Instinct (25 page)

“You read the instructions. I don’t want you touching Amy Lynne.”

Tim frowned and glanced at the girl. “I’ve got experience. I’d hate to have things come out wrong since it’s your first time. Plus, you won’t know if I’m telling you the right instructions if I’m reading them.”

“Then I can read them myself,” the young man said.

“Fair enough,” Tim said. The right logic finally came to him. “But who is going to hold the gun on me if you’re reading and doing the work?”

The young man considered this for a long time. Tim thought it was too long. The logic wasn’t sinking in and he was going to have to try again.

“I’ll read the instructions and you do it. But I’m going to keep my gun pointed at the dog.”

Cold washed through Tim’s veins again. He nodded.

The next few seconds were painful. He watched the young man try to help Amy Lynne to the ground while keeping the gun trained on Cedric. Tim wanted to go help, but when he made the slightest move, the gun came up again.

The kid was strong. He managed to support Amy Lynne’s weight as her good foot stayed straight out and she focused on keeping her bad one from hitting the ground. Her bleary-eyed concentration was unwavering.

When she got to within six inches of the ground, they both fell backwards. For a second, the gun swung up towards the sky and Tim’s muscles tensed. Some part of him wanted to rush the kid, just to have the confrontation over.
 

The young man and Amy Lynne hit the ground. She groaned with pain. The sound was quickly replaced by her slurred laugh. She rolled to her side and raised her leg. The way her foot turned towards the ground at the end of her straight leg made Tim’s stomach turn.

The young man took a long look at her before her moved to the bag.

“What’s your name?” Tim asked.

“Jackson,” he said without looking up. He opened the zipper and pulled out the laptop. The way Jackson flopped the laptop on the tarmac, Tim wondered if it would still work.

Jackson looked up suspiciously, right as Tim exhaled. Tim realized that he had been holding his breath in anticipation, and he forced himself to try to act normal. What was normal when a crazy kid pointed a gun at you?

“What’s it under?” Jackson asked.

“There’s a bunch of photos in a folder on the desktop. I took pictures of the instructions.”

“These look like outdoor stuff.”

“Yeah, that’s them. The instructions are written on walls.” Tim once again searched for a tone that might seem normal.

“Walls?” Jackson asked. Fortunately, his fingers kept working at the laptop. With any luck, he would open the pictures and he would…

Jackson flopped backwards and the computer rolled off his lap. Tim ran forward just as Amy Lynne began to register that something was happening.

Tim pried the gun from Jackson’s hand and held it out. He felt like a bank robber as he loaded the bag with one hand and held the gun straight out with the other.

“Where are you doing?” Amy Lynne asked. Her voice sounded so weak and pathetic. Tim looked at her. Her eyes were confused and unfocused. She looked down at her own ankle and he had the bad judgment to follow her glance. Between her dress and her swollen foot, the skin of her ankle was torn. Amidst the clotted, black blood, white bone glistened.

“You need serious help,” Tim said.

“What?”

Tim dragged the bag away from Jackson and then stood. He trotted backwards, keeping the gun roughly pointed towards the kids.

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He rushed his preflight and manhandled Cedric up into the cockpit. Jackson didn’t move. Amy Lynne did little more than roll around. Tim was ready to go before he allowed himself to really consider the question: one, none, or both?

“Just the girl,” he said to Cedric. The dog was sitting in the back seat. He didn’t have a harness or even a seatbelt. Landing would be a nervous affair with a dog loose behind him. How bad would it be with an angry, drug-addled, injured girl?

“Just the girl.”

Tim left the engine idling and climbed out.

She was already up to her knees, which surprised the hell out of Tim. He held the gun straight out and glanced at the side. He didn’t know if the safety was on or off. Since he didn’t plan on pulling the trigger, he figured it didn’t really matter. Still, the idea of the thing in his hand didn’t give him confidence or assurance. It felt like he was handling a stick of dynamite, and the fuse was lit.

“Come on,” he said.

“What?” Amy Lynne looked at Tim like he was something brand new. No recognition registered on her face.

“I’ll find you help,” Tim said.

“Something’s wrong with Jack,” she said. Her mouth turned down, into a pout.

“He’s going to be fine in a couple of minutes. You need to come with me to find help.”

“No.”

Tim looked at the plane.

“You have a good point,” Tim said. He started to back away.

“Wait,” she called.
 

Tim kept backing away.

She slipped forward, like she had lost her balance, and caught herself on her palms.

“Please help me!” she yelled.

Tim paused. He didn’t know handguns, and he didn’t know if the thing was even still cocked. The idea of carrying the girl while holding a weapon was preposterous. He set the gun down on the runway and ran back to the girl. Jackson was still out. Tim wrapped an arm around her and dragged upwards. She yelled as her foot swung. Tim moved forward anyway.

He was more quick than gentle as he pushed her up onto the wing. She held up an arm against the air from the idling propellor. Tim climbed around her and opened the door.

“Come on,” he said.

She was looking back at Jackson.

Tim’s panic rose with the young man. He was pushing his way up.

“Let’s go! I’ll leave you here, I swear it.”

Tim looked at the girl and then at the gun, which was about halfway between the plane and Jackson.
 

He picked Amy Lynne up beneath her armpits and dragged her backwards. He held the door open with his butt and tried to pull her inside.

“Hey!” she yelled. She was laughing again.
 

Jackson was gaining speed as he moved forward. Tim got the girl in her seat, although her legs were still hanging out through the door. He flopped into his own seat, released the brake, and increased the throttle. The plane began to move. With one hand steering, Tim tried to pull the girl’s legs inside. He got her left in and cringed as the door closed on her right calf. The wind was making the door bounce against her leg just inches from the compound fracture.

