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“Name’s Dalton,” said the blond man as he studied me, no doubt taking in the color of my eyes and reading my first question. He turned his sights on the girl across from us. “Are you all right, Maia?”
The girl, Maia, had dark, almond-shaped eyes and a round face. Raising a hand to her shoulder, she pulled the bloody shirt collar back to reveal a red scabbed bullet hole just above her heart. Dalton’s expression tightened. He glanced at me, his lack of surprise evidence that he knew exactly who I was and what I had done.
“I suppose a thank you is in order. But I’ll save that for later. Right now, you need to hear me out.” He settled into the seat next to Maia and I sensed the girl’s immediate relief at his proximity—not romantic, but as if he was home for her—just as my Uncle Sam was home for me. The one person I could count on to make me feel safe in the world. As I was about to start missing him more than ever and worrying I’d never reach home in time to warn him of Malevich’s plans, Dalton’s next sentence threw me.
“Your uncle sent me to find you.”
“Sam? You talked to him?” My heart raced into overdrive. “But how...?”
He put up his hand again. “He told me you don’t like taking orders. Let me finish.”
I clamped down on my teeth, holding back the million questions bubbling to the surface.
“That’s better.” Nodding, he continued. “When Sam didn’t hear from you after your mission, he figured you might have run into trouble getting out of Vegas. He contacted me through the Network and asked me to find you. Once he gave me the code to your GPS tracking device, it wasn’t too difficult. I almost intercepted you at the boarding house in Amarillo, but the timing didn’t seem quite right.” A sarcastic grin spread across his face, revealing slightly crooked, but healthy teeth. He looked to be about ten years younger than Sam, making me wonder how they would have met. I studied the smile that softened his hard jawline and deepened the cleft in his chin.
Still suspicious, I couldn’t help myself. “How do you and Sam know each other?”
“Let’s just say I owe Sam a debt and he’s collecting.” He glanced toward the cockpit. “I should get back. I don’t trust the autopilot on these things.”
“You mean no one is flying the plane?” Garnet spoke up, her voice pitched high as she darted a glance out the window to the land far below. She’d been quiet since Dalton had threatened us with Maia’s fate of having her tongue cut out—obviously a story for another time.
Dalton stood. “I’m afraid it’s just us.” He laid a hand on Maia’s and her expression warmed as he addressed her. “Come be my copilot. I need to make sure no one is on our tail and get this bird off the radar before they set the drones on us.” She nodded, stood on wobbly legs, and then faced off with Garnet, her stare icy and her hand out.
Reluctantly, Garnet handed over the stunner, meeting Maia’s glare but, to her credit, said nothing.
“Graves probably already has drones in the air,” said Tyler, apparently no longer concerned about opening his mouth either. “How are you going to escape them?”
Dalton eyed each of us, a slight smile appearing. “You let me worry about that.”
Tyler’s eyes widened and his face paled, but he closed his mouth again.
“All you need to know,” added Dalton, “is when the plane drops, tuck your head between your knees and say a prayer.” Leaving us all staring after him, he headed for the cockpit, Maia at his back. Barely loud enough to hear, he muttered, “Now, I need to find a place to crash this baby.”
∞∞∞
I changed seats with Garnet, who decided that sitting next to a window watching the ground rise to meet us wasn’t for her. Tyler and I, however, were glued to the scenery below, everything growing larger by the minute. Despite the impending danger, for the first time in my life, I saw the world anew, captivated by its beauty. Seen from high above the earth, the devastation disappeared, revealing the majesty of nature on its way to reclaiming the planet. The sandy brown of the desert west gave way to hills, thick forests, and clear blue lakes—which appeared as large puddles speckling the landscape. An orange glow from the late afternoon sun bathed everything in golden light.
Through the far window, in the distance to the south, lay the dark swamps, stretching out to what was once the Gulf coastline. I was about to point them out to Tyler when the jet banked hard to the left and my stomach lurched. The plane tipped. Garnet squealed and ducked her head between her knees, already praying, “Oh, God, oh God, oh God...”
Tyler doubled over, his head disappearing turtle-like beneath his arms.
My fingers clamped down on the arm rests and I gritted my teeth. The plane slowly righted itself, in spite of how fast it was falling. I sucked in a tight breath, ready to trust the worst was over. But my heart already sensed what was coming. Treetops drew closer as I dared a glance out the window, the thick forest below offering no open area to set down. I heard the landing gear engage. The plane shook as it decelerated, rattling my teeth and causing every muscle in my body to seize. Seconds turned to minutes as pressure in my ears and in my lungs forced my eyes closed.
I braced for impact.
A thunderous scraping sound grated through me as we tore through trees, and something hard hit me in the head. I had a second to feel the shock of pain and the warmth of blood dripping down my forehead. On the verge of passing out, I sucked in a deep breath and ducked my head between my knees—and prayed.
