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THE DRONE OF THE CESSNA’S single engine vibrated the cushion, shaking him awake with a groan of pain. Mitch moaned at the sharp stabbing sensation that throbbed at the back of his head. He reached back with his right hand to examine the lump he was sure stuck out of his hair, but could not as his hands were bound in front of him. His eyes opened to a blue leather pilot’s chair, separated from him by a glass partition. The grey head of the pilot swiveled to the side, glancing into the back seat. Mitch caught sight of a curling grey mustache adorning his upper lip. The co-pilot’s chair was empty.
“Relax, Mitch. There is no place to go and any attempt to attack me will result in both of us dead. Enjoy the flight. We will be landing in about ten minutes.”
“Where are you taking me? What is the meaning of this?” Mitch rolled onto his back and held his bound hands up in front of his face. The tie had cut deep into his left wrist and a trail of smeared dried blood ran down his arm. An inaudible growl caught in his throat at the sight.
“You have been dabbling in things you shouldn’t have. We have some questions for you, that is all. I can feel it when you roll on that seat. Now lay still unless you want to unbalance this plane.”
“Who are we? Who are you?” Mitch ignored the advice, glaring at his captor.
“All will become clear when we land.” The pilot turned back to face the windscreen and ignored Mitch. It was a clear dismissal. He had no intention of passing on further information, and to prove the point he switched on his console and suddenly the plane was filled with the sound of an old rock song. The ADF receiver had zeroed in on the unmanned radio station signal that played continuously from the station located in Melona. Mitch knew it was the case because he had listened to it for years. The song always skipped at a particular interval, and sure enough, as soon as it reached that spot, it passed over an entire verse of the song. He smiled, know knowing his approximate location. He craned his neck to confirm the location of the sun in the sky. We are flying northwest over Melona. If we do not lose the signal, then I know we are within a hundred mile radius of the town, and in that direction lies...the government warehouses. A frisson of alarm skittered down his back. Damn, have they found me out?
The plane droned on, flying into the darkening sky as the sun coursed through its daily track. The music faded away and Mitch’s heart sank. They were going further than he thought. Perhaps it was the government but his first guess proved wrong. Mitch shifted onto his side and his eyes closed, lulled by the hum of engine and the need to escape from his splitting head ache.
He awoke to the sensation of the burlap sack being pulled down over his head once again. He was hauled up off the seat and out of the plane, stumbling for a second as he gained his balance. Hands grabbed either arm and lead him away. Through the bottom of the sack, he could see the runway was grass, not pavement. A rural landing strip, he guessed. He did not resist his silent escort and when he heard a car door open, he paused. A hand on the back of his neck forced him to duck inside the open doorway and he settled onto the back seat of a car. The door slammed and the car engine purred to life and drove away. He tried to peer around under the sack but suddenly it was pulled from his head. Seated beside him in the back of the Lincoln was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Regal, like a queen, she sat straight backed, her nose wrinkling in her narrow, pale face.
It dawned on Mitch that he smelled like a bar fight without the booze, all sweat and blood and that undeniable stench of things gone sour. He also realized that he was parched, his throat drier than a spider’s last meal.
“I apologize for my state of, uh, or lack of a recent shower. The express trip across the badlands had no rest stops,” he croaked, leaning away from the woman.
She sniffed, tucking a stray strand of ebony hair ribboned with grey behind a delicate ear. She raised one brow and said “Understandable. Give me your wrists.”
Mitch held out his wrists. The woman pulled a knife from her pocket and sawed through the plastic strip. He winced at the pressure as she worked on the binding, which snapped, freeing his wrists. The relief mixed with fresh pain and the cuts oozed. She dropped the restraints into a bag and handed him some baby wipes. Mitch washed his injured wrists, depositing the soiled sheets in the bag.
“Hold out your hands again.” He did as commanded.
“Who are you?” asked Mitch. As his voice croaked, her eyes met his. They were a vivid green. I could drown in those eyes, he thought, as she smoothed an antibiotic cream on the cuts, and then wrapped a soft gauze around the wounds.
“I am Maria,” she said simply. She taped the ends and then handed him a thermos of water.
Grateful for the cool liquid, he drank his fill before handing the mostly empty thermos back to her.
