Recruits (Keeper of the Water Book 2) (18 page)

While all eyes are focused on the Keeper, I watch Cassie, who remains beside the old woman, assisting in the water distribution. I’m ashamed to admit that this makes me jealous. Despite my absence from day-to-day life in the tribe, I
know
that Cassie is the most senior Amazon, that she’s spent more years with the Keeper than any other current Amazon. But seeing her play an integral role in such a sacred ritual makes me realize just how important she is to the tribe, cranky or not.

As several members of the Queen Clan receive their water, I spot a quick movement from Cassie, who bends over and dips a hand behind her back into the water. It shouldn’t be a big deal but for some reason it nags at me. I mean, the special water isn’t exactly a place to wash your hands and
Cassie doesn’t seem to do
anything
without a reason. But since I’ll be living with the tribe full-time very soon, it’s probably not the smartest idea to call her out on it.

When it’s my turn to take the water, Cassie doesn’t even look at me. I quickly glance at her for any clue about what she did but I see none. Instead, I focus on the Keeper, who pours a small amount of water into my cupped hands. I carefully drink it and feel a burst of life rush through my body. The sensation is refreshing and invigorating and instantly takes away any vestige of fatigue from my long journey. I feel so energized that it takes all my willpower not to turn around and start running north again.

Every Amazon appears to have a youthful glow, a renewed energy, a revived spirit. Even the Keeper takes a few sips, her pale skin glowing brighter than usual. Once my three recruits accept their water, the ceremony ends. I join Jane and my recruits for a few minutes, during which time they fill me in on the details of camp life and how they’ve been handling my absence. Talking with them makes me realize how close I feel to them though we haven’t spent much time together over the years. At least I’ll get to know them better once I return to the tribe for good…

But now is not the time to be in a tribe-living state of mind. My mindset is totally focused on the pilot and my final recruiting trip. She’s the highest profile candidate yet and I already
feel
like it will be my most dangerous trip. My mentor and recruits wish me luck and I turn back north. But before I disappear into the night, I glance back long enough to see Cassie slinking into the jungle in the opposite direction, not a single woman from her clan following…

-
- - - - - - - - - - -

My body moves on instinct alone, speeding in and out of trees, leaping over gnarled exposed roots and moss-covered rocks, easily skipping over streams as wide as twenty feet. Although my mind wanders to a past that once was, I still avoid being seen by any of the cars along the highway a few dozen feet to my left. Even when I approach less rural areas and the forests disappear behind me, I stick to the shadows of the cities, back alleys and abandoned warehouses and any other unsavory places devoid of focused human life. Luckily, these stretches of city are few and far between and most of my trip is spent within the trees.

The hours of running melt away as the sun slides across the sky. I move as fast as I can ever remember yet I’m still far away from where I need to be,
hours
away. I’ve tried not to focus on the thought of my mother in danger but it’s hard to ignore that she’s still so many states away. I don’t know who’s watching her but I vow to make her stalker pay if he –
or
she – harms a single hair on Katina’s head.

I’m so lost in thoughts past, present and future that I barely notice the unusual sound that booms across the land. My brain doesn’t register it until the noise disappears into the distance – probably some sort of tractor-trailer. I don’t give it a second thought until I hear the noise again, this time noticing it from afar as it comes closer and grows louder.

This is no big truck.

I realize the sound comes from
above
and for the first time in hours, I slow down when I reach a break in the trees. I catch a faint whiff of smoke but it’s coming from down instead of up. My feet feel very warm and I look down to see my new sneakers already falling apart.

The deep booming is soon accompanied by a massive shadow over my spot in the woods. Up in the sky, the sun is blocked out by a massive gray object. It moves slower than it should. At first, I don’t even know what it is though my mind automatically – and ridiculously – thinks of a UFO. The idea
should
be ludicrous but is
anything
crazy considering the things I’ve learned the last few days?

The flying object must be some sort of plane though it flies very low, not much higher than the tops of the trees. It looks nothing like the biplane from yesterday but I can’t help thinking of Celeste telling me that the pilot is somewhere out there. Before the plane gets too far away, I pull out the single firework from my pocket and light the fuse.