“What are you doing? Stop it.” Amy Lynne pushed at him with weak arms and flopped her head onto his shoulder.

“You have to help me get your leg in,” Tim said. “That door is going to have a lot of pressure against it very soon.”

He pushed against her back and she rolled forward. She actually raised her hand to the door, but she didn’t move it. Tim looked back. They were moving slow and Jackson was starting to catch up. For some reason, the young man looked back and then ran the other direction. Tim was glad until he realized why—Jackson was going to for the gun.
 

Tim leaned over Amy Lynne, pressed open the door, and dragged her other leg inside. Her foot bashed against the door and then the frame. Amy Lynne screamed. Her voice was cut off as she flopped forward and sunk her teeth into Tim’s shoulder. He filled the void with his own scream.

Tim flailed back with his arm and made contact with Amy Lynne’s head. She slid backwards.

“Hey. That’s not nice,” she said.

Tim turned his attention back to flying. He checked on Cedric. The dog was sitting in the back seat and looking through the window at the passing terrain. Apparently, this was a normal takeoff for him.

They were nearly at the end of the runway when Tim turned the plane around. In the distance, Jackson stood with his legs wide and held the gun straight out. He had figured out that they would have to come back around, and he was waiting.
 

Tim ramped up the throttle and headed straight for him. He heard the pop and saw the smoke drift from the end of the barrel. Jackson was shooting at them.
 

“I wanna get out now,” Amy Lynne said. She pawed at the door.

Tim tried to get control of his own breathing as the plane accelerated. He heard more distant pops and saw the smoke. He waited for one of the bullets to shatter the windshield, or penetrate his chest. If a bullet didn’t go in, it felt like his heart might burst out. His heartbeat thudded in his ears even over the sound of the engine.

Tim veered the plane just before the wing could hit Jackson. The young man didn’t move. He turned with the gun, but there was no more smoke, and no more pops. He must have emptied his ammunition while they were farther away.

Tim’s heart began to slow as the wheels left the runway.

Tim fumbled and found headsets in a case behind Amy Lynne’s seat. She was pushing with both hands against the door, but it was too late. The air pressure from the wind was holding the door shut now.
 

Tim got himself hooked up and enjoyed the peace he associated with putting on the headset. It was a powered rig, and when he found the switch, the noise-canceling brought him wonderful silence. Tim sighed and heard his breath key the microphone.
 

Amy Lynne had slumped against the door. Her exertions had drained the last of her energy. Tim checked her pulse and then checked his gauges. Everything looked good. If Jackson had hit them, he apparently hadn’t done any major damage.

Tim circled and eventually spotted the boy at the side of the hangar. With a spray of silent dirt, Jackson accelerated his motorcycle out onto the road. Even at their distance, Tim saw Jackson’s face turn up as he tracked the plane. Tim turned out and headed for the open water of Lake Erie.
 

Tim reached back and scratched Cedric’s head. At the touch of the warm fur, he felt his panic subsiding. His heart slowed more and he settled into the seat of his new airplane.
 

When he got over the water, Tim headed north.

CHAPTER 16: VERMONT

T
HEIR
BIKE
PATH
ENDED
at a street. Stairs led to a pedestrian bridge, which crossed to the other side. Bicycles could follow a crosswalk and continue in a painted bike lane that ran down the side of the road. A wide channel of the pulsing liquid ran right down the double-yellow lines.

They climbed the stairs and used the pedestrian bridge. Brad pointed his light over the railing and looked at the liquid.

“That’s the biggest amount of the stuff we’ve seen,” he said.

“It’s like an artery,” Pete said. They came down the steps carefully on the other side. They used their lights to scope out the pavement before they set foot down on it.

“This way,” Romie said. She pointed up the sidewalk.

“I still don’t think you’ve explained it very well,” Lisa said.
 

“Look at the book yourself,” Romie said. “You’ll understand.”

“No!” Pete said. “Nobody is looking at that book until we’ve found some place safe. What are we supposed to do, carry her until she wakes up again?”

“I wasn’t out that long,” Romie said.

“The hell you weren’t,” Pete said. “You were out for most of the day.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Can’t you just tell us what you saw?” Lisa asked. “What makes you so sure we’ll be safe if we head west?”

“That’s where the center is,” Romie said. “This is ancient knowledge. God told me.”

“You don’t even believe in God,” Lisa said.

“I
never
said that. You hear what you want to hear sometimes.”

“Me?”

“Can we debate this later?” Pete asked. “I believe we need to focus one-hundred percent of our attention to avoiding that damn liquid.”

They had moved away from the road with the artery. Pete swung his little beam from side to side, looking for any other trace of the stuff. The whole time they’d walked down the bike path, they hadn’t seen it at all.
 

“Maybe we should figure out where the other end of that bike path is. That seemed like a pretty safe route. Wait a second—when we went north into the snow, didn’t you want to take the railroad tracks then, Robby? Are they safe somehow?”

Pete and Romie were up front, followed by Lisa, Robby, and then Brad. When Robby shrugged, only Brad saw it.

Pete looked back.

“I don’t remember,” Robby said.

Pete turned away and then looked back again, as if he didn’t believe Robby. Brad felt the same way—Robby didn’t forget anything.

They were walking quickly. Romie chose the direction. When they got to an intersection, she was the one who decided if they would turn or go straight. They kept their general heading, but Romie made a lot of decisions on exactly how to get there. She didn’t seem to make mistakes. At least they never got to an impasse and had to turn around. Somewhere in the back of Brad’s head, he began to wonder if maybe they were being allowed to make progress west, just so they could be boxed in later.