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The car hovered, then rose into the air above the treetops and the pristine lawn. There was no sign of battle. Even the side of the prison had been repaired and—
Tim and Lance disappeared. The car disappeared. I disappeared.
I yelped, grabbing for Lance’s wrist. I heard him gag and another wave of nausea passed through me. I was invisible, flying, and for the first time in my life—motion sick.
The earth sped beneath us, leaving behind the mountain and suburbs for sea.
Whoever these guys were, they weren’t Special Forces or E-Leadership, or anyone I’d ever heard of. These so-called rebels could do whatever they wanted with us and the Community wouldn’t be there to help.
I cradled my arms over my stomach. These rebels and their “powers” seemed far too real to be some hallucination. I reached my hand out and hesitantly patted where Lance’s knee should’ve been.
“Jenna?”
“Are we... are we flying?” I whispered.
“I think so.”
He saw it too. I stared at the ground zipping below us. “So... this is real.”
“Yeah.”
I let out a breath and exhaustion took over. Half an hour later, I woke to a sharp nudge in the ribs.
Hidden in the clouds, a small, pale object grew distinctively in size. It soon became recognizable as a large dirigible hovering between dark, velvety blue thunderheads. Tim let out an excited breath and my jaw dropped at the close-up.
The dirigible looked like one of the original E-Leadership models. Nothing near as fancy as what Commander Rick flew, but massive compared to the car. The whole vessel had been painted with muted colors: gray, blue, and brown, all masking its once imposing framework. A symbol had been spray painted across the side of the metal envelope: a full yellow circle with the upper half of a blue stick figure raising its arms under an upside down “U.” Below the rigid, air-filled envelope, a large gondola supported three levels to the airship. Three jet engines were fixed to the back: two on either side and one directly underneath.
I felt Lance lean forward. “That’s not Community. Where’d they get it?”
“You see it, too?” I asked.
“Kind of hard to miss a giant airship.”
Not a hallucination, then.
Two large, paneled doors slid around the front of the airship’s lower decks. The car flew under ornate glass windows, and the whole landing went far smoother than I expected. We set down with a soft thump before going visible.
“Everybody out,” Inese called.
Lance scooted out and helped me stagger to my feet. “You all right?”
I glared at him. “I tested positive for theophrenia, spent who-knows-how-long in a cooler, and now I’m standing on a rebel airship that may or might not be real. What do you think?”
“I don’t know about you, but I think he’s going to be really sad if this isn’t real.” Lance jerked his thumb at Tim, who circled some sort of old, beat-up helicopter on the other side of the corrugated metal room. The rusted contraption consisted of an egg-shaped, brown pod beneath a series of cone-like rotors.
I doubted it could fly.
“Whirligig,” Inese said, amused. “Car’s more practical, considering how slow this thing is.”
No kidding. The whirligig looked like it’d fall apart the moment anyone tried to start it. But Tim’s eyes lit up when he poked the lowest rotor and the metal spun freely. I sighed. Give him any sort of tech or a girl’s attention—in this case, both—and he’d be happy. Never mind that we might be losing our minds.
A loud clang echoed through the room as the car door slammed shut. Jack spun around and pointed a clawless finger at Pops. “What happened back there?”
I blinked. Hadn’t he had claws earlier today?
“Why didn’t you tell us the Camaraderie would be there two days early?” Jack demanded.
Two days early? Camaraderie? I edged closer to Lance, who kept his hand tentatively on the pommel of his sword. But none of these people seemed to notice.
Pops leaned against his cane, testing his words before he spoke. “I expected them to show up the day of the scan. Not before.”
Jack shook his head, his lips twisted in anger. “You thought wrong. Don’t expect me to tell Crush that his brother isn’t coming back.”
He started up the metal stairs, then froze.
A young, lean man in a gray and black jumpsuit stood at the top of the stairs, his mouth parted in surprise. He had pale blond hair, and he looked a lot like Alec. Jack glanced at Pops. His rage was gone, but not the accusation. “Never mind. I guess I just did.” He stormed up the stairs and slammed the inner door behind him.
Crush didn’t move from the railing. “Not coming back?”
“Alec and Chill didn’t make it,” Pops said quietly. “Unfortunately their bodies were removed by the time we escaped.”
Crush swallowed hard. “I—excuse me.” He turned and pushed through the door. It swung and hit the wall hard enough to echo.
Inese cursed under her breath and chased after him, leaving the rest of us alone in the hangar with Pops. A high-altitude chill seeped through the closing hangar door, and with it, a glimpse of the dark, endless sky.
Goosebumps rose on my skin. I wished the hangar bay door would hurry and close. The airship seemed rickety enough without having the door open. Its inner framework consisted of metal bars and copper plates welded precariously to the original components. A bare wire dangled from an overhead ceiling light, and the rest of the lights offered a florescent purple cast. They weren’t even using LEDs here.
E-leadership would never have let this workmanship pass. My mom once had to scrap an idea just because the engine room showed pipes. But these guys didn’t seem to care. We were a long way from the ground... and the Community. A long way from safety, security, and efficiency.
I shivered. The electric tang of storm and moisture lingered, and everything around here felt too real to be a hallucination. If this was real, then the commander had been lying to us. And if theophrenia’s so-called hallucinations were actually powers, then what happened to everyone who failed the treatment?
I glanced at Pops. “So... you’re Dr. Nickolai Nickleson. My grandfather.”
He rubbed his forehead gingerly. “Please, just call me Pops.”
I frowned. They weren’t treating us like prisoners, but none of us knew how to fly the whirligig or this flying car-thing, which left us uncomfortably at their mercy. They didn’t have to treat us like prisoners for us to be hostage.
“What are you going to do with us?” My voice sounded too loud in the room’s creaking silence. “Are we prisoners?”
Pops shook his head. “No, you are our guests. We aren’t going to hurt you.”
“But who are you?” I asked. “Rebels?”
“We’re the Coalition of Freedom. We do what we can to protect people from the Camaraderie. Small acts of sabotage, providing intel to larger organizations... things like that.”
“Coalition of Freedom?” Lance asked.
Pops nodded. “Let me introduce you to Jim. He’s been around since the beginning. He can give you a better idea of what the world’s really like.”
“So we’ll get our answers?”
Pops nodded and motioned us toward the stairs.
I glanced around the hangar. This place shouldn’t exist. After the fall of the rebel base in Australia, the rebels were gone. No more attacks. World peace.
Yet here I was, standing on a rebel airship, uncomfortably sure that all of this was far too real.