The sky momentarily explodes in a burst of color and I stare through the trees for a long moment, waiting for the low-flying plane to return. Am I too late? Did I wait too long to set it off? Or does the appearance of the plane have nothing to do with me? The timing
can’t
be coincidental but when several minutes pass and the plane doesn’t show back up, I shake my head and continue running.

I don’t make it very far. I barely have time to reach my top speed when the sound reappears. Since I moved from my original spot, I have no other choice but to rush toward the highway where I can be spotted. I have a clearer view of the sky and especially the jet fighter that screams in my direction, lowering toward the ground.

I’m not the only one who sees it. I leap over several cars that swerve off the side of the road to avoid the fighter plane, which skims the top of a big truck before touching down on the pavement. It only takes a few seconds for a twenty-car pile-up to totally block traffic behind the plane on the highway’s northbound side.

Sirens wail in the distance. Unfortunately, that’s a sound I’ve grown all too familiar with the last couple days. The plane finally whines to a stop and the cockpit opens. This is far too coincidental
not
to be for me but I’m still surprised when the pilot from yesterday’s biplane stands up and waves to me.

But she’s no mere pilot. Clad in a leather goggles and helmet, bomber jacket and flowing scarf, I no longer doubt who she really is. I shouldn’t be surprised to see any historical person alive but I’m still in awe at the sight of Amelia Earhart.

“Hurry, Mentor!” she calls out.

“Mentor?” Amelia asks upon introducing myself and explaining to her about life as an Amazon.

I’m aboard her silver plane, which is called Electra. I
should
know its name – I’ve been keeping close watch on her progress as she attempts her flight around the world. Since a successful journey will only make her more famous, it’ll be nearly impossible to make her disappear. I realize that the best time to approach her is
during
the historic trip.

Not that
that
has been much easier. At each scheduled pit stop in Europe, throngs of fans and reporters waited for her famous silver plane to touch down. I planned to intercept her somewhere in the Far East, which caused me to travel farther and longer than I ever needed, crossing great oceans and foreign lands I only read about. With less news coverage in this section of the globe, my plan might’ve worked perfectly had
Amelia’s
plans gone as scheduled. But mechanical problems created delays and changes to her flight patterns.

For several tense days, I ran or swam to exotic location after exotic location, narrowly missing the chance to speak with her. Just when I thought she might traverse the mighty Pacific before I could reach her, she landed on the island of New Guinea, a tiny speck on the map just north of Australia.

I arrived just after sunset and nearly cried in relief when I found the silver Electra on the island’s dirt runway. Several men milled about nearby but I ran quick enough in the darkness of night to avoid detection. I sneaked into the cramped cargo hold of the plane, pulling a tarp over myself in the back corner.

Soon after taking off, I revealed myself to the famous pilot. She wasn’t nearly as frightened by my unexpected appearance as I thought she’d be. More like curious. She left me with zero doubt about whether I made the correct decision to recruit her.

Her navigator, however, wasn’t quite so welcoming.

It’s unfortunate that the man named Fred is here, especially when I explain to Amelia who I am and the offer I make to her. Men aren’t supposed to hear about the existence of Amazons and the water but I have a feeling nobody would believe him even if he tried repeating what I said. His breath reeks stronger of booze than Toussaint’s ever did. I just hope he can’t hear me from his new spot in the back of the plane.

Amelia’s eyes remain focused on the sky in front of us. But sitting right next to her, I can see the hint of wonder on the side of her face. I end my explanation by telling her about the recruit/mentor relationship. Strangely enough, that’s the first thing she questions me about.

“A mentor shows her recruit the ways of the water and how an Amazon conducts herself,” I say.

“Aren’t you a bit young to be
my
mentor?” she asks.

Amelia has every right to be cynical – or every right to want me thrown from the plane – but her tone is light-hearted, even playful. For a woman attempting a very serious feat, she doesn’t seem to take herself so seriously. I can’t believe she’s not more nervous about flying so high in the air; looking through the cockpit window makes me more afraid than I ever imagined possible. I’m just glad to have our conversation for distraction.

