We are in the aircraft. Walking around, watching Loudin program the flight plan, exploring.
Something about this feels very wrong.
Loudin is intelligent and he anticipates everything. He knows how Alex and I feel about him. It is impossible that we will simply land in South America and leave Loudin there. I would like to believe it would be that simple. But I know better.
Alex is smiling, asking about how the aircraft is flown, how it lands. He appears confident that our plan is going to proceed smoothly.
I wish I could share his confidence, but a mounting dread fills me.
Being aboard this aircraft does not help. We are completely enclosed. There is a monitor at the front that displays a map, but there is no way to see the outside. I feel trapped. The same emotions I had walking into this aircraft back in New Hope are surging through me now. Loudin acted the same then, kind and happy, as if he were a benevolent leader who truly wants to help others. But that is an act. The truth is he is corrupt, calculating, and he will do anything to ensure his plans are accomplished.
“Smooth, isn’t it?” Loudin sits in a large white chair toward the front of the aircraft. “The autopilot can detect where to find the pockets of air with the least amount of turbulence. And it can get there without us even feeling the change in altitude. It can travel for thousands of miles on one tank of fuel. And if it runs out, the solar panels can provide enough alternate energy to deliver us to our destination.”
“Fascinating.” Alex smiles at Loudin, and I am not sure if he is being genuine or playing along.
“What do you think, Thalli?”
A dozen retorts come into my mind, but none would be appropriate. Or beneficial. So I force myself to smile and say, “Quite an accomplishment by the Engineers.”
“How do these compare to the airplanes from before the War?” Alex leans forward.
“What do you know of those?”
“Only what some of the older citizens of Athens have passed down.” Alex shrugs. “But I have always been intrigued by them.”
Loudin spends the next thirty minutes explaining the physics and mechanics of the primitive airplane versus the modern aircraft. If this conversation were music, it would be a tuba playing the same three notes over and over, as slowly as possible. I close my eyes and imagine playing my violin loud and staccato, the notes going over and around the tuba until it is muted and mine is the only instrument that can be heard.
I hear an A flat over the orchestration in my mind. It is sustained and synthesized. I open my eyes to see Loudin walking to the front of the aircraft.
“Strap yourselves in. It is time to land.”
“Already?” I sit up and press a button on my right. Thin, translucent straps come out of the chair and wrap themselves around my body. “I had no idea the aircraft was that fast.”
Alex leans as far forward as the straps allow, looking at the map at the front. “We aren’t in South America yet.”
“No, we aren’t.” Loudin sits in the chair that faces the map. “We are making a stop first.”
“Why?” I look around. “Is something wrong?”
“Of course not.” Loudin turns, and his profile reminds me of images I have seen on my learning pad of a vulture. “But I am hurt that you think me such a tyrant, Thalli. I want to show you that your suspicions are the product of an overactive imagination, not of reality.”
Loudin’s tone does not match his words. The dread that has been simmering under the surface spreads throughout my entire body. Something is very, very wrong. I turn to Alex. His eyes are wide, questioning. He knows, too, that this—whatever it is—is not good.
Alex speaks first. “Where are we stopping?”
Loudin turns back to the map and touches a slender finger to its surface. “New Hope, of course.”