on. He whispers to his ear, “Keep Father busy. You need to buy me at least twenty minutes.”

“Where you goin’?” Asks Stan. “To look for the prison.”

His face adopts a confused look as Deacon walks off. He looks over to Jane, politely smiles and bows his head as he walks past her. “Good evening, Deak.” She greets him.

“Evening, Jane.” He replies as he walks past.

“Did she just call me Deak?” He wonders. It doesn’t bother him. Rather strangely, it comforts him. Deacon stops in his path.

“Come with me.” Deacon invites Jane to come along. “N-Now?” She asks, stuttering nervously. “C’mon. Nothing to be nervous about.” He persuades her.

“Okay.” She replies with and sweet, small, excited smile.

The world slows down for Deacon at that moment. He feels happy, looking into Jane’s eyes. The sunset rays illuminate the light brown in them, and soft shadows cast into the sides of her lips as she smiles politely. The wind blows her neck-long purple dyed hair into her eyes. She closes them and sweeps the hair away from her face.

She now stands beside him, and in a soft voice, she asks, “Where are we going?”

The world comes back to normal, where Deacon’s cheeks have gone pink. Embarrassed, he changes the topic. “Ah yes. So, Father said that he would send Ellie to prison while on stage. But I reckoned, there is no prison outdoors, because we don’t see it. The only place it’d have enough space is in a plane hangar. So, Stan is going to keep Father’s attention as we look through the camp, and try to find the prison.”

“Uh-Okay. Lead the way.” She replies. Excitement sweeps off her face, suddenly making her seem dull.

So, they make their way over to one of the hangars. Deacon instructs her to hide behind a tire pile, as he peeps through the back door. There are cages in there. Cages stacked one above another, tied on by chains. The room is dimly lit. It certainly would feel like a prison in there.

Suddenly, a guard opens the door and stops in his footsteps, as he finds Deacon, frozen right in front of him bent halfway towards him.

He points his AR at Deacon and questions, “Why are you here, camper?”

“Woah woah!” Jane exclaims, coming out from behind the tire racks. She looks in pain. With her hand over her belly, she comes up with a story, “I’m having cramps. It’s never happened like this before. I’m looking for help.”

Deacon plays along. “Please help my wife.”

Instead of blushing at the thought, he embraces it.

“It really hurts.” She pleads with her eyes halfway closed.

The guard holsters his gun, putting it back on the side of his right thigh.

He steps back and pulls out a large white storage container. He looks through it and hands her some pills. “You keep this off the record, you got it?” He warns them to keep quiet. “Seriously. They could kill me for this.” He says, scared.

“Your secret’s safe with us, sir. Thank you.” Deacon replies.

He walks back into the prison and watches the clock, waiting for it to hit 12, so he can relax, letting the night shift take over.

Deacon moves to Jane, and takes her arm over his shoulders, carrying her from the side. “What exactly are we doing now?” Asks Jane, in a joke-y sceptical way. “We have to play along with the lie until we are out of his sight.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Deacon looks for the closest obstacle and spots a shed. “I’m gonna carry you like this till that shed to our right.” He points out.

“No, take me to that balcony.” She points in the distance. And much further away, is the balcony she is talking about. Five stories high, the balcony stands as a makeshift air traffic control tower. A thin set of concrete stairs wrap the building, going straight to the top.

So, Deacon begins carrying her there, while she barely steps. “Nice acting by the way.” He makes small talk.

“Thank you. I could say the same to you.” She replies, with a slightly wider but still almost polite grin. This time, Deacon smiles back.

Her face goes pink too, faced away from Deacon.

Minutes later, “Almost there” Deacon says.

“It’s kinda cold, isn’t it?” Asks Jane. “Somewhat.” He replies.

Jane slightly tightens her arm around his shoulders and pulls herself closer to him for warmth. Meanwhile, Deacon is freaking out under his skin. “What do I do? What do I say? What is this situation? Is this good? Is this bad? Am I holding her up right?” He keeps asking himself over and over again in his flabbergasted head.

They finally reach the top of the balcony. Deacon is out of breath, but didn’t let go of her arm.

