The walk toward the airport seemed to double in length since last time. Mischa tried to stay vigilant, but the hangar containing their potential escape kept pulling her focus. The airport terminal had so many windows overlooking the runway that it would impossible for any squatters to miss them anyway. While regular survivors would likely leave them be as they walked by, once they saw a functioning aircraft, it would be another story.

But if a seventeen-year-old guy had enough flight experience to feel confident stealing a plane, who was to say that other pilots hadn't already done the same. Her heart sunk as she glanced back at her father hobbling with an arm around Quinton. Her father was right: Quinton was a really good guy. Given how quickly things could turn, she should probably tell him that sooner than later. She flashed them both a smile that they returned without hesitation.

Once they reached the hanger, Vita and Mischa supported Nate while Quinton checked the doors. With a frown, Quinton pushed open the smashed door beside the fallen barbed-wire-topped fences. Mischa's palms sweated more than normal in the heat.

"I'm going to go help him. Please stay outside."

"Mischa, wait." Vita extended the handle of one of her knives. Mischa took the weapon in hopes that she really wouldn't have to use it.

She padded toward Quinton and caught the door he held open for her. After shutting it quietly, she placed her hand in his, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. Three airplanes sat in the hangar, smaller than the jets she was used to seeing at the airport. The closest one had four tightly squished seats. One of the aircraft had comfy looking seats and a lot of fancy controls. Quinton shook his head and walked toward one of the older, simpler white planes with a blue stripe. He let go of her hand and walked around to inspect the plane.

Mischa took inventory of the back of the hangar, looking for any signs of habitation or potential intruders. Their luck seemed to be alright so far. Quinton grabbed a stool to look at the top of the wings and unscrew some kind of cap to look inside.

"Mischa, could you go into the office and get me the keys? They should match the aircraft number on the side of the plane, but if you're not sure, bring them all."

Without hesitation, she took off. Getting closer to the office door, a few blankets were nestled up together near the wall with some food wrappers. Sweeping the area again, she found no other traces of people. Maybe they'd moved one.

Just get the keys, she coached herself, quick and easy. She went behind a couple of official-looking counters and rummaged through the drawers and cupboards until she found them. Not wanting to have to return, she grabbed them all and ran back out to Quinton who played with the flaps on the wings.

"We're really lucky. The fuel isn't compromised, and we have almost three-quarters of a tank. Someone must have been planning on using this when the storms hit if it's been stored inside and is ready to use."

"So we can fly this thing?"

"As long as we can figure out how to get those hangar doors open, and I can remember how to take-off."

With his arms manipulating the ailerons, his muscles flexed and his shirt lifted enough to expose his stomach. He lowered his arms and took a few steps in her direction, only to stop and check the edge of the wing. Something about his meticulous nature made her want to reach out and hold him. She tried to convince her mind that she'd had a whole uneventful week to be close to him, yet her body only responded at this moment, when every minute counted.

"Could you check the landing gear for me? Just make sure nothing looks compromised, rusted or missing?"

Mischa set Vita's knife on the seat of the plane and squatted down to look at the bolts and metal around the wheels. Quinton took off to another corner of the shop. She let out a slow breath as she inspected, but thankfully things didn't look too damaged, not that she really knew what to look for. His footsteps grew closer again.

"Red's a nice color on you."

She turned around to face him with an eyebrow cocked. She wore an old green striped t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Quinton's lips danced with the ghost of a laugh while he held some kind of device with a long metal tube and a gauge.

She frowned as she stood and hiked up her jeans. Then she hit him lightly on the arm. "You're supposed to be focused on the plane."

Quinton chuckled and kneeled down to attach his device to the tires. "Just like you were when you got back from the office?"

Her face flushed. "Well... I'm an excellent multi-tasker."

Quinton laughed and checked the next tire. "Really? I never did get those keys."

Mischa ran her hand over her jean pockets and fished them out so she could find the matching one. "Is anything wrong with those tires?"

"They're not right flat, but they're not full either."

