by Richard Bard
Chapter 4
Twenty Thousand Feet Above Fujian Province, South China
MY BACKPACK WAS at the back of the plane, but I could still feel the energy emanating from the miniature pyramid I’d taken from Dad’s floor safe. The mini, that’s what I called it, felt good in a way I’d never felt before, like I was stronger somehow and everything was going to be all right. I’d known all along Dad had taken it from the island on the day that an overhead Grid of pyramids left by an ancient alien race had nearly destroyed humanity—which is a mind-bending story of its own—and I’d been tempted to ask him about it several times. But he’d wanted to keep it a secret, even from Mom, so I let it go.
“It’s so cold,” my sister said, shivering under our shared blanket. Ahmed scooted closer on my other side, draping his blanket over the three of us.
We huddled together on inward-facing web seats in the cargo compartment of a transport aircraft that Ahmed said was a C-130. The interior wasn’t finished like the passenger jets I’d been in before. Instead, it was noisy and drafty, and it rattled like crazy every time we hit the slightest bit of turbulence. There were two covered pallets of cargo tied down near the back of the plane and two guards toward the front. One of them was dozing and the other had just plopped into his seat after prepping a fresh pot of tea.
A man was lying on the seats across from us. At least we thought it was a man from the jeans, sweatshirt, and short black hair, but his back was to us so we couldn’t be sure. He hadn’t moved since we woke up. His ankles were zip-tied together.
Our ankles were free, but our hands were zip-tied in front of us and our wrists were chafed from the cuffs. Sarafina had begged the guards to remove them when we’d first awakened an hour ago from the drug they’d given us. She’d received a slap in the face. They seemed to hate us and I knew why. Ahmed had shot one of their friends when they had jumped us at the arcade after we’d fled the house. He’d fought back, a gun had come loose, and he’d picked it up and fired. He’d done it to save Sarafina, and I’ll never forget the look on his face when he’d squeezed the trigger. Pure determination. He hadn’t flinched, and he’d held the pistol in a two-handed grip just like my character held the Colt Python in the Spider game. But the sound of the shots echoing in my ears, the holes exploding in the man’s chest, and the expression of terror as blood gurgled from his mouth had been a lot different from a video game.
I didn’t like it.
When one of the other men had grabbed me from behind and held a knife to my neck, Ahmed had turned the weapon in my direction, and I realized part of him had believed he could take out the guy without hurting me. I swear my heart stopped beating, and if I hadn’t willed him to stop I think he might’ve tried it.
The guard checked his watch, and I had the sense we were in a slight descent.
“Maybe we’re getting close,” Ahmed said, keeping his voice low.
“Yeah, but close to where?” Sarafina asked with a shiver.
She was right. There was no telling where we were. But based on how hungry I was, we must’ve been traveling for a very long time.
But it didn’t matter. We had a plan, and we were waiting for Ahmed to get it started.
“Any second,” Ahmed said, watching the guard.
“How can you be so sure?” Sarafina asked.
“He keeps jiggling his knees up and down, just like Alex does.”
I could see it, too. I had the same nervous habit when I was holding it in.
“Get ready,” Ahmed said.
Sarafina tensed. “I’m scared.”
“Like Dad says, it’s okay to be scared,” Ahmed said. “There’s no such thing as courage if there isn’t fear. Besides, it’s gonna work.” His confidence helped me relax.
Her lips tightened, but she nodded, leaned over, and placed her head in my lap, pretending to take a nap. The guard glanced over but Ahmed was right—the man’s mind was elsewhere.
Sarafina closed her eyes and I snuggled the blanket under her chin like Mom would when she tucked me in. Then I caressed my sister’s hair, casually removing her barrette and passing it beneath the blanket to Ahmed.
He took the tool and I could feel his movements beneath the blanket. We’d all done it dozens of times before, a talent we’d learned compliments of Uncle Becker. He’d taught us lots of things during his visits over the past year, and getting out of flex-cuffs was one of them. Even the thickest ties turned out to be no problem, especially if you had a tool like a barrette with a modified tongue that slid easily between the lock’s angled teeth. I felt my brother’s relief and knew it had worked. He passed the barrette back and I handed it under the blanket to Sarafina. It was her turn, then mine.
A few minutes later the guard rose and disappeared into the tiny bathroom.
As soon as the door closed, Ahmed was on his feet and rushing like a crouched ninja toward the other guard. My sister grabbed my hand and we both squeezed hard. Ahmed reached under the sleeping guard’s seat and pulled out the leather satchel. The hypodermic we’d noticed earlier was still protruding from its side pocket. Ahmed grabbed it and squirted its contents into the steaming teapot. He was about to replace it in the bag when he hesitated, glancing first at the sleeping guard and then at the closed bathroom door. Sarafina squeaked and I held my breath, praying he’d stick to the plan and hurry back. Instead, Ahmed rummaged around inside the satchel and pulled out a vial. He stuck the vial with the hypo and filled it up, doing it in such a practiced way that I was reminded he’d spent several years in a mental institution, where I suspected he’d seen it done hundreds of times. When the hypo was full, he squirted the contents into the pot. Finally, he replaced the hypo, vial, and satchel, and was back under our blankets five seconds later. He wrapped his hands around ours and I could feel the rapid pounding of his pulse.
