CHAPTER 23

            The colors in the sky had begun to shift less than an hour after taking off in the sleek solar aircraft. The bold and vibrant blue had slowly drained away, giving way to a pallid and lifeless green grey. Storm colors. Jack eyed the changes carefully. They were still far from any cloud masses and Jack had yet to spot lightning, but something told him landing was in fair order. They’d already passed one airstrip several minutes before, but Harold had urged that they move a little farther on to see what was on the horizon and make good use of their mobility.

            The craft was surprisingly nimble and easy to fly. It responded well to Jack’s fingers as he plied the throttle this way and that, getting a feel for the plane. It was agile and eager to be in the air, despite its unwieldy wingspan and modest speed. Jack had been watching the airspeed indicator when they’d taken off–it had needed only sixty miles per hour to attain liftoff. Not bad for a three-man craft, Jack thought. Now they were moving at approximately ninety miles an hour, which was slow compared to the jets Jack was accustomed to in the old days, but still much better than slogging through the woods on foot.

            “Harold, how far did you say the next airstrip was?” Jack asked over his shoulder.

            “It should be right over the next ridge once you pass the lake,” Harold said. Then added, “Why? Are we landing?”

            “I think so,” Jack replied.

            “Why would we do that? I say we keep going until we absolutely have to land. Put some distance between us and them, you know?”

            Jack was shaking his head. “It’s best not to chance it. We’ve been in the air for an hour, the distance should be enough.”

            “But the sky’s perfectly clear. I don’t understand–“

            “Yeah but the color is strange. Neither of us really understand the weather patterns here, but this doesn’t look like clear skies to me. Best to land and wait it out,” Jack said with finality.

            The cabin went silent. Suddenly a high pitched noise filled the small space as a gust of wind whipped against the plane, rolling it to the right and pushing it stiffly aside. Harold made a noise through gritted teeth. Hyde whimpered. Jack released the throttle, deciding not to fight the wind. He was unsure of how much tension the aircraft’s wings could endure. If he pushed it too hard he risked fracturing the struts, a problem they were in no way equipped to deal with.

            Jack let the wind carry the plane off course for several seconds, then gradually reclaimed control. The plane lurched into the air as the wind slipped back beneath its wings. Harold and Hyde braced themselves as their stomachs plunged.

            “What was that?” Harold demanded once the nausea had passed.

            “Just a little turbulence. Shifting wind currents could mean a storm.”

            “Well then, we need to think about landing,” Harold said, as if he’d been insisting on this course of action all along. Jack wanted to glare at him but kept his focus on the controls.

            “Hyde, see if you can locate any backpack-looking things back there. They might be under the seats,” Jack instructed. Hyde did as told, feeling under his seat with the tips of his fingers.

            “What am I looking for?” He asked, his terror manifest by a wire-thin trembling in his voice.

            “Parachutes,” Jack said.

            “Parachutes! Why?” Harold said quickly. “You don’t expect us to…”

            “It’s just a precaution. If you find them, strap into them. I don’t know this plane and I don’t know these storms. Better to be safe than sorry.”

            Hyde continued searching. He kneeled on the cabin floor and reached his arm all the way back under the seat but found nothing but a small plastic toolkit. Next he tried peeling back the carpeting on the floor. Nothing. Finally, a plastic panel behind their seat backs opened to reveal a pair of black, rectangular packs with straps and plastic buckles.

            “Jack, I found them. But there are only two,” Hyde said, his voice catching.

            “That’s fine. You two put them on. I don’t expect to need them.”

            The sky was darkening. Distant flickers of lightning could be seen in faraway storm clouds to the west of the craft. Jack leaned forward in his pilot’s seat, staring down at the tops of trees. There, in the distance, was the hazy, grey outline of a large body of water.

            “There’s the lake,” Jack announced. “We should be there soon.”

            But Jack’s fleeting optimism was interrupted by another gust of wind, stronger than the first. It came from the rear of the aircraft and caused the plane to tilt downward and plunge. Harold and Hyde placed their hands on the ceiling of the cabin, pushing against it as the gravity vanished. It took all their strength to keep them in their seats. The weightlessness was terrifying.

