Recruits (Keeper of the Water Book 2) (20 page)

There’s no way I can follow our movements across the sky, nor figure out what the other planes are doing. I spot the occasional blur of movement among the clouds and hear a deafening
whoosh
a few times but that’s the only way I can tell when the other jets are close.

Darkness begins to creep in from the corners of my eyes. I realize we’re moving at breakneck speeds but everything seems strangely slow, like I’m not even in my own body. I may have had this thought before but I’m serious this time: if I somehow survive this flight, I’ll
never
step foot on a plane again.

Through the fog forming in my mind, I hear a loud
beeping
and see a blinking red light. My brain might be shutting down but I still recognize when something is not quite right.

“What’s that noise?” I ask.

My voice sounds weak to my own ears, especially since I can’t take a deep enough breath to speak with any conviction. I doubt Amelia even heard what I asked, though I’m not going to bother repeating myself; I don’t have the strength to do so even if I wanted.

“That means they have missile lock on us,” Amelia says matter-of-factly. “We could be in trouble if they decided to fire on – uh oh, they decided to fire!”

Another high-pitched whining noise rushes toward us. I doubt that all the special water in the world could help Amelia avoid our fiery doom but she’s determined to try. She steers the plane into yet another barrel roll but a single one will not do. Our jet completes roll after roll but my head can only take so much. Though these may be my last moments of life, unconsciousness overtakes me and the world in front of my eyes goes completely black…

When my eyes flutter open, all I see is bright blue sky and puffy white clouds. In a moment of confusion, I wonder if I’ve died and this is heaven. But there’s a glass windshield between me and the outside world and I still hear the roar of a jet engine. Thankfully, the whine of speeding missiles has gone away and while we’re still traveling fast, our jet is flying steady, no barrel rolls or wild maneuvers.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Welcome back, Mentor,” Amelia says with a chuckle. “I promise you one day I’ll take you for a relaxing flight – they’re not
all
this wild, regardless of our flying experiences together.”

“Where are the other planes?” I ask.

“Let’s just say we no longer have company, at least not yet,” Amelia says. “Though I imagine the Air Force will send more of them after us considering what just happened.”

My stomach sinks, but it’s not because of any sensation of flying. I remember being chased by the Japanese pilots the first time I was on a plane, the way they attacked us for no apparent reason besides wandering too close to their airspace. Amelia took out those two planes but had merely been fighting back. But the thought of her killing American pilots merely doing their job – coming after a plane thief – turns my stomach.

“You shot them down?” I ask.

“You
were
unconscious for a while,” she says. “You’ll be happy to know that I didn’t fire a single shot. The other pilots were talented, no doubt about that. Even gave me quite a scare a few different times. But they weren’t good as me and had to learn it the hard way. But have no fear, Mentor: the pilots ejected safely before crashing. I might’ve cost Uncle Sam forty million bucks for those two planes but I
did
warn them that I was only borrowing this one.”

I breathe a deep sigh that Amelia avoided harming anyone. I should’ve known my recruit would do everything possible to avoid bloodshed of the innocent. With no resistance in front of us, Amelia says she will push the jet even quicker so we can reach the Poconos as soon as possible. The prospect of flying
faster
doesn’t exactly appeal to me until I think of my mother and remember the danger she’s in. Before I can respond, the jet shoots forward so quickly that I’m pushed back into my seat.

The Electra shoots down from the sky so quickly that I’m pushed back into my seat. Amelia announces that the plane is officially out of fuel, thus the reason why neither engine now works. My experience with planes is so limited that I expect us to plunge out of the sky, drop straight down like a rock. But that’s not the case and instead we glide down
and
forward, still heading for the island.

“We’re not going to make it!” Fred whines from the back.

“Would you shut up already?” Amelia yells at him. “My girl won’t let us down.”

Amelia gently strokes the plane’s controls the way a mother might caress her baby’s cheek. The gesture makes me feel better, more confident in her ability to squeeze every inch out of the plane. I can do nothing but sit in total fear and watch what happens. As Amelia promised, Electra doesn’t let her down. Though we lose altitude at a frightening pace, we don’t touch down until we pass over the lush greenness of the island of Saipan. There’s nothing but heavy forest where we descend but Amelia spots a long dirt runway cut among the trees.

It’s hard to miss the dozen other Japanese attack planes parked at the end of the runway. The sight of them doesn’t make for the most relaxed feeling but it’s better than landing in the ocean or the trees. Electra hits down hard. I’m nearly jostled out of my seat, especially when Fred crashes into the back of my chair. He grunts but his pain isn’t important at the moment. The plane shudders violently as we skip along the bumpy runway, Amelia struggling to keep us from veering into the nearby trees on both sides of us. Though the engines have been dead for several minutes, Electra still moves fast from a combination of weight and forward momentum.

