Day Sixteen ∞ Saturday morning

NINE O'CLOCK FOUND DANNY wide awake but tired, unable to fall asleep again, momentarily surprised to be in his own bed. He'd spent so many nights sleeping on Mickmi's floor, he'd almost forgotten how good a mattress felt.

Mickmi!

He jumped up and left his room, pausing a moment to ascertain Mother's location. He could hear her talking with Gina downstairs so he padded barefooted to the guest room, rapped lightly on the door, and pushed his head in.

She was still there. He sighed in relief, a tad envious of her ability to sleep with all that was going on in her life.

Get as much as you can. He pulled the door shut and returned to his room to start organizing what he was going to carry. Change of clothes, extra underwear. His baseball cap. Toothbrush. A small towel from the linen closet. One for Mickmi too. His hunting knife in its leather sheath from the wall.

And cash.

He dug into his sock drawer and pulled out three wads of bills tied with elastic. His plans for his savings were on indefinite hold now. His gaze became distant as he weighed them in his hands.

Would this be enough? But he couldn't just leave his family without considering them.

He returned one wad to his drawer, knowing that when his mother searched his room for clues to his leaving, she'd find it.

Looking at the pile on his bed, he decided against getting his camping backpack from the basement. Too big and conspicuous. He'd use his regular knapsack instead. And carry his water canteen and flashlight. If he could get the new blanket to fit in the bag, he'd pack that too. Better be prepared to sleep under the stars. Or maybe they'd be doing that during the day—they'd probably be traveling by night. Easier to hide.

When Danny headed downstairs, Gina met him at the bottom and gave him a quick hug.

"Morning, Dan," she said chirpily, but her expression was that of concern. She pointed with her head at the kitchen before she passed him to go upstairs.

Danny remained standing for a moment, drew a long breath, then walked into the dining area.

"Good morning, dear. Slept well?"

"Morning, Mom." He didn't feel like talking. He went to the table where a bowl of grits waited next to his cup of coffee. He stood staring at it, then looked across the counter where his mother had returned to the stove to tend to the bacon and eggs. He swallowed against the lump growing in his throat.

Breakfast.

This was probably the last time he'd have a normal, home-cooked meal—the last moments to share with Mom before things went crazy and destroyed their relationship for good. He'd better savor it. His brow furrowed as he pulled out the chair and sat down, his eyes suddenly becoming moist. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes.

"Where's Mickmi? Is she coming down for breakfast?"

"Huh?" He looked up as his mother came with a laden plate. "Oh, she's still sleeping." His voice felt coarse. He reached for the butter and dropped a lump on the grits.

"Are you okay?" she said, placing the eggs and bacon before him.

"I'm fine," he lied and dug in, avoiding her gaze.

She studied him a moment, then said, "Your sister and I'll be going to the Spectacular to see the tournaments in a bit. Will you be going? You...," she hesitated, then returned to the kitchen area before continuing, "usually meet us there."

Danny washed the mouthful of grits down with some coffee. "Yeah, well, I don't know this time. Depends on Mickmi." He looked at the bowl with a frown, wondering how he was going to finish it. He didn't really have an appetite even though he was hungry. But he couldn't let his mother suspect something was wrong.

"You know, our friends from New Jersey will be there," she said, taking the dish towel and twisting it absently before picking up a cup to wipe dry. "It will be so good to see them again. You know how long—"

Friends...

Danny tuned her out as she entered her talkative mode. He didn't know whether he'd see his family again, let alone his friends. Or whether he'd even come out of this whole thing alive.

He pressed his lips together. If that was the price he was going to have to pay, then so be it. He would give it all up because he had no intention of giving up on Mickmi.

Not now.

Not ever.

∞

"I hope y'all ready and packed," Jagg said with a rare grin on his face as he stepped inside the house. "The van's outside and waiting."

Toni jumped up and pulled Lora with her. "Let's get our stuff!"

"Patty wants to talk to you at the station," TJ said, picking up a sheet of paper as the girls disappeared to their room.

"I know, Pace told me." Jagg headed for the kitchen to get some water straight from the pipe. TJ followed, and as Jagg turned to lean against the counter after quenching his thirst, TJ slapped the paper onto Jagg's chest.

"Talk to the girl. Something's wrong with her. And yesterday she looked like she was gonna take a bike and split."

Frowning, Jagg wiped his mouth and looked at the sheet. It was a likeness of Lora in her original hairstyle. The sketch artist had even included her choker. "What did Patty wanna know?"

"Where she is," TJ responded, stepping back to sit at the kitchen table. "And if we know anything about the robberies in town."

"No worries." Jagg folded the paper as he looked through the window behind TJ. Outside, Sleek and Pace were in an animated discussion next to the newly purchased, used white van. "They haven't got a thing," Jagg continued as he met TJ's gaze. "We leave here as planned. I'll go pay Patty a visit, and you can wait for me at the plaza. It's not gonna take long. And if he decides to detain me, just go ahead. Sleek knows where we're going. I'll just catch up with you guys later."