            Jack nosed the aircraft down to gain speed, pushing air back under the wings of the plane and allowing it to stabilize. In another thirty seconds the cabin normalized but they’d lost nearly two thousand feet of altitude. All three were breathing hard.

            “We should’ve never listened to you,” Hyde spat angrily at Harold. “We should’ve just landed back at the first strip when we had a chance!”

            “Don’t pin it all on me, boy, it was the pilot hotshot that insisted to fly this deathtrap!”

            “How stupid do you think we are?” Hyde yelled. “You were the one that pressured him to keep going!”

            “Well, Jack claimed to be a pilot! How was I supposed to know he was incapable of handling a little inclement weather?” Harold scoffed.

            “Both of you just shut up,” Jack grumbled. He was only vaguely aware of their argument as he struggled to keeping the plane level. It was becoming increasingly difficult as the winds shifted, battering them from new and terrifying angles. The wings creaked and groaned as they twisted into unnatural shapes. Jack held his breath in dread as the left wing was caught by a sudden draft and plied upward, though it quickly sprung back to its original shape as the wind passed. Jack’s relief didn’t last long. He knew time was running out. He need to find the airstrip, and fast.

***

            Naomi watched her husband pack his backpack from across their bedroom. She saw in him dogged determination that she’d not seen in many years, and it both fascinated and frightened her. He’d been home barely one day, and here he was, ready to leave again. He needed rest. He wasn’t thinking logically.

            “Charlie, I know how bad you want this, but it’s crazy to leave now. The sun is down and the wind is picking up. It sounds like a storm is coming,” Naomi gently pleaded.

            “They took a poor brother’s plane, Naomi. They killed animals. They stole from us and lied to others. I need to take responsibility for this,” Charlie said flatly as he stuffed a few pairs of socks into one of the pockets of the bag.

            “How is this taking responsibility? What do you expect to do?”

            “I expect to find them and stop them before they cause any more damage.”

            “But they’re in a plane! You’re on foot! What can you do?”

            “Yes, they’re in a plane and eventually they’ll have to land. There are airstrips just north of where they took off. I’ll visit every one of them if I have to. Then I’ll put a stop to this.”

            “How? What will you do? Handcuff them? Throw them in prison? What?”

            Charlie paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “Naomi. I know this is hard for you to understand. Adrina is doing well, and I’m so happy for you. But there are two–no, three–men on the loose out there, and they’re on a rampage. And two of them–they came back here, in my center. This is all on my head. I need to do this. I can’t just sit around and wait for more calls from strangers telling me what awful things they’ve done.”

            “That isn’t just your center, Charlie. If you’re going to blame yourself you might as well blame us, too. We all had a part in what happened there.”

            “You know what I mean, Naomi. My name is on the building. When there’s a problem, I’m the one that gets the call.”

            Naomi got up from the bed and walked over to her husband, placing her hands on his carefully. “Look, babe, I know how hard this is for you, but you keep thinking this is your fault and you’re wrong. It’s not. They are free moral agents, just like you and me and every other human that ever lived or will live. We can’t force them to do the right thing. We can’t make those decisions for them.”

            “Oh, I don’t expect to change them,” Charlie said with a sardonic laugh. “I think it’s far beyond that now. But I do expect to contain them. This is damage control, plain and simple.”

            “What are you so afraid of, Charlie?”

            “More things than I can even begin to describe for you. What if someone tries to stop them? What if someone gets in their way? What will they do? Need I remind you that one of those men is a trained killer? Who knows how many people he’s stabbed or shot or tortured.”

            “He was,” Naomi corrected gently. “It’s in the past. You don’t know that he’ll do it again.”

            “And I don’t know that he won’t do it again, either.”

            “Don’t be anxious about the next day, dear,”

            “I’m not. I’m anxious about right now, and I’m going to do something about it. I can’t just sit here and wait it out. I need this to be behind me.”

            “Ok,” Naomi finally said, giving her husband a tight squeeze. “I’m letting you go on one condition. You take me with you.”

            “Naomi, I don’t think–“ Charlie began, but Naomi put a finger to his lips.

            “I said one condition. Take it or stay. But I’m not going to go another day without my husband. I need you, you know.” Naomi stared deep into her husband’s eyes, glimpsing his strength and tenderness all at once. She leaned close and kissed him softly.