We speed by the parked planes and see a group of Japanese soldiers watching us, mouths agape, as we invade their territory. Their shock only lasts a few moments and they’re soon running after us, guns raised. We don’t stop once the runway ends. The plane bounds over uneven grasslands, causing all of us to bounce uncontrollably. Amelia somehow manages to keep hold of the controls. The plane finally turns and tilts onto its side, snapping off one of the wings before finally skidding to a stop against some trees.

I take several deep breaths and stare at the grass pressing against the other side of the windshield. I can’t believe I’m still alive. The sudden silence is eerie. No more rushing wind or whirring engines or shooting bullets. The only sounds I hear are my pounding heart, Amelia’s heavy breathing, Fred’s weak groans and the buzzing jungle insects just outside of the plane. But it’s not until we hear another approaching sound – yelling soldiers – that the three of us are snapped out of our collective shock.

“Maybe we can talk to them and explain the situation,” I say.

“Are you kidding? This is the Japanese we’re talking about. What rock have you been living under that you don’t realize we’re their enemy?” Fred asks as he yanks weakly at the plane’s door, which is dented shut. “Do you expect them to let us live after we destroyed two of their planes and landed – uninvited – on their military base?”

As if perfectly on cue, one of the noises that
had
stopped suddenly begins anew. The troops don’t wait for an explanation before they open fire on the destroyed Electra.

“We have to make a run for it,” I say.

“How?” Fred asks, so nervous that he appears on the brink of tears. “We’re trapped in here.”

I crawl toward the windshield – its glass having spider-webbed during the crash – and punch right through it. I’m hit instantly by the sweltering heat, far different from the coldness of flight. The weather feels like the South American jungle, yet another reminder of why I’m here in the first place. I look to Amelia, whose hands remain firmly on the plane’s controls even though they’re now above her head. Like me, the extra strength she has from drinking the special water kept her safe during the rough landing. Still, she wears an expression of melancholy as she holds onto her battered plane; it’s not a look I expected from such a free-spirited woman.

“We have to go now, Amelia,” I tell her softly.

She’s reluctant to let go, even as the plane is peppered with bullets. Her navigator has no such qualms. He squeezes into the front of the plane and wiggles out through the shattered windshield.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he says.

We barely pay attention to him as he runs out of the plane, though it’s hard to miss the sound of increased gunfire. But I’m only focused on my recruit and she’s only focused on her plane. I understand the importance of mourning but also the importance of bad timing. I gently reach for her hand and pull it away from the controls, feeling the strength of her resistance.

“Do you see what they did to my baby?” she asks.

“I know, but we can’t let them do the same to us,” I say.

Amelia finally looks away from her control panel and turns toward me. Her eyes are big and watery but she wipes at them with the back of her hand, sadness suddenly replaced with determination. And it doesn’t come a moment too soon. Outside the plane, Fred stumbles toward the thicker area of trees a few hundred feet ahead. I can’t tell if he’s injured from the crash or still very drunk. Either way, he doesn’t run fast enough to avoid the hail of bullets fired in his direction. He’s finally hit and falls to the ground, where he writhes in pain.

With the enemy approaching and the navigator a sitting target, I let go of Amelia and climb into the back of the plane, rifling through the cargo from their journey until I find what I’m looking for: my bow and quiver.

Though the soldiers are nearby, Amelia and I climb through the broken windshield, using the plane to shield us from their sight. I scan the nearby forests. The quickest way to safety is off to the left. When I point this out to Amelia, she slowly shakes her head and points the other way, where Fred continues to writhe on the ground, though not as much as when he first went down. She wants to save him despite the soldiers being so close by.

“Okay, I’ll go after him,” I whisper to her.

I sling by bow over my shoulder, hoping to rely purely on speed to get to him and drag him away before being shot. But Amelia shakes her head once again.

“You’re not going after him alone, Mentor,” she says.

At that moment, I have no doubt Amelia will join the Amazons as long as we survive. I want to tell her that I’m faster and stronger and that she shouldn’t put herself in such danger but that wouldn’t be right for me to say. If she’s going to be part of our tribe one day, then danger will be something she has to deal with. I’m proud to see that she doesn’t shy away from it.

We crawl toward the end of the plane and peer around the corner, where the Japanese troops remain watching Electra, waiting with their guns ready for any sign of further movement. There’s no way of avoiding them. I ready an arrow in my bow and pop up, taking aim for the closest soldier. They spot me right away but don’t have the reflexes I do. I shoot an arrow into the first soldier’s chest before any of them have time to squeeze their triggers. They’re surprised but recover quickly, scattering into the nearby forest before their shot comrade even hits the dirt.

“Now!” I hiss at Amelia.

She appears shocked at seeing the dead soldier but quickly gets over it. She and I sprint across the open land, heading toward Fred. Amelia stumbles several times and it makes me remember the first time
I
ran after drinking the water, the way my body was so unaccustomed to moving at such speeds. But she quickly recovers and ends up running
faster
than me, reaching Fred before I do. We each grab an arm and pull him toward the safety of the trees. The soldiers begin to fire but we move too fast, their bullets striking trees at least ten feet behind us.