He slid the paper into his back pocket and headed for the girls' room. Their door was half open, but he rapped on it anyway before entering. Toni was showing Lora something at the dresser, and three packed bags sat on the bed.

"Remember," Jagg said, "don't leave an empty closet. We're moving up—but we're not trying to make it look like we've actually moved out."

"There's plenty left in there," Toni replied with sparkling eyes, pointing at the wardrobe. "See?"

Jagg nodded and jerked his head sideways.

Toni patted Lora, "I soon come." Then as she passed Jagg, she said, "Be nice."

A corner of Jagg's mouth went up, but he didn't answer. He closed the door behind her and turned to Lora who was watching him, her face still. He studied her a while before he spoke.

"You got something to tell me?"

Lora lowered her eyes for a moment. "I thought I was the only survivor."

"So you're not." He didn't move from the door. "You said she's your sister. But she didn't recognize you."

"We have only met twice. Thrice now. We are sisters by nature, not by nurture." She turned away, looking through the window.

"You mean, you didn't grow up together." Jagg understood how important family was. He just hadn't expected it to be a factor for his new partner. How this development was going to affect his crew's way forward was his main concern. "You must be happy to find you've got family here, though." He cocked his head when she didn't respond. "What were you planning to do? Go talk to her?"

Her shoulders heaved. "She wants not to see me. I have broken my honor."

Honor? "No, you haven't." He strode over to Lora and spun her toward him. When she met his gaze, he could see her weariness. "Your honor is with us now. And you haven't broken it," he said firmly, not bothering to add, At least, not yet.

He couldn't tell if what he said made a difference to her—she just stared at him for a few seconds before she pulled away and picked up her tubular bag.

"I am ready to go," she said.

∞

A slight shift in movement made Selina open her eyes and cast her attention past the trailer-head tractor pulling the vessel. The road had turned slightly northward but the view on either side was just more of the same. Dry and mostly featureless, randomly dotted with small, hardy shrubbery, and evidence of a neighbor—a long, old wire fence. An occasional hermit of a hill sloped gently to the road, deceptive in its isolation since it really was a detached finger of a greater range of hills not yet visible from the road.

Arid and unfriendly like the abandoned lands of the Earth That Was Beyond Reach.

The road had been running dead straight for a while after leaving the last city, but now it targeted the hills that filled the horizon with unwavering intent.

Their destination was growing near.

Over thirty-three hours of nearly non-stop travel had brought her here. She needed to determine when she should make her next move in preparation for the arrival of her Queen.

The hours spent at the library researching this Earth were coming to good use. At an altitude three times that of the gunship below her, she saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time with her own perception. A gentle curve of blue with its location and spread matching that of her Earth. But this Pacific lacked the strategically located floating city near the center of the ocean, midway between the two continents. New Stocolmo was where the giant crystal dome was situated, where her new Queen should have taken up residence.

That was all in the future past.

Spread out below her was the Rocky Mountain range waiting to swallow the ant-like convoy creeping across the land. A quick scan revealed an occasional town, circular spots of farmland randomly dotting the landscape like Braille, along with occasional road grids and sparse clusters of buildings. Mountain slopes were streaked by gullies leading to dry valleys and white patches of salt lake beds. The rays of the morning had yet to touch them.

What drew Selina's interest, however, was a handful of scattered airstrips and associated buildings. She was certain their destination could be in the vicinity of one of those, but it was too early to tell which. With the layout of the land mapped in her mind, she returned to the vessel.

∞

The final directions to Destination codenamed Casper had been received. Clouds of desert dust billowed over and behind the convoy as it approached the two red posts and the signs warning of their entry into the restricted military area, against trespassing and photography. In another hour, it would reach the security checkpoint and enter the next phase of the operation. Then, once the EBE provided the technical team with access to the ship and whatever else they needed, Apocalypse could look forward to having free rein.

He was surveying the expanse of the mountain range for landmarks, ignoring the pain that had spread to a gnawing at the back of his head, when the crew chief at the machine gun shouted to him.

"Sir! Pilot's reporting unknown activity below at our four."

Apoc grabbed onto the door opening and looked down in the direction of four o'clock as the gunship started banking to give him a better view.

At first, he could not see anything out of the ordinary, with the trailer partially obscured by the dust cloud. But seconds later, a wind shift swept the dust sideways from the column, and he could discern a shift in the yellow tarp, its color darkening. The trailer started to wobble and slowed down, forcing the armored car behind it to pull brakes and swerve off the dirt road into desert shrubs. The covered jeeps and black sedan at the rear fanned out, stirring up a bigger cloud. The tarp disintegrated, exposing the ship that pulsated orange as it lifted the trailer bed into a slight angle, tilting the back wheels of the Deuce-and-a-half off the road.

"Take us down," Apoc snapped to the crew chief. "Notify Casper that we have unauthorized activity. Weapons tight. Tell them to take precautions."

The brackets cradling the ship appeared to soften, giving way as the ship pulled out of its grip, lifting off the trailer bed. The trailer bounced a couple of times as it dropped back, landing halfway across the road. The ship floated sideways several meters before settling on the parched ground. Then the faint bubble expanded around it.

