The Quest (5 page)

“We might just be the last civilian transport out,” Terry said grimly as the kids filed onto the bus. “New Haven is falling.”

Terry drove, and I sat with Alia in the seat behind her.

“They’re not going to just let us drive out of here, are they?” I asked.

“You better believe they won’t,” said Terry, and then called loudly, “Everybody buckle up. Now!”

The Seraphim were taking New Haven from inside our buildings. There was no visible fighting on the open streets.

“Where are we going, Terry?” I asked, refusing to use her Guardian call sign.

Terry decided to let it slide, replying calmly, “There’s an airfield past the river, in the forest just outside the city limits. It’s a flight school. The Guardians never go there, so the Seraphim might not have blocked it off.”

A few minutes later, Terry said, “We’re being followed. There’s a blue SUV on our tail.”

Our minibus was still in the city, and the Angels weren’t going to attack us until we were out of public sight.

“Think you can handle one car, Hansel?” asked Terry.

“Think you can stop calling me that, Terry?” I said evenly.

“Fine, Adrian!” snapped Terry. “The car?!”

“Sure,” I replied. “No problem.”

“Okay. Let’s see if they stay with us.”

Terry quietly drove the minibus over a bridge that spanned the wide river at the edge of the city, and soon we were driving along a winding forest road that weaved through some low hills. The road was almost pitch-black and our headlights illuminated very little of it.

Sitting behind the driver’s seat, I couldn’t see the rearview mirror, but according to Terry, the SUV was still following us at a distance.

“You want me to take care of them, Terry?” I asked, unbuckling my seatbelt.

“Not yet,” said Terry. “They haven’t attacked. Maybe they’re not even Seraphim. They could be Guar–”

The rear windshield shattered as automatic gunfire tore into the back of the minibus.

“Heads down!” shouted Terry.

The old minibus’s engine roared loudly as Terry floored the pedal, but in terms of acceleration, not much happened. I got out of my seat and, crouching as low as I could, made my way down the aisle between the screaming, terrified children, toward the rear of the vehicle.

It was good that I was crouching, because a moment later, a giant fireball flew in through the shattered windshield and impacted on the ceiling, sending sparks and little dancing flames everywhere. The ceiling was on fire and everything was a bit smoky, but no one had been cooked.

I reached the back and peered over the edge of the broken window. Another burst of gunfire forced me to duck, but I saw what I was dealing with: a dark blue SUV about twenty yards behind us. Its headlights were on high beam, making it difficult to see inside.

“Terry, slow down!” I shouted. “Bring them in closer!”

Terry didn’t exactly slam on the brakes, but the minibus shook violently as Terry cut our speed in half.

I lifted my head up again and looked down at the driver and his partner, who were now right up behind us. Then I telekinetically grabbed the SUV’s steering wheel and yanked it hard to the left.

The SUV flipped over on its side, turning over twice before disappearing behind another curve in the road. I turned around and happily called up to Terry, “We’re clear!”

With the deafening sound of twisting metal and shattering glass, our minibus came to a full and very abrupt stop. I was literally launched off my feet, and only by using my telekinesis to steady myself did I manage to keep from flying through the broken front windshield.

Landing clumsily at the front of the aisle, I looked at the driver’s seat to check if Terry was alright, but she wasn’t there.

Gunshots outside. I jumped out of the open door and saw Terry as she was finishing off the last Seraph that had been part of a two-car roadblock we had smashed into. There were three other bodies on the road, and both of the Angels’ cars had been totaled.

Terry threw down her pistol, which was probably empty.

I said wryly, “Looks like they knew about the airfield.”

“Looks like they were sleeping on the job,” said Terry, picking up a heavy automatic rifle and resting its barrel on her hook. “They could have pumped us full of lead when we hit their cars. We were really lucky they didn’t.”

“Lucky,” I agreed. “But we’re on foot from here.”

“It’s only another mile,” said Terry. “We can leg it.”

Terry stepped back into the minibus and called, “Is everyone okay?”

Following Terry back inside, I saw that the baby in the young boy’s arms was miraculously alive and unharmed. I wondered how that was possible, but now wasn’t the time to ask.

Though quite shaken, everyone was unhurt.

Except one.

Perhaps the pyroid hadn’t been wearing his seatbelt from the start, or maybe he unbuckled it intending to help me deal with the SUV. Either way, when the minibus crashed, Peter broke his neck. He was dead by the time Alia got to him.

“Leave him,” said Terry, and we did.

The oldest kids carried the littlest ones, and Terry and I took turns carrying Alia as we half-walked, half-jogged down the remainder of the road to the flight school’s airfield.

Set in a large forest clearing, there was one runway, two buildings, and two airplane hangars with several small and medium-size propeller planes lined up in front of them. There was a tall iron fence running all the way around the compound, and a locked gate blocked the road, but I quickly levitated everyone over it one by one.

Inside was dark and silent, but we soon put an end to that.

“Stay here,” Terry said to the crowd. “We’ll be right back.”

I started to follow Terry toward a medium-size building next to the hangar, but then we heard the sound of a car engine in the distance.

Terry swore loudly. “These guys never quit!”

Terry called back to our group, “Everyone, get behind that hangar. Stay there!”

Alia led our newly acquired charges to the hangar as I followed Terry to the shadow side of the building nearest the gate.

“They could be Guardians,” I said.

“I know,” said Terry, checking her assault rifle. I noticed that it had an extra-large scope mounted on it. Terry pressed a button on the side of the scope, and then another.

“Night vision,” she explained, aiming the rifle at the gate and peering through the scope. “Now get away from me, Adrian. If they’re destroyers or finders, they’ll sense where you are. Get up on the roof and stay out of sight. We’ll see how they react.”