“I’m not as young as I appear. In fact, you’re just a child compared to me,” I tell her. Amelia raises an eyebrow and for good reason. Though still youthful, she’s pushing forty while I barely look half the age – the key word being
look
. “I’m over 150 years old.”

“Did I hear you say you’re 150 years old?” the navigator calls out from the cargo area, his voice slurred. “Don’t tell me you’re actually believing this garbage, Amelia.”

Fred tries to force his way toward the front of the plane. He glares at me through eyes that are bruised and quickly swelling, still angry that I was able to take his seat by force. A trickle of blood is pasted against the side of his mouth but he doesn’t bother to wipe it away.

“Please back away,” I tell the navigator, trying to remain diplomatic even though he didn’t offer me the same respect earlier.

“You’d better listen to her, Fred,” Amelia says. “I don’t think you want to go a second round with her.”

The navigator removes a flask from his pocket and takes a long swig.

“Fine, let’s see if she knows how to read a map or navigate through this weather,” he says, pointing to a sky full of gray clouds. “She’s a stowaway and should be thrown off the plane.”

“Do you want to
try
throwing me off again?” I ask.

“If she was as evil as you say, she could have thrown
you
out of the plane,” Amelia tells her navigator.

Fred shakes his head in disgust but returns to the back of the plane, where the engines whir so loudly that he can’t hear us talking. Amelia continues flying ahead and for the first time, there’s a moment of silence between us. I peer out the window at the darkening sky ahead. We’re up so high that I can’t even see the ground through the clouds below us, a surreal feeling that leaves me feeling utterly helpless. I understand how someone could find the experience of flying to be invigorating or freeing but it’s downright frightening for me.

“Obviously you can understand why I’d be skeptical,” Amelia says.

I nod. In her position, I might also question every word I’ve said. I was so sick when Anne approached me for recruitment that she skipped over the explanation and went straight to giving me water to drink. The way it healed me – and subsequently made me stronger and faster – was all the explanation I needed. I also helped Mary with water upon first meeting her and my two other recruits were so elderly and frail that a few sips was all the convincing they needed.

“I know it’s quite a story to accept but I assure you that every word I’ve said is true,” I say.

I show her the small vial of water, which glows bright blue against the darkening sky in the distance. Amelia has barely taken her eyes off the sky in front of her since I emerged from my hiding spot. She only glanced back when Fred leapt into the cargo area and tried to attack me, a decision that’s left his face battered and his ego bruised.

But Amelia suddenly stares in awe at the sparkling water and I can see she
wants
to believe what I’m saying. I glance back at Fred, who couldn’t have missed the sudden glowing and tries to crane his neck to see what I’m showing the pilot. I put the vial back in my pocket before he sees too much.

Amelia turns her attention back to the sky. Her eyes have a far-off look to them but I have a feeling it’s not the clouds in the distance that she’s thinking about.

“Imagine an entire spring of this water being guarded by some of the world’s strongest, most intelligent women. It’s Earth’s purest water, that which provides the life force for every living creature,” I say. “Of course it’s your choice whether or not to join us and it’s not an easy life so far away from the world you’ve known. But to help keep the world safe – not to mention staying young and strong in the process – has been the most rewarding experience of my life.”

I consider telling her my true identity, explaining how I once helped explore the American West the same way she’s helped explore the skies, but I don’t want to give away
all
of our secrets too soon.

“Don’t know if I could throw away my entire life for a magical elixir,” Amelia says. “Especially without knowing whether it works.”

I smile to myself; whether she’s convinced herself yet, I
know
I’ve got her hooked.

“I’m sure we could arrange for you to test the water’s powers,” I say. “Drinking what I’ve got should visibly take away years but that won’t be the biggest change to your body. The moment you feel how
strong
you become – the connection you feel with Mother Earth and all of her life – you’ll be convinced.”

Her eyes widen at the thought but the corners of her eyes soon wrinkle with concern.

“I wouldn’t be able to fly again, would I?”

“Probably not at first and maybe not for a long time. The tribe is hidden deep within the heavy jungles, far away from the roving eye of mankind,” I explain. “But over the last century and a half, I’ve seen the way the world has opened up, the way transportation has allowed access to difficult locations. We don’t know how long the jungles will be safe so we might need to plan for a speedy retreat one day, which is where your ability to fly might come in handy.”

