Sky on Fire
“She should drink, the little rat!”
“For Christ’s sake, I don’t know the dosage!” I shouted. “We’ll just tie her up!”
Chloe looked chastened.
“This isn’t a game,” I yelled. “These are people’s lives.”
And a stupid sob came up in my chest, just as Jimmy Doll Hands sank to the floor.
* * *
Anna said nothing as we tied her hands. Not even “Thank you for not drugging me.” It was almost like we were boring her. She just wandered over to Payton and stood staring down at him.
I felt bad for her. The girl was clearly psychotic.
After Anna’s hands were bound, Astrid and I tried to wake up Jake.
He obviously had retained some of the sleeping pill “juice” before he puked.
“I know! I know!” Henry volunteered. “When our mom needs to stay awake when she’s driving she has an energy drink!”
“Sure, find one,” I said.
It was okay. We had time to try it, even if it was a dumb, little kid kind of a solution.
The cadets would sleep for at least eight hours. We were out of danger. But we did have to figure out what to do with them.
Astrid sat, looking at Jake’s face.
She was studying it. She must have felt me looking at her, because she looked up.
“That was very brave, Dean,” she said to me.
“No,” I said. “I was scared.”
“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t brave,” she said.
The thought of Payton’s face after I’d shot him didn’t make me feel brave at all. It made me want to throw up. It made me feel low and dirty and ashamed.
“What do we do now? What do we do with them?” I asked her.
Henry and Caroline came back with the drink.
I opened Jake’s mouth and tried to pour the contents of the little vial in.
Jake choked and sputtered. I think it was more the sensation of drowning that woke him than the ingredients of the drink, but who cared.
“I say we drag them up onto the roof and lock them out,” Astrid said. “But we keep their guns.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ALEX
0 MILES
“Restricted area, boys!” a soldier said, barring us from getting on the military shuttle.
“Our mom’s in the Air Force,” Niko lied. “She told us to come and find her if Operation Phoenix was a go!”
“Oh, uh, okay,” the soldier grumbled, letting us past.
We slipped onto the shuttle and the doors closed right behind us.
The soldiers around us paid no attention to us. Some of them were Air Force, some were Army. Some were Marines, I guess. It was chaotic.
The shuttle opened up into the C terminal. They had it dedicated to military flights.
Through the big glass bays, where you’d usually see a Jet Blue 757, ready to take people to NY or Atlanta or wherever, there were military jets, helicopters in all different models, and giant Airbuses painted combat colors. At several of the gates, they had small decontamination tents. I guess if anyone needed to come back in, they got sprayed down here. There were also bins with clothing and gear near the entrances from the decontamination tents.
Pilots and soldiers were swarming purposefully every which way. Many were wearing flight suits with air masks. Niko and I were the only two people who didn’t seem to know exactly where we were supposed to go.
“Hey!” said a voice, headed for us.
“Come on,” Niko said, and we walked as fast as we could away from whoever it was who had noticed us.
“You kids!”
We searched frantically for any sign of Mrs. Wooly.
“You’re Wooly’s kids!”
We turned then.
It was Goldsmith, the medic.
“What are you guys doing here? I thought Wooly was putting you on a plane!”
“We need to find her,” I told him.
“Now is not the time!” he said. “They moved the whole operation up.”
“It’s life or death,” Niko pleaded, grabbing his arm. “Please, help us! Do you know where she is?”
“Last I saw she was near gate 33.” Goldsmith pointed. “You better hurry!”
We had a direction now and we ran, darting into the stream of pilots and soldiers.
“There!” Niko said, pointing.
We came close and heard her scolding, “Christopher Caldwell, I’ve known you since you were a kid! You’re gonna get in that chopper and you’re gonna run me over there!”
“No, Wooly. I said no, for God’s sake. I got orders. Orders!”
“They’re a bunch of kids, Caldwell, and they’re gonna be burned to a crisp. A bunch of kids you could save. Think about it. They’ll give you a medal!”
“It’s a suicide mission. The answer’s no!”
“Please, mister.” I went close and grabbed his arm. “It’s my brother, Dean. My big brother and he’s a great big brother and he’s counting on us!”
“Alex, Niko! What are you doing here? For Christ’s sake, you should be halfway to Vancouver!” Mrs. Wooly looked mad as hell.
