THE LONELY WALK

September 13th 2003, as Jif remembered it.
A rapid change from the council estates of Humberside. Jif could only remember the plane landing. A heavy thud and rattle as the wheels slammed into the runway. Everything was going great; he was treated like royalty, and enjoyed every minute of it. He sat in sat in First class; a comfortable reclining chair in deep ocean blue, and mini-TV on his arm rest. He sat in the far right window seat with two empty spaces next to him.
The plane was half empty. It only had Asian passengers and stewardesses and no western faces, making him feel both connected and outside. But they all welcomed him with traditional hospitality, and heavily accented English. He was wearing a brand new gun-metal grey pin-stripe suit he'd bought the previous day, for his new job.
The pilot called out on his intercom in Japanese, which sounded metallic through the speakers. Then he spoke in English.
"Ladies and gentleman. Thank you for flying with us today. Please remain seated until we have stopped."
Jif peered through his window, hugging the cream plastic wall of the plane. The airport was a huge metropolis of glass and steels, shining white from the metallic sky. As the plane trundled and slowed he could more Jumbos parked up to a huge dark grey sprouting things which appeared to be the terminal walkways. Jif guessed that was where he'd find his pickup.
Suddenly the plane turned left and the airport disappeared from his view. He pondered if a set of steps would be used instead. His answer came when an articulated stair truck bounced in front of his window. But just behind the truck, followed two black Jeeps, with tined windows. And a black and white Police saloon with red light bar on the roof, flashing.
Jif's heart started to race. He'd never been in trouble before, but he'd seen the brutality of the Japanese police on TV, and Washington was at loggerheads with Tokyo for the selling of military equipment to rogue states.
There was another blast of words through the speakers and a few seconds later the plane stopped completely. There was a light bar above each seat, with a picture of a belt being closed. It had been on since the start of the flight, and it went out. And with that, everybody on the plane stood up to the noise of sliding metal from the belts.
The door took a further 5 minutes to open, so Jif stayed seated while the rest of the passengers stood in line on the deck, holding their briefcases and trying to look reserved. The door opened with a chuff, out of sight. A cold breeze wafted in with the smell of aviation fuel. The line of suits marched forward as gossip filled the air, and a female voice repeated the same words over again in the distance.
Once the gangway was clear, Jif heaved himself out of his seat, and realised his bottom was sweaty as it gradually got cold as the outside air breezed through his suit. He gazed down at his massive stomach, and pulled his belt up over his fat self to make sure the whites of his pants weren't showing.
Jif didn't hold anything. He didn't even have a suitcase, or any luggage. He was going to buy new clothes in the new city. He casually wobbled down the dark blue carpet of the gangway, his shoes clubbing the hard surface, and creaking unnervingly under his weight. Ahead of him a bald Asian man promptly paced along, under a plastic archway, and turned left to the exit, ignoring the smiling stewardess standing by.
Jif tucked in his arms, being cautious as his fatness could have trapped him in the door way. The Stewardess was wearing a white blouse, blue skirt and blue epilates with a blue bowler hat as part of the uniform. She was the one who kept of repeating "Thank you for flying" in Japanese. But all he could understand was the thank you, as "Arigeto." So that's how he replied.
"Arigeto" he said back, really meaning it.
He stepped over the lip of the doorway and stepped onto the set of shiny steel steps. He held his arms over his eyes. Even with the cloud the sun was still brighter than he was used to in Humberside.
"Mr Kitchen" called a masculine far-east voice. His I's sounded more like E's. Jif glanced around the tarmac of the runway, looking through a dozen airport staff in blue overall suits and hi-visibility vests, along with several Japanese men in suits standing around with A4 pieces of white card with names of passengers written in black felt. Among the suits, one in a cheap grey suit held his name in proud capitals.
"I AM" yelled Jif, as he skipped down the metal stairs. It was empty since he hesitated at the door of the plane. He waltzed around several fellow passengers mingling with their pickups to greet the grey suit, who pulled a corky smile below his evil looking slit eyes and a mop of slick black hair.
"Hello" said the suit, lowering the huge card in his left hand, and grabbing Jif's hand with his right, giving a firm shake. "Ohiyo, we say in Japan" he went on, dropping the card with slap on the tarmac.
"Could I see some ID?" questioned Jif. He had every right to be cautious. There were uncomforted reports that the Yakuza he infiltrated the island, and a company executive could have been a tasty ransom.
The suit nodded and reached into his internal pocket. He pulled out a shiny new brown leather wallet. He opened it with a finger, and displayed a card with a picture of a younger version of himself. Writing on the card was scribbled in Japanese hieroglyphs, and the other section of the wallet had a simple badge, made of shiny gold.
"Kensuka Kemachi, Japanese interior ministry. I am here to show you to you're new home." He closed the wallet up and slid it back in the breast pocket of his Suit. "Welcome to Frontiera Island."