The Variables

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“You will let me say everything, do everything, organize everything. Put your gun away and follow me,” Blair instructed to her motley band of stowaways.

“You have a plan then?” Darla asked, turning on the safety and tucking her gun into her pants.

“No,” Blair said and she stormed ahead of them. They crashed through the long grass and down a small embankment and arrived at the makeshift runway. The solar panels for the System were no longer ru

Darla followed right behind Blair as they climbed up the steps to the small passenger plane. Frank bounded up the steps after her, and Dean, Grant, and Ainsley followed behind in silence. Grant looked around the plane; several of the seats were already filled with the bags from the guards inside the EUS. They had brought their things to the plane early in an effort to expedite an escape after slaughtering the Copia residents. Such meticulous pla

He wished he could ask his friend how he could spend time with him, playing cards, talking into the wee hours of the morning, all the while knowing that there were orders to kill him. How was it possible to be so callous? Grant felt sick to his stomach. He had thought they were his friends.

The pilot of the plane, a middle-aged man in a white button down shirt, was sleeping in first class. His mouth was open and a thin stream of drool slid down to his chin. Blair stood over him, her clothes streaked with dirt, her blonde hair tangled around her shoulders. She watched his chest rise and fall, and then turned to the rest of the group, a resolute look cemented on her face. Here was the man who would take them away from Brixton and into the belly of the beast. Everything hinged on his cooperation, and they could all see fear and confusion on Blair’s face—she had no idea what to do next.

“Wake him,” Darla commanded.

Blair glared at Darla and put her hands on her hips. “You already forgot the rules,” Blair said. “What if he refuses? What if he calls my father and tells him that we’re arriving with three additional survivors. You have no contingency plan? Are you prepared to shoot him and fly this plane yourself? And then...” she raised her eyebrows, “how do you expect to handle his disappearance? I told you to let me say everything, do everything. Everything.”

“Fine,” Darla said. She leaned back against one of the leather seats in first class and crossed her arms. “I’m preparing myself to be wowed by your everything.”

“Don’t be patronizing.”

“Then don’t be incompetent.” Darla pointed to the snoring pilot and then to her wrist, tapping it methodically over a non-existent watch.

Grant took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly; the arid climate of Nebraska hurt his lungs. He never knew how much he could miss fresh oxygen. Even when the System tried to pump in its filtrated air, it wasn’t the same, and Grant would long for sun and wind and open places. He’d dream of ru

He watched Blair as she leaned down over the captain and kicked the bottom of his black shiny shoes with her heels, which were still caked with Private Ryley’s dried blood. Kicking his shoes proved futile, so she moved to jostling his shoulder; the pilot snorted and then jolted awake, his eyes sca

“Afternoon, Hank,” Blair said when his eyes focused on her. He sat up straight against the leather seatback and took in the scene: a dubious group of dirty, smelly, bloodied passengers. “I need to discuss a change in plans.” Then she looked around her and turned back to him before he could answer. “Alone.”

Hank assessed Blair and then everyone else; he scrunched up his face and tried to ascertain if he was supposed to know the people on his plane. After a second, he said, “You lead the way, boss,” and he stretched upward and slid out of the seat, without much acknowledgment to the others. He motioned to the back part of the cabin and they went that way together, Blair pulling the curtain between first class and the remainder of the plane closed as she walked by—it zipped along the metal rod like an exclamation point.

The group waited and attempted to eavesdrop, but they were too far back to make out any discernable words. Darla stood at attention near the curtain and scrutinized the weary faces in front of her.

“He doesn’t have to take us anywhere,” Ainsley said. “Wouldn’t he have, like, allegiances?”

“He’s a pilot, not a soldier,” Dean added.

“Well, what’s preventing him from taking the whole plane down somewhere in rural New York?” Ainsley added. “I don’t like this. I’d rather drive.”

Darla stole a peek behind the curtain and then motioned for the group to quiet down. “This gets us there faster and with authority," she said.

“Darla’s right...you don’t have another choice,” Grant added. Everyone turned to look at him. “You don’t know these people...but if anyone thinks you exist, they are going to work exceptionally hard to make sure that you don’t. Huck Truman doesn’t like his plans to backfire. He takes it personally.”

“It’s a Truman quality,” said a voice. The curtain ripped open and Blair stood inches from Darla, with Hank by her side. She looked over to Grant and stared at him for a long time, evaluating his presence, and when her focus broke, she cleared her throat and pointed to the pilot. “Well, it’s our lucky day.”

“Oh, yeah?” Darla tried to sound nonplussed.

“Hank will land us right on target at Old Orchard Beach. Once you are all safely hidden, we’ll call for the chopper to take me and Grant to Kymberlin, our home.”

“What does Hank get out of this?” Darla asked.

Ainsley took a step forward, too. “Why should we trust that he isn’t going to go ru

Blair’s head spun to Ainsley and she flashed her a look of warning. Then she looked to Darla, “Discussion of payment isn’t necessary. Hank is helping us, and he’ll be properly compensated. That’s all you need to know.”

“Jesus,” Darla breathed. When she looked at Blair, she caught the cautioning glare, too. “Look—”

But Blair interrupted. When she spoke, her voice was wavering, hovering just above a whisper, threatening to break. “No. You look. I saved you from the System, and I’ve secured safe passage. And soon,” she paused and looked to the ground, “I’ll help you reco

“You can trust her,” Grant said, sensing the tension, before Darla could reply. “I trust her,” he added, catching Blair’s eye.

Blair looked away. To the ground, she mumbled, “Thank you.” Then she slid past them and into the cockpit, and the pilot followed after her.

Before Hank shut the door, he turned to the group and cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you all...and I mean it...but here’s the deal. Short runway. Lots of speed and altitude fast. Better sit down and buckle up. This isn’t your average takeoff.”