Recruits (Keeper of the Water Book 2) (19 page)

If
we survive this flight.

“What are you doing?” the navigator calls from the back once he stops bouncing off the sides of the plane. “Pushing the engines this hard will use up too much fuel. We calculated the exact speed we needed to squeeze every mile out of our fuel supply… whoa!”

Amelia banks the plane the other way, causing my stomach to dip wildly as Fred is thrown against the other wall.

“You’ve been drifting off course ever since you started listening to the stowaway’s crazy ramblings and now you’re flying insane! Do you realize where we’re headed?” the navigator yells from the back, his voice just as full with worry as anger. “What are you
doing?
”

“Living, Fred!” Amelia whoops.

“Maybe he’s right,” I say worriedly. “It might not be such a bad thing to stay on your planned course.”

“Our planned course may have worked out well if it wasn’t for the bad weather in front of us,” Amelia says, pointing to the ever-darkening clouds off to the west. She picks up the radio and flips it on again, trying to find a frequency without heavy static. Smacking the radio doesn’t help this time, especially since she’s much stronger now and seriously dents its metal casing. “Howland Island, come in. I need a weather report. Do you copy? I need a weather report.”

We listen several minutes for a response. At one point, we can almost make out a voice among the static but the sound is too muffled. When Amelia hits the radio again, the metal casing cracks and sparks begin to shoot out of it. I don’t know much about this fancy new technology but I’m pretty sure the radio is never going to work again.

Not that there’s much time to lament on the loss of the plane’s communication system.

“Do you see that?” the navigator asks as he moves toward the front of the cargo hold.

Amelia has steered the plane away from the bad weather in the distance but that doesn’t mean we’re out of danger yet. Fred points to a small formation of flying objects quickly approaching us. At first, I wonder why he’s so concerned about a couple birds heading in our direction. But it’s naïve of me to assume that only wildlife would be occupying the skies.

It doesn’t take long for those ‘birds’ to get close enough for me to recognize them as planes.

“Where could they be from?” Amelia asks, the first time I’ve heard her nervous since meeting her.

“I don’t know
how far
you’ve gone off course while playing games but there’s only one place around here they could’ve come from,” the navigator slurs, trying to keep his balance while searching through his maps. “Saipan.”

“Uh oh,” Amelia whispers.

Those two little words worry me as much as any part of this flight so far, especially since the planes are only seconds away.

“What’s wrong with Saipan?” I ask, unsure whether I want to know the answer.

But there’s no time for explanations, as Amelia mutters two words before the planes open fire.

“Hold on!”

“Hold on!” my recruit tells me.

I might be able to run faster and farther than any human on the planet but the safety straps in the jet fighter’s cockpit make me feel like a fool. My normally nimble hands feel big and clumsy as I try to strap myself in. It doesn’t help that a chorus of cars
honk
on the highway behind us and blaring police sirens quickly approach. I barely
click
in when Amelia yanks on the flight stick and the plane shoots forward, slamming me back against my seat. The force of acceleration wouldn’t let me move whether I was buckled in or not.

As the jet fighter bounces along the highway, cars on the other side of the road veer out of the way. I hope we aren’t causing too much damage behind us, though I couldn’t turn my head to look even if I wanted. I
can
, however, see the road in front of us, the long straightaway section of highway growing shorter and shorter with each millisecond we rocket forward. I doubt the plane can follow the turn in the road just ahead so a crash appears inevitable. Why do I have the feeling that Amelia has a big smile on her face?

Just when I expect us to smash into the trees, my stomach takes a sharp dip and the rough jostling of the highway disappears. The plane lifts off the ground and I still think it might be too late but we merely knock some leaves off a tree before shooting into the sky. Within seconds, we’re climbing through the clouds and the traffic jam on the ground looks no bigger than a line of ants.

“Where did you get this plane?” I ask Amelia.

“Borrowed it,” she says. “Hmm, looks like they want it back.”

A pair of jets screams at us across the sky. I have a feeling this ride is going to get
much
trickier.

“Did you
steal
this plane?”

“Borrowed, Mentor, I
borrowed
it,” she says. “Over the last few years, I’ve been responsible for over ninety percent of this country’s stolen… err…
borrowed
planes. I always give them back once I’m done. I mean, I
do
need practice flying these newer model planes. How else would I have the skills to do this?”

Up ahead, the two jets open fire, hundreds of bullets shooting toward us, looking like countless blasts of speeding light. Amelia jerks the plane to one side and then back the other way. I feel just as helpless as the first time I stepped foot on a plane; maybe I should’ve learned my lesson to stay away from flying.