We run for several minutes until the sound of yelling soldiers fades into the distance. We gently lay Fred down but his eyes are opened wide, staring into nothingness, the spark of life already extinguished. When we turn him over and look at his bullet-riddled back, it’s easy to see why he died.

“I’m very sorry he didn’t make it,” I say.

“He was insufferable and always trying to hit on me but that was Fred. No time to properly bury him, huh?” Amelia asks.

She looks sad but not quite as much as seeing her plane destroyed. I slowly shake my head and she nods in understanding. Amelia finds a few fallen palm fronds and drags them over the navigator’s body.

“Sorry, Freddy Boy,” she whispers before turning to me. “Now what?”

A mentor with her new recruit being hunted by soldiers – this situation is awfully familiar. I think back to my first days as an Amazon and the way we dealt with the Confederate soldiers. I look up and point.

“The trees, we’ll hide up there until the soldiers walk by,” I say. “Then we’ll circle back and… and take one of their planes.”

Even as the words escape my mouth, I hate myself for coming up with this plan. A part of me would do anything to jump into the ocean and swim away from here but we’re far in the middle of the Pacific and such a swim might be physically impossible even for me. We’re stuck on an island full of gun-toting enemies but it’s the idea of flying again that turns my stomach. Amelia also doesn’t look so excited about my idea.

“You want to
steal
one of their planes?” she asks.

“I prefer the term
borrowing
,” I answer.

“But I’ve never flown a fighter plane before,” she says.

“Then let’s hope you’re a fast learner,” I say.

We hear a quick burst of gunfire but it’s far away enough so I know they haven’t spotted us. This forest is teeming with wildlife and my shooting skills have obviously made the soldiers jumpy. We pick the tallest, fullest tree and climb high up.

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

Flying a USAF fighter jet at Mach-1 speeds made the trip take less than half an hour; driving a car took most of a day to cover the same distance. We’ve avoided any further military resistance but Amelia intercepted several messages stating that all planes were grounded and every major American landmark was placed on the highest terror alert. Between yesterday’s biplane theft and today’s jet, it’s no wonder the US government thinks its citizens are in danger of a terrorist attack. I wish there was a way to quell any such fears but hopefully I’ll rescue my mother soon and avoid further national terror scares.

The Pocono Mountains appear in the distance and within seconds we’re racing above the Lehigh Water Gap. I tell Amelia to find a spot to land that’s far away enough from the motel so Mom’s stalker doesn’t hear us coming. I have no idea what we’re walking into but I at least want the element of surprise on our side. Amelia spots Mt. Pocono High’s football field and she sets down the jet, the landing not as bumpy as I expect.

Although my head still swims and my legs feel as strong as wet noodles, claustrophobia suddenly engulfs me and I struggle to free myself from the plane’s jumble of straps. Once I’m free, Amelia pushes open the jet’s hatch and I hurry out of the cockpit, leaping down to the damaged grass below. Normally I’d land on my feet after a jump from this height but the flight has left me weak and I collapse to the grass. I fight the urge to kiss the ground. It barely dawns on me that this was the same field where I fought an entire lacrosse team just a few months ago.

“Mentor, are you hurt?” Amelia asks as she lands on her feet next to me.

She helps me up and I take a deep breath, strength returning to my legs when I think about my mother being so close and in such danger. School isn’t currently in session but our landing couldn’t have gone unnoticed – it’s not every day a jet fighter touches down in these parts. I think about my mother – about the hours that have passed since the frantic phone call – and the strength returns to my body.

I sling my bow over my shoulder but realize I’m not the only one. Amelia has a much older bow in hand.

“You shoot, too?” I ask.

“Who do you think taught me, Mentor?” she asks. “You always said I was your best student.”

The thought of this makes me smile with pride even though I don’t yet recall that part of my past. But the smile fades and I remind myself to focus on finding my mother. Though I’ve never seen the motel where she’s hiding, I have a pretty good idea where it’s at based upon her description. My keen sense of direction takes over and without another word to Amelia, I turn and run, my recruit following close behind.

“What’s the plan when we get there?” Amelia asks.

Within seconds, we leave the high school and the parked jet far behind. I’m still anxious more than words can explain but there’s something calming about being back in these familiar woods. And since I already hear the sound of sirens approaching the school, I realize that staying hidden among the trees is our safest option.

“I haven’t had time to think of a plan yet,” I admit.

Nor does anything specific come to mind as I sprint through the woods. I’m so focused on simply
getting there
that I have no idea what I’ll do once I reach the motel. It only takes a few minutes to reach the isolated area surrounding the motel. It takes all of my willpower to stop from charging straight into the motel to look for her. I have no idea who might be watching and Amelia reminds me that we’ve come too far to simply throw caution to the wind.