THE CALL AT TERMINAL B
Chapter I: The Rain on the Tarmac and the Falling Traveler
A heavy evening downpour streaked across the panoramic glass windows of Terminal B at Riverside International Airport. Outside on the wet runway, commercial airliners idled under the amber glow of tarmac floodlights while hurried passengers pulled rolling luggage across the gleaming concourse floor.
Pushing a mop bucket along the corridor was Toby, a sixteen-year-old cleaning attendant wearing a maroon polo shirt, grey utility vest, and his airport staff badge.
A sudden, sharp thud echoed against the glass.
Near the window frame, an elderly man in a dark-green wool overcoat and worn leather boots collapsed onto the floor. His face was drenched in cold sweat and rainwater, his hands trembling as he clutched a battered vintage leather briefcase against his chest, shivering violently from exhaustion.
Toby immediately dropped his mop handle, rushed over, and dropped to his knees beside the fallen traveler, wrapping a supportive arm around the man's trembling shoulders.
"Finish your shift!" a harsh voice barked from down the hall.
Marching over with an angry scowl was Harold Croft, the terminal operations supervisor, wearing an orange safety vest over a blue collared shirt. Croft grabbed Toby’s arm, attempting to wrench the young attendant back to his feet.
"He's freezing!" Toby protested, pulling free from the supervisor's grip.