“We can’t go without the others,” Niko argued. “We just can’t!”
“You kids go get on a godforsaken plane. I’ll take care of this.”
“Good luck, Wooly,” said Caldwell, and he turned and left.
“They’re little kids,” I screamed after him. “Two teenagers and an eight-year-old and five-year-old twins! Five-year-old twins! And we came all the way from Monument! Can’t you help us?”
Then there was a pilot coming at me wearing an air mask, all suited up to go. He grabbed me hard, I mean really hard, and he said, his voice all electronic, “What twins in Monument?”
And I opened my mouth to tell him but he ripped off his air mask and I saw his face.
It was Mr. McKinley. Our neighbor.
It was Mr. McKinley, Dean.
Henry and Caroline’s dad.
* * *
“Where are they?” Mr. McKinley asked.
“They’re at the Greenway, in Monument,” Niko said. “We left them three days ago.”
We hurried along with him.
“What’s the best way in?” he asked us.
“We should land on the roof,” Niko told him. “There’s a hatch and it’s easy to open from the inside.”
“There’s no ‘we,’” Mr. McKinley said. Captain, I mean. “I’m going alone.”
“What?” I screeched. “We’re going, too.”
“Yeah!” Niko shouted.
“You kids cannot go,” Mrs. Wooly yelled. “No way!”
“You need us!” Niko insisted. “We know how to get into the store.”
“We’re probably going to die,” Captain McKinley growled at us.
“No,” I told him. “We’re going to make it. We’re going to save them!”
I knew it, in my gut.
Captain McKinley nodded and wiped his eyes and gave me a clap on the shoulder.
“Grab masks,” he said, nodding to some canvas bins near the gate. “Get good ones.”
“All right, Jesus,” Mrs. Wooly said. “I’ll suit up.”
“We don’t need you,” Captain McKinley said. “Stay here. Help with the evac.”
“I should come,” she said.
“That’s an order!”
“But—”
Captain McKinley grabbed her by the front of her uniform.
“You want to help, try to get up to the control tower and get us cleared for takeoff so they don’t shoot us out of the sky for deserting!”
“Okay,” Mrs. Wooly said, shaken. “Will do.”
She hugged me and Niko, and took off at a run.
Niko and I rummaged through the bin, looking for good masks. Captain McKinley came back with flight jumpers for me and Niko.
“Airtight,” he said. “Get these on. They’re dropping bombs over NORAD in 20 minutes. We’ll have another 5 to 7 minutes after that before they level Monument. If we’re going, we’re going now.”
“How long will it take us to get there?” I asked as Niko struggled into his suit.
“In a Wildcat, at full throttle—16 minutes.”
“We’re going to make it!” I said.
* * *
Captain McKinley’s helicopter looked fast. I got to sit up front with him. Niko had to sit in the back.
Captain McKinley plugged a cord into his face mask and pointed for me to do the same. It was a jack into the communication system. I could hear the dispatchers going crazy giving directions to the planes and helicopters.
Captain McKinley reached over and across me, flipping switches all over the place. The engine roared to life and the propellers started. I was glad for the noise-cancellation headphones built into the air mask—it was loud!
“Wildcat 185, you are not cleared for takeoff! Repeat, you are not cleared!”
Mrs. Wooly had not made it! She hadn’t made it in time!
“Tower, this is Captain McKinley, going on a rescue mission.”
“McKinley,” shouted the voice on the headset, “what the hell are you doing? You are not cleared!”
“Sorry, Tower, it can’t be helped.”
“Stand down, Wildcat 185, we will open fire—”
“It’s my kids, Tower. They’re alive. They’re in the Phoenix zone and I’m going for them.”
“Jesus, McKinley…”
In the background, other voices were shouting directions to all the other planes, clearing coordinates and assigning them for takeoff.
“Go get ’em, Hank,” the tower man said. “God bless you. Wildcat 185, you are cleared.”
Then another voice added, “Good luck, McKinley!”
And another, “Go get your kids!”
Takeoff was bumpy.
“Visibility is limited,” Captain McKinley said to me. “It’s one hell of a weapon, the inkbomb. Lucky for us, though, we’re flying one hell of an aircraft.”