We barrel roll several times before leveling out, though I no longer know which way is up and which way is down. Either way, we’re still airborne so I’m relieved for that… at least for the moment.

“This thing handles like a dream,” Amelia says calmly, as though we were out for a leisurely flight. “But I have to admit that I preferred the biplane from yesterday; that finally ran out of fuel as I was following you guys south. Wish I could’ve flown it longer. It reminded me of the good ol’ days.”

Her calmness doesn’t make me feel any less tense but I’ll do
anything
to keep my mind preoccupied from the United States Air Force trying to blow us out of the sky.

“You steal from the military, too? Wasn’t that hard?” I ask.

Amelia shrugs. “What can I say? I’m good. But that’s what took me so long to get to you. I landed the biplane and found other means of transportation to follow you but I started falling behind. Once I saw the first signal go up, an Air Force base was the closest place with planes. Security is a little tougher to get past than other airports but I did it. Unfortunately, it took me a while to find you running – I wasn’t expecting you to be this far north. I’ve flown along the entire eastern seaboard looking for the second signal. I’m surprised it took them this long to find me.”

The other jets circle around to make a second pass.

“Just get us out of here alive,” I tell her.

“Of course, Mentor. Where are we headed?” Amelia asks.

But before I have the chance to answer, a very stern-sounding voice echoes inside our plane.

“Land immediately or we
will
shoot you out of the sky,” says the voice. I assume it belongs to one of the approaching pilots. “You may have gotten lucky the first time but we
won’t
miss again.”

“So?” Amelia asks, turning to look back at me. “Where do you want to go?”

“Shouldn’t you answer them?” I ask incredulously.

She shrugs and turns back around to look forward.

“I suppose you’re right, Mentor,” Amelia says, reaching for the comm system’s transmit button. “No, leave us alone and you’ll get your plane back in one piece.”

The other pilot begins to give us another warning but my recruit pushes a button and cuts off the sound of his voice.

“Now where were we, Mentor?” she asks. “Oh yeah, where are we headed?”

I remember Amelia being a bit eccentric when I first met her but now she seems out of her mind. But there’s no time to sit here and argue about her sanity.

“Back to the Poconos,” I say quickly.

Since we went through so much trouble to
leave
the Poconos just yesterday, I expect Amelia to question why I want to return. In fact, this insane flight nearly makes
me
forget why I want to go back – or why I decided that flying is a better option than the safety of my own two legs.

“North it is,” Amelia says, banking to the right to aim the plane due north. “And would you look at that. Looks like this direction is going to send us into a bit of traffic.”

An involuntary groan escapes my lips. Speeding toward us on our new path is the other two fighter planes, guns blazing…

-
- - - - - - - - - - -

Through Electra’s cockpit window, the planes speeding toward us are close enough for me to see the same symbol plastered on the sides of them both: a white square with a large red dot in the middle. I may not exactly be worldly but I’ve spent enough time on recruiting trips to pick up on
some
things, such as the flag of Japan.

Not that I have time to ask why they’re opening fire on us. Luckily, Amelia’s flight intuition has been enhanced along with the rest of her physical abilities; I suddenly wish I’d let her drink
all
of the water. She turns the plane just as the first bullets reach us and
ping
harmlessly off the side of the plane.

“You can’t fight them!” Fred yells from the back. “We don’t have any weapons. You have to surrender.”

“Does it look like they’re ready to accept the white flag?” Amelia asks as the Japanese fighters circle around for another attack run. Since Fred isn’t strapped in, he doesn’t have time to complain when another turn sends him stumbling across the cargo hold again.

The other planes are much smaller and faster than Electra, much more maneuverable. But Amelia is a step ahead of their every move, zigging when they zag, flying up when they shoot down, making it nearly impossible for them to get a clear shot at us. She actually has a smile on her face throughout the entire chase, even though a single wrong move could blow us out of the sky. My stomach churned enough during the smooth part of this flight so it’s no wonder I’m on the verge of becoming sick. There’s no amount of special water I could drink to make me feel better.

“Over there!” I yell after spotting something through the clouds below.

Among the vast blueness of the Pacific Ocean is the dot of an island. I immediately feel better at the sight of land, though that relief doesn’t last long. No matter how skilled of a pilot Amelia is, her plane faces serious limitations compared to the combat planes. She avoids most of the shots fired at us but not all. Several bullets rip through the fuselage and Fred hits the floor, groaning in anguish. I look back and see him holding up his flask, punctured by a bullet, leaking brownish liquid all over his maps.

Fire suddenly engulfs the wing’s engine on Amelia’s side of the plane.