“Keep it,” she said ignoring his attempt. She settled back in her seat, gazing out the window. “I apologize for the rough treatment, Mitch. We did not intend to hurt you. Only secure your cooperation. They,” she waved a manicured hand at the out of sight plane, “were meant to bring you, regardless of your wishes, but they were a little too enthusiastic in their instructions.”
“You still know more about me than I do you. Are you government?” At the negative shake of her lovely head, he said “a spy for a faction? The leader of a faction?”
She hesitated at his words. He could see that she was struggling with what to say. “Not in the way you think.” She watched the passing scenery out the window for a moment, then with a sigh, turned back to Mitch. “A long time ago, my identity was changed, to protect all involved,” she said in a quiet voice. “I go by Maria Mainz now, but I was born Ellen Maria Gainsborough. I believe you have been looking for me.”
Mitch stared at her in complete shock. Avalon and Alexa’s mother?
Her eyes flicked over to him, gauging his reaction, and then she looked away, embarrassed.
“I don’t know what to say. Believe me, this is a first. I searched for you for years! Every lead went cold. Every trail a dead end. I had the full might of the police department at my fingertips. We finally closed it down as an unsolved missing person’s case.” Mitch shook his head. “Was this all staged? Was the kidnapping fake? Was your disappearance a fraud? You left your children behind, to starve!” Mitch’s voice rose in anger. “Avalon, Alexa. How could you abandon them like that?” The last words came out in an angry shout and Mitch heard the click of hammer on a gun being cocked, ready to fire. He made himself relax, pushing himself back into the seat, but still his fists clenched with anger.
Ellen had tensed at his tirade, but she hadn’t turned around. At the click of the hammer however, she leaned forward and put a hand on the shoulder of the man in the driver’s seat.
“Don’t, Albert. He has the right to be angry. He does not mean to harm us.” She squeezed his shoulder.
He tensed under her touch, then took his right hand off the gun and placed it back on the wheel. He did not relax his guard. Angry black eyes stared at Mitch from under heavy dark brows, reflected in the rear view mirror.
Mitch’s narrowed eyes moved between the pair. “You have a lot of explaining to do, both of you. Is this why you have gone to such lengths to get me here? So you could talk to me in secret away from prying eyes?”
Albert answered his question. “Yes. You are being brought to our hideout. It also doubles as the headquarters of the SOS. We have questions to ask you, but we couldn’t risk being seen in the open, not for you, not for the kids. The world must believe we are dead.”
He spun the wheel, taking a rutted lane off the quiet road, and meandering back through the underbrush to the base of a railroad trestle. Mitch’s eyes wandered the scene, trying to figure out where they were headed. It looked more like a good place for an execution, than a hideaway. His gaze settled on Ellen’s rigid profile. She was the very likeness of Avalon, a child she had not seen in five years.
“You look just like Avalon,” he said. “She is a miniature you.”
Ellen’s face turned towards him. Unshed tears, held firmly in check, sparkled in her eyes. “Thank you. I am sure she is very beautiful.” She turned away again, to stare out the window as her husband steered the car underneath the trestle and straight toward a wall of stone. “How are they?”
Alarmed, Mitch did not hear her reply. Instead, he cried out as he ducked behind the front seat, but the anticipated impact did not occur. The car shot right through the wall. Heart beating very fast, his rationale caught up to his instincts and he sat up. “What the hell was that?” he gasped. They were inside a cave hollowed out of the hillside. The large metal structure could have housed the plane they had flown him here in, not unlike the silo facility he had just left. People in farming gear and lab coats moved to and fro, pushing carts loaded with burlap sacks or driving tractors hauling plows or seeders. No one paid them any heed. They went about their duties unconcerned about the stranger in their midst.
“A hologram. It is a very expensive piece of deception. We stole it from the government,” said Albert.
The car eased to a stop by a door. Albert put it into park and then turned around to look him full in the face for the first time. Lines of worry had dug deep furrows into the once youthful face and his hair was liberally sprinkled with grey.
“Welcome to the secret facilities of the SOS, the ‘Seeds Of Survival’ initiative. It is our most important facility.” Mitch took a deep breath to slow his racing heart, then nodded acceptance of the welcome. He had found them, or rather they had found him. Avalon and Alexa would be so happy. Their parents were alive!