Tears were running down the man's face as a Garand was aimed at his forehead.

"Out the door! Down the steps, NOW!" the soldier yelled. Everyone in the line fell silent as the man sobbed. He reluctantly did what he was told and disappeared through the side entrance of the jetway. Sunlight poured in briefly before the door shut.

"Next!" the other soldier called. The man in front of me reluctantly stepped forward. The soldier lifted a tablet up to him and held it still for a moment before calling "Clear!". The man gave a sigh of relief and continued on into the bright airport that was Seatac.

"Next" the soldier yelled again. I stepped up. Nervousness and tension consumed me and I wanted to cry. The soldier, whose face was hidden behind a mask, lifted his tablet once again. I could see the lens, and I imagined it scanning me.

"Clear!"

I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until then. I breathed out a massive sigh of relief and practically pranced my way up the rest of the jetway.

"Haven't been wrong yet" The Throne whispered into my mind.

I was expecting the terminal at Seatac to be cheerier. It was summertime and sunlight shined through the skylights, making the copper salmon engraved in the floor glow. Second favorite thing in the airport, and it normally made me feel right at home. However, I was rather distracted by the woman bawling her eyes out.

"Ils ne peuvent pas me abandonner comme... ça!" she screamed. The man in front of her, a man whose skin was as dark as the heart of his home country, simply hugged her.

"Is she okay?" I asked. The man looked at me with grave eyes.

"No. She's French."

Oh.

The French had walled themselves off desperately in an attempt to avoid the fate of the Balkans. It was clear that this woman wanted back home.

"What about you?"

"My country too has abandoned me."

The tragedy of the plagues worsened. To hear about stories such as this had been one thing, but to see them... The thought returned to me of the infected man from less than five minutes prior. The whole plagues thing sounded like paranoia to me, but my parents had insist that I return from Uni in the Heartland. Even in disease-free countries, it was hitting hard.

"Do you two need a place to stay?"

"We'll be alright" the man said. As the French woman continued crying into his chest, I could see him choke back tears of his own.

My phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Tom, you landed yet?"

"Yeah, why?"

"We'll, what's taking you so long?"

"Customs."

"Damn Imperials colonizing us and they can't even trust their new 'countrymen'?"

"Dad, it's for the plagues can you just... I'll see you soon."

I hung up the phone and proceeded onward towards baggage claim. My father was heavily against the Empire, which is why he didn't trust me to stay in the Heartland and not get myself killed.

I wish Mom was here still to talk sense into that thick head of his.

Sigh.

When I arrived at the merry-go-round of luggage, all 140 kilos of my father embraced me and breathing became temporarily difficult.

"Hey dad, been awhile, huh?"

"It has. I'm glad you're home Tom, I was worried about you down there."

"I know Dad, I know."

"Find your bag and let's get going. Traffic's a nightmare with all these goddamn semi-trucks everywhere. I mean who fills an entire truck full of bananas..."

[Meta] Quick and meh, but I thought someone should look a bit into what quarantine and walling off your country does to people...