“Looks like it’s time to land,” she says, turning the plane toward the small island.

“Do you
know
what they’ll do to us if we land on Saipan?” Fred asks desperately.

“Can’t be as bad as crashing into the ocean!” Amelia yells, finally beginning to lose her cool. “Our friends aren’t far behind. This is going to be close!”

This is the first time I’ve heard fear strain Amelia’s voice. The lone engine whines as she pushes it to maximum speed but another round of bullets strafes us from behind and Amelia points to the fuel gauge, its needle suddenly plunging. It doesn’t need to be said that the combat planes have pierced the fuel tanks.

Electra all but drops out of the sky, my ears popping as we quickly descend. In the matter of seconds, the tiny green dot of an island becomes much larger as we cut the distance between us. I pray to Mother Earth to keep us safe and vow to never fly in a plane again, to never leave the safety of firm ground beneath my two feet. Give me five seconds on the ground with the combat planes’ pilots and I have
no doubt
I’d teach them who’s in charge…

Another bullet rips through the plane, entering the back of Amelia’s seat and exploding through her shoulder. The Electra’s windshield in front of us is splattered with blood that exploded from my potential recruit. Our plane jerks downward and time seems to slow, giving me a good long look at the watery grave rushing toward us. Amelia groans but it’s not weak or pained; it’s closer to a growl of anger. She pulls the plane out of its nosedive just before we skim the surface of the waves.

Whether Fred sees or not, I remove the vial from my pocket and quickly sprinkle a few drops on Amelia’s shoulder, unable to do so with the care usually required. I don’t know if this will still work but there’s only enough time to try this. Amelia somehow keeps the plane steady despite heavy blood loss so I quickly force her to drink the rest of the water.

“This is going to hurt,” I warn her.

No sooner do I speak those words when Amelia’s back spasms and she arches in her seat. She pulls back on the plane’s controls and for a moment, we shoot back toward the sky.

“Take the controls…” Amelia says through gritted teeth. “Don’t want to stall…”

For a second I’m frozen in fear and want nothing to do with flying the plane; I never even drove one of those new automobiles. But she lets go of the controls, leaving me no choice. I lean across her and push the controls forward, stopping our dangerous ascent through the clouds. It takes all my concentration to keep us steady. I don’t even want to think about the pair of attack planes or how close behind us they are.

The knot momentarily loosens in my stomach. I push the controls slightly to the left and feel the plane follow my lead, reacting to my every movement. I finally understand why someone could love the feeling of flying, though I’d still prefer controlling
myself
instead of a machine.

“I can take over from here,” Amelia says.

I was so focused on flying that I didn’t realize she stopped shaking. Though her leather jacket is bloody and ripped where the bullet exited her, the flow of blood has stopped. I recognize the look of determination in her eyes and she takes back control of the plane from my shaky grasp.

“I’ll take it from here,” she says, her voice icily calm despite the planes descending upon us for the kill.

Amelia needs only a quick glance behind us to get her bearings before pulling back on the engine’s power, causing us to slow dramatically.

“Are you crazy? They’re right behind us!” Fred yells. “And we need to hurry up and get to the island before the rest of our fuel leaks.”

Electra’s engines have slowed so much that we all hear the sound of the attack planes flying down at us, their guns blazing.

“Watch this,” Amelia says.

She pulls up just as the Japanese fighters approach. My heart leaps into my throat when I realize what she’s about to do; drinking the special water
does
make a girl feel invincible. The other planes move so fast that they can’t avoid Electra when Amelia flies directly into their path. Electra might be much slower than them but she’s also much bigger, much heavier.

We collide with the first plane and my body jerks out of the seat. Somewhere in the back, I hear Fred cursing as he crashes to the floor. But Amelia remains firmly in her seat. I look through the window just in time to see a huge chunk of debris whip across our view. I worry it’s from Electra but see one of the Japanese fighter planes – suddenly missing an entire wing – veer off to the side, crashing into the second plane.

In the matter of seconds, we’ve gone from being sitting ducks to being free from pursuers. I want to cry out in relief…
until
our other engine cuts off.

-
- - - - - - - - - - -

I thought my plane ride aboard the Electra was harrowing but it’s nothing compared to the experience of being in an Air Force jet. Flying in the old silver plane made my insides do flips and nearly caused me to lose the contents of my stomach. Flying in a
jet
, however, affects my head more than my stomach. Amelia is just as skilled in this jet as she’d been in the older planes but this time we move
much
faster. We roll and bank across the sky, speeding up and slowing down to avoid being an easy target. At least that’s what I assume.