The crew cleaning the tarmac clears off, moving into the shade of the hangar as we climb out of the jeep. I have no luggage. Nothing to take with me except my phone and the key fob. I don’t have any ID. No paperwork for Blue. But I feel like Robert will have thought of all that…he thinks of everything.
My stomach cramps again as I climb out of the jeep and I have to pause, lean against the door, and just breathe, letting the pain pass.
“You okay?” Sophia asks.
“Yeah,” I say as the pain recedes. “I’m fine.”
She’s looking at me with her head cocked, the goggles and mask making the whole thing so apocalyptic I can barely take it. Straightening, I reach out and place my hand on Blue’s ruff. He shifts closer to me, pushing his face into the underside of my belly. My son punches out and Blue nuzzles back. I take in a deep breath. We will survive.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The aircraft touches down onto the tarmac, bumps up once, and then settles into the landing. It’s small with a propeller on its nose and glass roof. The plane taxies to the hangar and the pilot pulls back the roof. He climbs out onto the wing, reaches back in and grabs a backpack, and then drops to the ground.
He comes around the back of the plane and holds a hand up in greeting. Holy Shit. “All-American Air Marshal Petey?”
He smiles. “Mrs. Maxim,” he says as he comes to a stop in front of me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, even as the pieces start to fall into place. Robert hired him, probably in a bid to keep him from asking more questions about me.
“I’m here to pick you up.”
“Right,” I nod. “Of course you are. The world is just a big circle, isn’t it, Petey.”
Sophia and Peter both look at me like maybe I’m drunk. Since I have not slept or eaten in I don’t know how many hours…this is not a surprising outcome.
“Are you ready?” Peter asks.
I look toward the small plane. “It fits four, right?”
“No, I have supplies in the fourth seat. I can just take you and Blue.”
My eyes narrow. “Supplies are more important than getting another person off this island?”
“First of all,” Peter says, his voice calm and even, “I’m not authorized to take other people. Second, we need the supplies—it’s not a rock collection, I assure you. Third, that plane isn’t really weighted for four full-size adults. You, me, Blue, we are about the right amount.”
“We could take a small person,” I argue.
“Sydney,” Sophia pulls my attention back to her. “Merl will send help. You need to go.”
Blue’s nose taps my hip, as if agreeing with her. “Fine,” I say.
Peter nods and holds up the pack. “This is a parachute,” he says. “Have you used one before?”
“No,” I answer. “Will I need to?”
“Let’s hope not. But we are flying in hazardous conditions.”
A shiver of fear runs up my spine, followed by a shooting pain that clenches my jaw. I breathe through my nose, moving through the ache, as Peter explains to me which cords to pull and when. “This,” he says, pointing to what looks like a small round light, “is your tracking beacon. Hit it once you land. This chute has a built-in life vest so you won’t drown, at least not immediately.”
“Not immediately, that’s comforting. What about Blue?” I ask.
Peter’s smile is quick and rueful. “Mr. Maxim said you’d ask. I have a harness for him on mine. So if shit goes sideways, he will jump with me.”
Peter helps put the parachute on me. It straps at my breast and around my thighs, drawing my loose pants tight. Peter grabs the harness for Blue and I help put it on.
Sophia watches, her arms crossed, masked face unreadable. “Ready?” Peter asks.
“Yeah…” I look back at the mountain, my heart sinking, breaking all over again. Sophia’s hand lands on my shoulder, pulling me back.
“See you on the other side,” she says, giving my arm a squeeze. I nod before taking off my goggles and mask and handing them to her. The scent of smoke and sea salt rushes my senses, bringing with it a fresh wave of nausea.
Peter leads us over to the airplane. Climbing up onto the wing takes all my martial arts skills—with a belly this big, a heart this broken, and sleep deprivation this severe, it’s amazing I make it into the seat. But I do. Blue hops into the back, taking one of the two seats, the other occupied by a large black pack.
Peter settles into the pilot’s seat. My belly almost touches the controls in front of me and Blue has to dip his head when Peter pulls the glass hatch back into place. Peter reaches into the pack’s front pocket. He pulls out a cooler bag and holds it out to me.
“What?” I ask, looking at it like it might bite me.
“Food,” Peter says. “Mr. Maxim wanted to make sure you had something.” I blink at him. Peter’s mouth tightens for a moment and then he pushes the bag into my lap. “He was worried you wouldn’t have eaten.”
“I haven’t,” I admit. “I’m not hungry.”
“Eat,” he says. “You need your strength.” I stare at the cooler like it’s a bomb on my lap. “If not for you, then for your son.”
“Don’t talk to me like you know me,” I say, my voice coming out low and dangerous. “We are not friends.”
“I don’t have to be your friend to be aware of biological needs. It’s not heavy. I promise. Some brown rice and boiled chicken. Very mild.”
