Dribs and Drabs: I'm on Dial-up
"Where are you going?"
"Well, we're not."
Deke looked around the almost-empty plane, then back at the co-pilot's head poking through the curtain dividing the cockpit from the cabin, shrugged his shoulders and grabbed his duffle. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking around, but the few folks who had been on the flight from San Diego with him were already out of sight. He shrugged and headed across the tarmac to the terminal.
He was almost to the door when an airline employee came out and made a beeline towards him. "Are you the passenger continuing on to Fresno?"
"Uh, yeah, I'm just not sure which plane I'm supposed to take." He had been sure in San Diego, however, as his ticket indicated a direct flight. Landing at Burbank had been a complete surprise, but if a road-trip didn't throw a few curveballs your way, it wasn't really a very good trip in Deke's book.
"The plane to Fresno is getting ready to leave. Did you check any luggage?"
"Okay; let's go!" The man took off at an almost-run, away from the terminal and toward the empty expanse of asphalt. Deke followed, jogging along with his duffle wedged under his arm.