            “What about the kids? And Adrina?” He asked.

            “You say it like they’re children, Charlie. They’ll be fine. They can stay. Daniel’s more drained from this than he’s letting on and needs some rest. Adrina’s been pretty quiet lately, too. Sophie can look after her.”

            Charlie mulled over this for a few moments. Then he shrugged. “Ok. But we’re leaving tonight.”

            But Naomi was already headed for the closet, where she kept her outdoor gear.

***

            Madeline tossed and tumbled above the treetops as the storm worsened. Thick droplets smacked against the windshield and smeared across the glass windows. Jack fought the controls, looking desperately at the ground for any signs of a tarmac. Even a stretch of grass, really. Anything would do. But he had to get her down and quick.

            “Can’t you do something about the turbulence?” Harold whined. “Maybe fly above the storm?”

            “No, if we fly too high we’ll never find the airstrip. We’ve got to keep low and keep our eyes open.”

            “I think I’m gonna be sick,” Hyde moaned. Jack couldn’t blame him. They’d been in serious turbulence for nearly twenty minutes with no signs of improvement.

            “Sorry,” he said. “Nothing I can do about this. Just hang on as best you can.”

            “Why didn’t we just land at the last strip,” Hyde grumbled. Jack agreed but didn’t respond. There was no sense in pointing fingers now. They could sort that out once they were safely on the ground.

            “I guess that’s just one more thing we have the professor to thank for,” Hyde added snidely.

            “I’ve had just about enough of your sniveling,” Harold glowered. “I had no way of knowing about this storm. It came out of nowhere and you know that just as well as I. Now perhaps you can manage to keep your mouth shut for the rest of our flight, hmm?”

            “Yeah, that’s convenient. As usual, you’re the one calling the shots until we run into trouble, and then you shift the blame. You’re a coward.”

            “How dare you say such a thing,” Harold hissed.

            “And another thing: I’m sick of you always talking down to me! You think you’re so much smarter than the rest of us just because you went to some uppity college. Well guess what, no one cares!”

           “I didn’t just go to some college. I was a professor at Cambridge, one of the most accomplished universities in the world. Not that I’d expect you to know that.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “You said it yourself a few days ago–you’ve never left your country. You barely got around to leaving your little backwater hometown. You’re a typical American, isolated and ignorant to the world beyond you. Have you even heard of Cambridge?”

            “Yeah, I’ve heard of it. Just because I never went there myself doesn’t mean I don’t know anything. I’ve seen pictures.”

            “Oh, that’s just swell then, I’m sure you learned a lot from pictures. I hear it’s a fabulous way of learning for those with limited attention spans.”

            Jack had abandoned all attempts to diffuse the conflict. After all, anger was easier to accept than fear. They were simply coping with a trying situation.

            “I was talking about photographs, not pictures in some book,” Hyde said.

            “And where, might I inquire, did you ever encounter photographs of my university?”

            “We had ‘em lying in a box in our house. They belonged to my mom. She visited there on a summer trip with friends. They had planned to visit some other areas too but she sprained her ankle and they had to cancel the trip.”

            Harold’s face changed as he looked suspiciously at the teenager next to him. “She sprained her ankle?”

            “Yeah, why? You gonna make fun of my mom now, too?” Hyde challenged.

            “What year was this?” Harold said, ignoring the taunt.

            “I dunno, why do you care?” Hyde said with a scowl.

            “1979,” Jack said from the front of the cabin. The mood in the small space had changed and Jack’s keen senses hadn’t missed it. He was approaching the lake now and hoping the runway was just on the other side. He was counting on Harold’s memory.

            “Your mother’s name…” Harold said slowly, his voice barely audible above the whistling wind. “Was it Fiona?”

            Jack’s heart skipped a beat. His eyes went wide. It took every ounce of composure to keep from whipping his head back to stare at Harold and force him to repeat what he’d just said. For a few brief seconds, he saw nothing beyond the windshield of the cockpit. No grey skies, no tree line, no lake, no storm head. There was only a face. His mother’s face. Then there was Hyde’s voice.

            “Wait. What? What did you just say? How did you… What is this? What are you trying to do? What’s going on?” Hyde was slower to piece things together, but Jack and Harold were locked in stony silence.

