TITLE: THE BABA YAGA
I could not see the malevolence in his face.
My "seeing eye woman" flung her body against my side, knocking both of us to the cold airport terminal floor. I instinctively struggled to rise. Kayko recovered faster, fell off me, sat up and, straight armed, used all the weight she could leverage to push me back down. "Just stay there!" she whispered. An explosive discharge echoed off the sides of the airport walls. I heard robotic outbursts I could not interpret.
The man with the gun in front of us turned and ran, pushed hard against a non-automatic door, exited into daylight and kept running. Men in blue shirts running as hard banged the door against its casings as they rushed to follow the gunman.
I looked behind me to see if anyone was hurt. I saw only blank faces, but no one was on the ground. Security guards from the nearby gates surrounded us, lifted us to our feet, and pushed us towards an office about 50 feet away. "Stay here until you are debriefed," one guard said and closed the door.
I looked at Kayko's blank face. All faces are blank to me. I have a form of autism that prevents me from seeing human expression. My disability extends to voices. I cannot hear the emotion in voices.
"Explain." My own voice sounds robotic to me as well.