"What does that mean?"

"I think we'd manage, but can't guarantee it."

Mischa found the matching key as Quinton finished up with the last tire. "Can we fill them up?"

Shrugging, he replied, "I don't think they work like bike tires."

Mischa chewed on her bottom lip as Quinton walked over to her and placed his warm hands on her upper arms. She looked into his eyes, and her breathing slowed. "I'm okay with whatever you decide," she said. "I trust you."

"We can probably get it there, but I don't think it would make it back. Not that that's an issue with our limited fuel."

"Let's do it."

"Okay, so we'll get your dad in here while I finish up the final checks. You and Vita can go over to the shortest runway." Quinton stepped away from her and grabbed a laminated sheet from the plane. "When you leave the hangar, it starts straight north and runs southeast. According to this map, it should have a number 12. I'm hoping it's easiest to clear since it's the shortest, but if it's terrible we can try this one." He pointed out another diagonal runway that intersected it. "I'll come help as soon as I can." He set the map back down and took her hands in his "If anything doesn't look or feel right, come back and we'll figure out a different plan, okay?"

Mischa nodded. "Thank you. It means a lot that you're doing all this for my dad and all of us."

"It's nothing. I'd do more if I could."

"This is plenty. Thank you."

Looking up at Quinton, she ran a hand against the stubble growing on his face. He leaned down until she could feel his hot breath on her lips. The air hummed around her, blocking out the wind and thoughts of any attackers. His hands moved to her hips, resting and waiting for her next move. Closing her eyes, she pulled him closer until their lips met. His kisses were deep and hurried as his arms pulled her flush against him. Heat rose from her chest as she kissed him back with the same fervent energy. She wanted the moment to last forever, but it couldn't.

Reluctantly, she pulled away. Quinton's eyes sparkled and his lips curled into a smile. She looked away so she wouldn't be tempted again so soon. "For the record, you can thank me like that anytime."

"Then I'd better find a really good way to thank you when you land this plane."

Quinton's eyes widened, and he stole a long kiss. "I hope you know that's not why I'm helping out."

She whispered "I know" between a couple more kisses.

A door squealed, and she pulled away from Quinton a moment too late to avoid her father and Vita's teasing words.

"I'd ask how she looked, but I have a feeling you'd have more answers about my daughter than that plane."

"We're nearly finished the inspection and were just about to go get you," Quinton replied, hands dug deep into his pocket and eyes on the floor.

"You'll need these," Mischa said, fishing all the keys out of her pockets. Her and Quinton's eyes met as their fingers brushed and her cheeks flushed. She turned to Vita. "Let's go take a look at that runway."

They ran out to the runway and each took one side of the dividing line, figuring it was safer to stay together than to meet in the middle. They took turns chucking away some braces, pieces of fencing, siding and parts of planes along the strip.

Once they reached the middle, footsteps crunched from the direction of the hanger. She and Vita both turned to see Quinton running over, expression more relaxed than tense. He wrapped his arms around Mischa's waist from behind and kissed her on the cheek.

"Aren't you two adorable?" Vita said dryly.

"Sorry," Mischa muttered and pulled away, wiping the smile off Quinton's face. "We should finish this up."

This half of the runway fared much better, and they were all running back to the hangar shortly without any attackers in sight. Mischa sneaked a glance at Quinton who looked as happy as she felt. They were actually going to get out of here and have a chance to save her father.

Vita pulled out her knife as they grew closer to the hanger. Frowning, Mischa tried to remember if she'd left Vita's other knife in the office or by the plane. Quinton pulled her close for a second as Vita walked through the door.

"Run!" Her father yelled from inside. Heavy footsteps echoed on the concrete followed by a groan and a thud that sucked the air from Mischa's lungs.

More footsteps crunched behind them and the loud clang of metal on metal from behind caused them to jump then stop any moves they'd been trying to make.

"We're going to need lover boy and those keys if you all want to live."

***

Any thoughts on who's behind the ambush? 

Thanks for reading.