            “Hyde,” Jack said in a slow, measured tone that his brother could hear from the back. “There’s something you need to know about Mom. She lied to us.”

            “What? What are you talking about? What do you mean ‘she lied’?”

            “About her trip to Europe. When we were little she always said that same old story–that she tripped down a flight of stairs and sprained her ankle and that’s why they left early. But that’s not the whole truth.”

            “What do you mean? Why would she lie about something stupid like that?”

            “Hyde, listen. Our mom had a drinking problem. She was like that even when she was a teenager. You know about her trip to Europe with her friends after high school. Well, on one of the first days after landing in England, they toured through Cambridge and found a pub near the campus and started drinking. She met a guy that seemed to like her. On the way out of the bar she tripped and twisted her ankle. The guy took her back to his dorm, where things escalated. She woke up the next morning with a swollen ankle and a hangover. She couldn’t remember much of what happened, but after a trip to the hospital she and her friends decided to cancel the trip and come home.”

            “Ok, fine, whatever. I don’t see what the big deal is. So what, she was just out of high school and looking for some fun.”

            “Hyde, you’re not getting it. Mom got pregnant on that trip. She never knew the guy’s name, never even remembered what he looked like. But I think we just found him.”

            Hyde’s face contorted as he pieced it together. “Wait, you’re saying that this guy…” Hyde trailed off and shook his head in disbelief.

            “Heavens, you look so much like her,” Harold said quietly.

            Hyde was silent for a few moments, but when he spoke again it was a thin hiss through clenched teeth. “Don’t you dare talk about my mother.”

            “It was just one night. One stupid night. I had no idea she was–”

            “I said stop it!” Hyde screamed, his voice almost deafening in the small cabin.

            “Hyde, you need to pull it together! This is not the time or the place,” Jack yelled. Hyde fell silent. When he spoke again his voice had changed. It was calmer, yet insidious, a leaking gas valve waiting for a spark.

            “Jack, don’t you see? This is the reason that everything went wrong. If he hadn’t left, things would’ve been different. Mom would’ve never had to raise me on her own. We wouldn’t have had to struggle so much. I probably wouldn’t have gotten so sick. And she would’ve never met James… It’s all because of him.”

            The tone of his voice sent chills up Jack’s spine. “You can’t know that, Hyde. Mom was young and reckless. You can’t blame it all on Harold.”

            “Sure. Sure I can,” Hyde said. His voice was cold and icy. Jack heard the crack of bones meeting flesh as Hyde’s knuckles crashed into Harold’s face. Harold moaned as a trickle of blood leaked from his nose and through his fingers. He lifted a hand to shield his face and managed to fend off Hyde’s second blow, which slammed into the cabin interior. Hyde howled in pain and fury.

            Jack turned his head and glimpsed the chaos. Fists were flying. Both men were now bleeding and battered, clawing at each other as the plane rocked back and forth in the turbulence.

            “Stop it!” Jack screamed, but Hyde and Harold seemed determined not to notice. Jack leaned forward in the pilot’s seat, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of the runway, but there was only the bluish-black glaze of lake water staring back at him impassively.

            “Help! Jack!” Cried a muffled voice from behind. Jack turned again, beginning to panic. Harold was struggling to push Hyde away with both hands. Hyde was propped against his seat, pushing with his legs against the side of the cabin. In the hand of his outstretched arm, Jack spotted it–the glistening blade of his pocket knife.

            “Jack, please! He’s going to kill me!” Harold pleaded. His voice came through in gurgles and spats, his throat caught in the clutches of Hyde’s other hand. Jack glanced one last time at the trees and the water and the sky and then squeezed himself around the seat and into the fray. He deftly disarmed Hyde with a sweep of his arm and then wound his bicep around the boy’s neck, hoping to cut off his circulation and render him unconscious. But a sudden draft from below the plane threw the cabin into confusion. The plane banked and pitched downwards, headed straight for the trees. Hyde was still squirming, still trying to fight.

            Harold was screaming. Jack turned to face the front of the craft and realized why. Outside the windshield, there was no sign of sky or clouds. There was merely the endless expanse of black water. The planed had dipped downward and they were headed straight for the lake.