Chapter 5 UNWANTED TRIP.

CHAPTER 5: UNWANTED TRIP.

Michael jerked awake from his slumber. He felt as though something shook him.

"Mmm! Why does my head hurt?" he groaned softly, shutting his eyes tightly. His head banged terribly. It was a double dose affliction of both the hangover and the concussion behind his head.

"What the hell happened? Did a train run over me?" he asked rhetorically. Yawning, he opened his eyes but squinted as he did. The lights seemed to be too bright for him, although the lights were just normal.

Able to accommodate the supposed brightness of the light, he saw that he was in a strange room.

"Where the hell am I?" he asked himself, observing the place.

The room was tastefully finished, with high-quality materials and decor. But it looked smaller than a regular room.

"I hope this isn't some deja Vu or some time loop crap?" he said. Then he quickly checked his head and saw that the bandage was still tied. So he sighed in relief.

"Your name! What's your name?" he asked himself, a bit fidgety.

"Michael," he said and sighed once again in relief.

"But where the hell am I?" he asked, again, as he looked round.

He saw a door a few steps away from him approached it, and placed his hand on the doorknob.

He was a bit hesitant but went ahead to turn the knob and walked out. He was immediately halted, stunned a bit.

"Hey. You're finally awake. I was afraid the turbulence would wake you up."

"Uh- Sorry, but who are you?" Michael asked, furrowing his brow. As he looked round, he realized he was on board a private jet, and in motion.

"And what the hell am I doing flying in this jet, with you?" Michael questioned angrily but was perplexed all the same.

"Don't you remember what happened last night? Don't you remember me?"

Michael looked at him intently, trying to recall the events of the previous night.

"I remember you! You're the guy I spoke with at the bar."

"Attaboy! Am glad you do remember," the stranger replied, sipping on a glass of champagne.

"Oh, I bet you don't recall how wasted you were, do you?"

"I was, wasn't I? No wonder I woke up feeling hungover," Michael responded.

Michael was able to recall what the stranger was wearing. It was the same outfit he was still wearing. A navy blue suit with white stripes.

His blonde hair was properly cut and styled, suiting his slender oval-shaped head. He had no facial hairs at all either.

A flight attendant walked toward them placed a bowl of soup on a table and turned to Michael.

"Sir, here's a remedy to help with your hangover," she said with a generous smile, gesturing at the soup. She then bowed and walked away.

Michael didn't know what to make of such a show of respect. By the time he attempted to say "thank you", she had left their presence.

"Come on, have a seat," the stranger said, pointing at the seat in front of him, where the soup was placed.

Michael went ahead to sit down, calmly.

"I think you should take the soup," he said.

Michael went ahead to slurp some of it. It tasted awful, but he still went on to drink it anyway.

He sighed, wiping his mouth with a napkin the attendant had placed beside the soup, and looked at the young man sitting before him.

He reckoned they were within the same age range.

"Now, to answer the question I see you're itching to ask so badly. My name is Vladimir, but you can call me Vlad, just the way you usually do."

"Are you inferring we know each other?" Michael asked, surprisedly.

"Are you troubled because the person who claimed to be your best friend was getting it hot with your wife? I mean, ex-wife?"

"How did you know that?" Michael asked, even more surprised this time.

"Buddy, I know a whole lot of things. But I'm in no position to say certain things. Someone more suitable will," Vlad answered.

"And who would that be?" Michael enquired.

Vlad looked at him with a smirk.

"Still as inquisitive as ever I see. I guess there are some things even amnesia can't make you forget."

Michael sighed softly, looking at Vlad, anticipating an answer to his question.

"The person who'll answer all your questions is your father."

Michael's eyes widened in surprise.

"My father?"

"Yup!" Vlad nodded. "And that's why we're headed to Russia, to see dear old daddy," Vlad revealed, gulping down the rest of the champagne, leaning into his seat.

"Get yourself comfortable, because it's going to be a long flight," Vlad said, sighing, as he closed his eyes.

Michael also leaned into his seat and looked out the window. He could see the white clouds underneath them. He didn't know what to say or do at the moment. All he could do was buckle up for all that lay ahead of him.

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After long hours, thousands of meters above sea level, the private jet finally touched down in Moscow. They landed at a private hangar.

Michael barely slept all through the flight after he spoke with Vlad. His eagerness and the mysteriousness that surrounded him wouldn't let him find rest. He was anxious to get answers.

The flight attendant helped to open the jet, as Vlad led Michael out.

The moment Michael stepped out, he was greeted with a gentle gust of wind, but it was extremely cold. It sent instant shivers throughout his body. But he did his best to not show it.

Michael saw that three SUVs were parked in the hangar, and some hefty-looking men in black suits approached them and bowed.

"You're welcome back, boss," one of them said. Michael didn't even look at the man while he greeted him. But Vlad nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

Then Vlad began speaking Russian with him. Michael was surprised to find that he could understand every word they said. This made him begin to believe even more that Vlad wasn't lying after all.

"Let's go. Your father awaits," Vlad said, as he led Michael to the car.

One of the men opened the car door for him. He got in, then they drove off.

As they drove through the streets of Russia, Michael looked out the window and was amazed at how beautiful the place was. He was truly impressed with the infrastructure.

"Cast aside anxiety. He's your father," Vlad said, drawing Michael's attention.

Michael nodded in acknowledgment. He couldn't wait to get the answers he so longed for.