"Will advise on sit-rep in three mikes," Apoc said to the crew chief as they barely touched ground in a dust storm over fifty meters away. "We need to get that bitch on the wire or we're going to rain hell down on her and her bullshit story." He jumped out and ran with his arm covering his mouth and nose. The gunship took to the air again as he passed one of the army jeeps from the convoy facing the scene at striking distance.

Apoc strode up to the perimeter of the translucent shield. The ship stood on three fin-like legs at the center of the bubble, its hull cooling to its animated gray.

Before he could call out, a tongue grew from the side of the ship, leaning like a gentle ramp to the ground. Selina stepped out through the hull and walked down the slope toward Apoc. She stopped two meters inside the shield boundary to face him and waited.

Selina knew she was taking a risk. But she had seen the ocean and knew the multiple rapids that led to it. All the possible tributaries to the situation that she could think of had been considered. What she needed to do was to keep that balance, that fine line of maintaining her non-threatening posture while achieving her goal—and minimizing the repercussions. It was a balance of life and death.

"You are trying my patience, Snow Ghost. The technicians are expecting us at our destination, and we're already off schedule."

"They can wait, Major," she responded, her voice level. "I have traveled without food for thirty-five hours. You and your men have traveled without real cooked food for the same period. I am sure they would appreciate some." She kept the faint smile on her lips.

Apocalypse smirked. "I couldn't care less about your comfort levels. You seem to forget that you are suspected of being a threat to National Security. I'd kill you now if they'd let me. Bear that in mind and be very cautious."

"I am very aware of what you think of me, Major," she responded without blinking. "And you remain wrong. A – good – meal and coffee, is all I ask. Not breakfast. I shall wait here until it arrives. It is a... perfectly – reasonable – request." She had no idea whether he would grant her the request without her entering his mind again. "Even a person facing the death penalty in your system is granted one last request."

A puff of air escaped Apocalypse's nostrils. "The only system that applies here is mine. There is no fucking last request."

He paused, then spoke to his earpiece without taking his eyes off her, "All units, stand down." He kept his irritation in check, but it was palpable that even his men knew it. "Say again, stand down." Then with a small hand signal, he had his men back out of earshot. Only five remained behind him, the radioman and the four who had been guarding her from the beginning.

"Right now, you're interfering with the transfer of this ship to the facility. If you understand the severity of your situation, then you must have a reason, a hidden agenda for causing this delay. This is your last chance to speak the truth. What are you not telling me?"

That was the correct question. This time, Selina saw no need to avoid it. "I await the arrival of the true operator of this vessel."

Apocalypse showed no surprise, but there was a gleam in his eyes. "So... you admit that you lied about the number of occupants that came in the ship?"

"No. I lied not about the number. We were always two."

"A lie nevertheless—because you said the second occupant was your ghost. Which confirms once again that you cannot be trusted and therefore are a threat. Where is this operator?"

"She is on her way here to her vessel." That was the truth, whether her Queen had started the journey or was about to.

"And you know this, how?"

"The vessel received communication."

"So," Apocalypse's eyes narrowed, "you suffered through interrogation to hide this unknown from me all this time. Why?"

There was little left to hide now. "To give her time to recover her memory."

Apocalypse digested the revelation for a moment. "You mean, she had amnesia."

"Yes... She is now able to represent herself. She was not, before."

"You could've saved yourself the trouble. We have excellent methods of reviving memories."

Selina smiled a little. "It was no trouble as far as I am concerned. I achieved my purpose—I gave her the peace and time to recover her memory the natural way."

"Your – purpose... Hm." He nodded. "What other purpose do you serve?"

That was also the correct question. Selina was not going to avoid it. "To hold this vessel until she can present herself."

Apocalypse studied her. "Where is she now?"

"I can find out," Selina said, about to return to the vessel. She had no intention of pinpointing the location, but she knew Apocalypse would know where to look. She only hoped that the Sword would have her Queen on the move.

"Don't even think about it," he snapped.

Selina turned back to him and bowed her head for a moment. "Please," she said and met his gaze, "allow her to come in peace. She will come. This is her vessel—there is no need to bring her here forcibly. She is of no threat."

"I'll be the judge of that." Apocalypse signaled to his men and turned to his radio telephone operator, "Give me Actual," and strode off toward the nearest vehicle that was parked over thirty meters away with two barrels pointing at the ship.

Selina stood inside the shield with four men watching her while she followed the radio operator with her invisible probe. She kept it hovering at a safe distance as he handed the receiver to Apocalypse.

"Actual," Apocalypse said and waited to be connected. "I've ascertained that the suspected unknown is loose and heading for the ship. E-T-A uncertain. I have little intel on her, but this is a viable threat. I'm going to change my posture to extreme prejudice and await the arrival of the unknown. I'll be in contact when she is snatched."

Thoughtfully, Selina withdrew her probe. The rapids were drawing near.

— ∞ —

©2017 by kemorgan65

Credits:

Banner video: Desert Driving Hyperlapse Free Stock Footage https://www.motionplaces.com/desert-driving-hyperlapse-free-stock-footage/