“Sit me down there.” Asks Jane, politely. Deacon does so.

Her legs hang off the balcony, as she sits leaning forward into a pole from the railing. “You’re not gonna sit?” She asks Deacon.

“Uh-u… Yes. One sec.” He replies, stammering, and turning pinker by the second.

He gets down and kneels next to her. “Oh, come on.” She sighs playfully.

She grabs Deacon’s leg and throws him off balance. He falls over to his side at a playful intensity, and Jane grabs his left leg to put it next to hers, hanging it off the balcony just like hers. He puts his right leg down on the other side of the adjacent pole to Jane. Their jeans are gently pressed against each other, and they sit staring at the airport/camp thingy laid out under their feet.

“Wow.” She says, seemingly impressed. “Huh-w-what?” Deacon asks.

“The orange sun goes really well with your purple eyes.” She points out confidently.

“Well… thank you. It’s the same with your purple hair. It suits you. It goes especially well with the maroon leather jacket you have.” He compliments her as a response.

Jane looks at the side of Deacon’s face as he stares down at the tiny airport. “Hard to believe this is where planes used to land.” Points out Deacon.

A soft, and pleasant silence ensues for a few seconds, where Jane is thinking of what to reply.

“You know what’s harder to believe?” Jane asks. Then she chuckles.

“What?” Asks Deacon.

“The fact that you carried me down the full length of the runway.”

In disbelief, Deacon looks down to see that the hangar was on the other end of the runway. He realises that he just walked down the whole runway to get to the balcony. They both laugh at each other. Jane lies down onto her elbows.

“It felt a lot smaller a distance.” Deacon points out.

Jane’s laughing softly comes to a stop.

She moves her hair to the side of the face, and her smile turns into an almost straight face. She looks… happy? Hopeful?

She turns the top half of the body and faces Deacon. Leant back on her elbows. Then, she puts her hand on Deacon’s shoulder and says, “I wouldn’t either, if I was the one carrying you.”

She exhales, wondering if Deacon got the hint that she tried giving him. He sits still, with his face straightening. His eyes locked onto Jane’s.

“He got the hint.” Jane’s heart tells her.

So, she leans in and so does Deacon. Gently, their lips touch. They close their eyes and slide their hands onto each other’s backs.

The world just left their minds. No pain is felt. Deacon doesn’t feel like a loose canon anymore, and Jane doesn’t feel like a ‘loser’ anymore. Connecting on a new level, the two keep kissing with their eyes closed, sliding their soft lips against each other’s.

They fell into the arms of each other since that construction site. They have been looking for someone like each other since before the fall. Now, they belong to each other.

About a minute later, their lips move away. Facing each other, they place their elbows on each other’s shoulders and lean their foreheads against each other’s.

Jane catches her breath, as Deacon exhales. With butterflies in their hearts, both smile at each other. “What does this mean?” Asks Deacon. “Ask yourself what you want it to mean. The answer to that is what it means.”

“Seems I got me a partner.” Says Deacon softly, while smiling.

Relieved, and ecstatic, they lay down on the wooden floor. Seconds later, they laugh at the stars out of excitement. The energy of a young promising couple radiates from the moment.

“First time kissing someone?” Asks Jane.

“Yup. You noticed eh?” Replies Deacon.

She chuckles.

“Not bad at all, Deak.” She comforts him. “You can now practice.”

So, they lay down on the balcony just talking about life before the fall. And by the time they finished talking, the guard’s shift had ended.

“It’s 12 already?” Jane asks.

“Wow we talked a lot.” Says Deacon.

“Let’s get to the prison now. I reckon there will be some time before the next shift comes in.” Deacon says.

They stand up and begin moving cautiously.

“Clear.” Says Deacon, looking behind the tire racks.

“What’re you doing?” Says a raspy voice behind Jane’s shoulder.

She turns around and sees a familiar face. “Stan?”

“Son, and Jane. I did some exploring. I found what you were looking for. It’s not a prison… because there isn’t one. It’s much worse.”

“What is it?” Asks Deacon.

“Decoration.” He replies.

What does he mean by that?