Amelia nods.

“I love to fly,” she says, still gazing into the distant. She doesn’t speak for several seconds but I know there’s more she wants to say. “I
want
to fly around the world but I feel like it’s more of a PR stunt since I’m running out of things to accomplish as I get older. Maybe it
is
time for a new chapter in my life but I
can’t
just disappear and let people think I failed.”

Again, her words say one thing but the look in her eyes says another. She’s torn, the way any strong woman would be in this situation, but I’m out of words to convince her. Now it’s a decision she must make on her own.

“Oh no, I nearly forgot,” she says, looking down at her watch. She grabs the small radio nearby and turns a few knobs. A burst of static erupts from the small speaker and she smacks the side of it, muttering to herself about how ‘the thing is a piece of junk.’ The static is finally replaced by a high-pitched whine. Amelia presses the transmit button. “Howland Island, come in. Howland Island, do you copy? Over.”

There’s another burst of static from the receiver and Amelia whacks the side of the radio again, this time much harder. A voice finally emerges through the noise.

“ – is Howland Island. I repeat, this is Howland Island. Are you still there? Over.”

“Yes, this is Amelia Earhart aboard Electra. Lost track of time but all is clear. I’ll radio back when we’re closer. Over and out.”

I hear the radio operator’s voice starting to say something through the static but Amelia shuts off the radio, her mind clearly elsewhere.

“Patience is not a virtue I possess, as you can tell since I left New Guinea without waiting for a radio repairman to check this darn thing out,” Amelia says. “I
need
to focus on flying.”

“I understand, I
want
you to focus on flying,” I tell her. “Do you want me to sit in the back so your navigator can guide you?”

She shakes her head. “That man is worthless. Can’t concentrate when he’s sober but can’t stop himself from drinking so much that he’s no good to me. But that’s all beside the point. I can’t focus on what I’m doing while I’m thinking about your offer. You seem an honest woman and I want to believe your story. But I can’t totally consider the offer until I see some proof. And I don’t want to waste any more time wondering
what if
.”

I know what she wants, even if she doesn’t come right out and say it. I look toward the back of the plane, where Fred no longer pays us attention. He drinks from his flask and looks at all of his maps and charts. He still wears a scowl but I’m not sure whether that’s a look of anger or concern. With his focus elsewhere, I take out the vial again and pop off the cap. I put the vial to Amelia’s lips and tilt it just enough for her to have a single swallow.

Her entire body shivers and a tiny puff of steam escapes her mouth. I’m certain this is the coldest thing she’s ever tasted.

“Feels like my insides are frozen,” she says. “I would ask if this stuff is safe but I think I already know the answer.”

“Watch your hands,” I tell her.

As the water rushes through her veins, it quickly takes effect on her body. Amelia already looks great for her age, but no woman of forty has hands as soft and firm as someone half her age. Amelia’s are especially rough; she’s clearly the kind of woman that likes getting her hands dirty, another trait that endears her to me. But as the water works its magic, her skin softens and her wrinkles fade, her calluses disappearing. She has no mirror readily available but I can see the same results happening to the lines on her face.

“This is…” she begins, before bursting into a fit of laughter so resounding that it echoes within the loud plane. “I don’t know
what
this is but I feel
incredible
.”

Amelia pushes a lever forward. I have no idea what any of the buttons or knobs do but it’s impossible to miss the sound of engines
whirring
even louder. Within seconds, I feel the invisible hand of force pushing me against the back of my seat as the silver plane zips across the sky. I don’t think Amelia’s eyes could get any bigger or her smile any wider. I want to ask her to slow down but the sudden acceleration – not to mention the way she banks the plane hard to the right – stops the words before they can climb out of my throat.

I’m not the only one against her sudden change in flight style. The only other sound I hear besides the whining engines is that of Fred cursing loudly as he’s thrown around the cargo hold.

“Now
this
is why I wanted to fly,” Amelia says.

Seeing her look wild and free makes me recall the moment I left my abusive husband and ran fast and far, never once looking back. She’s enjoying her first experience with the water so much that I know there’ll be no going back to her regular existence now. She
will
be an Amazon.