“They could die with that big of a dose,” Sarafina whispered.
“How do you know that?” Ahmed said.
“Well, I don’t know for sure, but it seemed like a lot.”
“Too much is better than not enough,” Ahmed said. “And if they die, they deserve—”
“Holy crap,” a voice said from across the aisle, startling all of us. The man had turned to face us. He was in his late twenties, but he still had a few pimples on his chin. His forehead had a bruised lump. It was Dad’s good friend who worked with Doc at some top secret government facility. Dad sometimes referred to him as a “whiz kid.” If it hadn’t been for him, Dad wouldn’t have ever come out of his coma.
“Uncle Timmy?” Sarafina blurted out.
“Shhh,” Ahmed and I said in unison, checking to make sure the sleeping guard hadn’t heard.
“Jeez, kids,” Timmy said, rubbing his eyes with his cuffed hands. “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this.”
“Do you know where we are?” Ahmed asked.
“Not sure,” Timmy said, blinking as if to shake off the drug he’d apparently been given. He remained reclined, pointing at the guard. “Last time I came to, they drugged me again, but not before I realized where I was. They were transferring me from a private jet to this rig at the Kansai International airport in Kyoto, Japan. You guys were probably on the jet with me.”
“Japan,” Sarafina gasped. Tears gathered in her eyes.
I felt like a sharp icicle was slowly pushing through my stomach. We were so far away from home. How could Mom and Dad ever find us way out here?
Ahmed sagged beside me and I sensed his internal battle to maintain his composure. It was situations like this that usually sent him into a rant. But he kept his mouth shut, as if he knew we were depending on him for strength. That made it easier for me to close the drawer on my fear. We all needed to be strong.
I focused my thoughts and projected an umbrella of calmness over all four us, kind of like I did to help Mississippi Mike.
After a moment, I felt Sarafina find her center. She sniffled and pulled the blanket up to wipe her eyes. “We were drugged, too,”
she said. “Back in California. We woke up a while ago but they didn’t drug us again.”
Timmy’s brow creased. “Maybe that means we’re close to our destination. If I knew which direction we’re flying—”
“Southwest,” I said, and everyone stared at me. I was used to that. I learned a lot of things on the Web that I didn’t bother telling anyone about, so it usually surprised people—well, except my dad—when I pulled one of them out of a drawer in my head. “I saw the stars out the small window by the bathroom.” I could tell our direction by the location of the Big Dipper in relation to the North Star.
“Isaac Newton’s got nothin’ on you, kid,” Timmy said. “Unfortunately, though, that means we’re somewhere over southern China.” He glanced toward the rear of the plane. “Where’s Tony?”
“Huh?” my sister said. “You mean Uncle Tony?”
My skin tingled.
“Yeah, I saw him during the transfer,” Timmy said. “He was still unconscious. There were others with him but they were covered up.”
Sarafina gasped. “Maybe Mom and Dad were with him.”
“Maybe,” Timmy said. “But your dad isn’t an easy guy to take down.”
“Doc was with Dad,” Ahmed said. I’d told him and my sister about the unexpected visit at the VA hospital.
“That’s great news,” Timmy said with sudden eagerness. “I was hoping they hadn’t taken Doc at the same time they grabbed me. If he flew to see your dad, he went to warn him, which means Jake would’ve been on his guard. I pity the dudes that tried to nab him, especially if he thought you guys were in danger.”
A flicker of hope made my pulse race.
“Mom sent out the warning text,” Sarafina said hesitantly.
Nobody said anything for a moment, and from their grim expressions I suspected we were all thinking the same thing: Mom had been alone when she’d sent the text and she hadn’t been at the arcade to meet us like she was supposed to. Dad might’ve been free, but she wasn’t.
Timmy’s expression hardened. “Your dad saved my life. Hell, he’s saved countless lives, and you can bet that he will move heaven and earth to find you and your mom and Tony, too.” He looked us over one at a time. “In the meantime, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
I found myself nodding, seeing a little of my dad in his determined expression. I’d seen it before in Dad’s other friends. “Thank you,” I muttered.
“Tony and your mom must be on the second plane,” Timmy said.
“Second plane?” Ahmed asked.
“Another C-130. It was on the tarmac in Japan.”
“So we’ll see them soon?” Sarafina said. “And then escape together?”
Ahmed’s lips tightened. “No. Even if they are on their way to the same place we’re going, there will definitely be an army of guards waiting for us. That’ll make it impossible to escape. Our best chance is here and now, which means we’re on our own.” He hesitated before adding. “And our plan will work.”
Timmy’s face scrunched up. “Plan? What—?”
The bathroom door started to swing open and Timmy quickly rolled back to his original position. We stopped talking and pretended to sleep, but I watched through my eyelashes as the guard poured himself a cup of tea. He took a sip, and Sarafina and Ahmed tensed at the same time. I wasn’t the only one peeking.
The guard nudged his sleeping partner, tapping his watch. The man nodded begrudgingly, stretching as he rose to his feet. He donned a wireless headset and spoke into the microphone, then pulled two covered mugs from a cabinet and filled them from the pot. A moment later the elevated flight-deck door opened and the copilot reached down to accept the freshly brewed tea.
