There are no flights scheduled for America. Nobody has any information from inside my country. I am starting to think something is seriously wrong. I feel terrible for thinking Wallace deserted me. Now I just hope he is alive.
—The diary of Megan Jean
There were no windows in the aircraft. Mia had never been in an airplane before; she thought about her time in the helicopter and told herself that was worse. As the group sat on the hard, cold floor, Mia thought back to the pictures of airplanes she had seen when she was little.
“I always imagined seats,” Mia said.
“What?” Andrew asked.
“Sorry,” Mia said. “I was thinking out loud.”
“This isn’t a commercial airplane,” Zack said.
He stood up from his spot on the floor and went to one of the crates. Zack popped open the lid and took out a piece of fruit.
“This is a shipping airplane,” he said.
Mia remembered going over every detail of the trip, but she had never asked any questions about what type of plane they were flying in.
“Why didn’t you tell us it was this sort of plane?” Mia asked.
Zack shrugged. Mia looked at Andrew.
“Did you know?” she asked.
His brown eyes shifted before settling back in on Mia.
“No idea,” Andrew said. “Does it matter?”
“What happens when we land?” Mia asked.
“France has a large number of American bases,” Zack said. “We hope to get off the plane without running into an American soldier.”
“Why would we run into an American?” Mia asked.
“Part of their strong military presence,” Zack said. “There are usually a small number of American soldiers at all foreign ports. France is a large ally, so it wouldn’t surprise me if America had complete control over their airports. They usually justify it by saying that they’re looking for deserters.”
“And what if we do?” Mia asked.
“You will stay hidden,” Zack said, “until we make sure everything is clear.”
Mia looked at the rest of the group. She didn’t know Bryan or Jesse well. They had been born in Affinity, like Zack. Jesse had a head of curly black hair and Bryan kept his red hair short. The two weren’t paying attention to Mia’s questions. She saw Carter sitting against a wall. His eyes were closed. If he was listening in on the conversation he didn’t care much. Mia frowned; he hadn’t shown much interest in anything the past few weeks. Finally Mia looked to Andrew.
“The entire time exiting the plane was glossed over,” Mia said. “I was more worried about the flight than getting off.”
“You’ll be fine,” Andrew said.
He draped his arm over Mia’s shoulder.
“I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” he said.
Mia looked away. Normally she loved being so close to Andrew, but his words sent a chill down her spine. Mia didn’t want protection, she wanted to help. A sinking feeling set in that there was a lot she wasn’t aware of.