“Julio, we don’t have time!” Ambrose struggled out of the seat to follow him. His watch started to blink the silent alarm. Time was up.
In the distance, the alarms sounded. The hanger suddenly filled with blinding overhead lights, twenty feet above him in the domed hanger.
“This work?” Julio was standing fifteen feet away, by a large shelf. He hoisted a black tank over his head.
“Is that plane oil?” Ambrose yelled. There was no sense in being quiet now.
“Who knows. Get that engine open, and say some prayers, ese!”
Ambrose propped open the engine and located the oil tank. Julio tossed him the black container, which was ridiculously light. Not enough, Ambrose thought, but he was out of time.
Voices screamed orders, and the racing of vehicles echoed through the thin walls of the hanger.
“Hurry up, Goddamn it!” Julio climbed back in the plane.
Ambrose finished with the oil and tossed the plastic away from him. Slamming the engine door, he slid into the seat and pulled the buckles over him and slammed the receiver headset on his head. Julio was doing the same.
They taxied out of the hanger just as four soldiers appeared at the entrance, guns loaded. No blue glow, Ambrose saw briefly out of the corner of his eye. Shots rang out, but Ambrose mowed through the solders, many of them ducking out of the way, much to his relief. The plane wheels bumped against the pavement, as Ambrose fought to steady the wheel. Bursting out of the hanger, he tilted the wheel to the left and onto the runway.
At the far end, a firetruck and three Humvees blocked his path, all with automatic weapons pointed straight at them. Someone on a megaphone radio demanded they stop and surrender.
“We’ll never make it,” Ambrose yelled into the headset.
“Get this bitch in the air!” Julio screamed back.
“I’m trying!” Ambrose gripped the wheel tightly and pulled back, throwing the throttle harder than he should have, as he yanked the break free.
Too late, Ambrose realized one of the Humvees had the blue glow of the vaporizing weapon strapped to the top. He’d seen it take out men, women, and entire cars – but an airplane? He didn’t want to take that chance, not in a million years.
He banked to the right, but the wheel was unresponsive. The wheels began to lift off the ground, a hundred feet away from the blockage at the end of the runway.
“Holy shit. Hang on!” Ambrose forced himself to keep his eyes open. He sucked in a breath and pushed the throttle, opening it all the way, praying it wouldn’t stall and drop them out of the sky.
The wheels screeched as they clanked against the top of the Humvee. Even over the roar of the engine, Ambrose could hear the soldiers screaming. Why wasn’t the vaporizer working?
A bald head glinted below them, and one of the soldiers waved. Ambrose thought he could see a bright smile on the face of the man who had secured the jet fuel. He knew Rodgers was part of the military detachment, but in the world of underground fighting, people never asked too many questions.
Rodgers, you seedy, betraying fuck of a soldier, Ambrose thought. The plane lifted high in the air, and Ambrose set the wheel to north by northwest, in the direction of Montana. The compass and map, more winnings from his fights, were tucked in his backpack, but he didn’t dare reach for them, at least, not yet. Behind them, the sun began to poke up over the skyline, basking the tail in crimson hues.
“Whoo hoo!” Julio screamed so loudly into the headset it made Ambrose wince.
“Save your celebrating,” Ambrose shouted into the headphones, “until we get to Nebraska.”
“I thought we was headed to Montana?” Julio looked at him.
“Well, that’s just our first stop for fuel,” Ambrose replied.
“Then we off to get your girl?”
“Yes, yes we are.”
Ambrose hoped she’d still be safe by the time they got there.
Acknowledgments
To the authors who helped me through this journey, I thank you. I couldn't have done it without you.
About the Author
Rebekah Dodson is a prolific word weaver of romance, fantasy, and science fiction novels. Her works include the series Postcards from Paris, The Surrogate, The Curse of Lanval series, several stand-alone novels, and her upcoming YA novel, Clock City. She has been writing her whole life, with her first published work of historical fiction with 4H Clubs of America at the age of 12, and poetry at the age of 16 with the National Poetry Society. With an extensive academic background including education, history, psychology and English, she currently works as a college professor by day and a writer by night. She resides in Southern Oregon with her husband, two teenagers, and three dogs.
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Lavender Dreams: Life After Us: Book Two Page 17