I did as I was told, levitating myself up onto the roof of the three-story building. But Terry didn’t wait for a reaction from the incoming vehicle. She started firing the moment the car, which was another SUV, busted through the iron gate. I couldn’t see it clearly, but I guessed that Terry killed the driver because the SUV quickly went out of control and smashed into a van parked nearby.

Dropping back down from the roof, I asked, “How’d you know they were Angels?”

“I recognized one of them,” Terry said grimly as she jogged toward the wrecked SUV.

I followed two steps behind.

The driver was riddled with bullets from Terry’s automatic, but the man beside him was merely knocked out.

This time, I was the one who swore.

It was Mr. Simms.

His clothes were spattered with blood from the driver, but his only injury was a bruise on his forehead. After checking that there was no one else on board, Terry dropped her rifle and opened Mr. Simms’s door.

Terry yanked the unconscious Mr. Simms out of his seat and onto the ground as she yelled furiously, “Wake up, you stinking bastard! Turned Angel, didn’t you?! Sold us to them! And they don’t even have a master controller anymore to make you do it!”

I pointed my right index finger at Mr. Simms’s limp body, but Terry grabbed my arm, saying, “No, Adrian! Not yet! We need to find out what he knows, what he told them.”

Alia had returned, followed hesitantly by about half of the kids. My sister was staring at me, aghast. I yanked my arm free of Terry’s grasp and looked away.

One of the older kids recognized my former unit commander. “Jesus, this guy’s a Guardian,” he said quietly. “He’s a Knight.”

“Not anymore,” said Terry. “He turned Angel on us.”

“Stay with him,” Terry said to me. “If he wakes and tries something, then kill him. I’ll be right back.”

Terry jogged off toward the main building alone. Alia knelt down to heal the bruise on Mr. Simms’s forehead.

“Leave it, Alia,” I said, looking down at Mr. Simms disgustedly.

My sister shook her head.
“He’s hurt, Addy.”

I shrugged. There was no arguing with a healer’s logic.

Terry returned a few minutes later with the rest of the kids, a toolbox and a length of rope.

Terry tossed the rope to the two tallest boys. “Tie this man up tightly. Arms behind his back, wrists and ankles together.”

Terry opened the toolbox and pulled out a large chisel.

“Keep him drained too,” said Terry, tossing the chisel to the boys.

Then she turned to the crowd and commanded, “Everyone stay put. I’ll go get us our ride.”

Alia stayed behind, but I followed Terry as she jogged, toolbox in hand, toward the row of propeller airplanes parked in front of the hangars. Most were small single-engine planes, only seating four, but a few had an engine on each wing and looked just large enough to carry all of us. But I realized that Terry was forgetting one very important detail.

Walking past the smaller planes, Terry said to me, “I was expecting at least one or two people to be sleeping here, but I think we might actually be alone. We’ll have to hurry, though. That Angel car breaking down the gate might have triggered an automatic call to the police.”

Terry still didn’t seem to realize the flaw in her plan, so I asked, “You’re going to steal a plane?”

“No, Adrian, we’re all going to sprout wings and fly.”

I ignored her sarcasm. “Where’s our pilot?”

“You’re looking at her,” said Terry. “Didn’t I tell you I used to fly planes?”

Upon reflection, I remembered Terry mentioning it in passing back when we first met, but I hadn’t really believed her.

“Only I haven’t flown in five years, and even then, I mostly flew single-engine props,” said Terry as we approached the largest twin-engine plane, which looked about the size of our minibus. “But don’t worry. I’ve had some time in twins like this too.”

I did some quick math in my head. “You were twelve years old when you learned to fly?”

“No, I was nine. I said the
last
time I flew was five years ago, Half-head.”

Terry placed her toolbox on the ground next to the side door at the rear of the airplane.

Gently running her fingers along the edge of the door, Terry mused, “I could pry this open with a crowbar or break a window, but…”

Terry reached up and gently pulled the handle. The door quietly swung down to the ground, revealing steps on the other side of it that led up into the cabin.

Terry grinned at me. “Fortunately, most pilots are complete idiots who don’t expect people to steal their planes. Doors are almost never locked.”

I couldn’t help chuckling.

I grabbed the toolbox and followed Terry inside. The cabin was much smaller than I had imagined from the outside.

“We’re going to be terribly overloaded,” said Terry, making her way to the cockpit. “I hope the runway’s long enough.”

That didn’t sound at all comforting, especially since I still had a very vivid memory of our last overloaded flight. Terry’s next words did nothing to alleviate my anxiety. “Where’s the damn ignition?” she muttered to herself.

“Can you hotwire a plane?” I asked, setting the toolbox down on the cockpit floor and opening it for her.

“Sure I can,” replied Terry. “It’s easier than a car, since planes are built light.”

She sat down in the pilot’s seat and looked over the cockpit controls. Then she turned her head to me and smiled. “Lucky again. This model doesn’t even use a key ignition.”

Terry flipped some switches. “There’s fuel too. Not full, but I think it’ll be enough. Go get the kids. And dump that toolbox. I want to be as light as possible.”

“Here we go again,” I muttered as I climbed out of the plane.

Jogging back to the crowd of kids, I found them standing in a circle around Mr. Simms. The former Raven commander was still unconscious, his arms and legs bound together behind his back.

I heard the engines sputter to life and said to the crowd, “Come on, let’s go. I’ll bring the Angel.”

I levitated Mr. Simms in front of me as I followed the children back to the airplane. Mr. Simms was extra heavy because he was built like a grizzly bear, not to mention the fact that he had a large metal chisel tied to his arm. Did we really need to take along this extra weight? Back in the plane, I asked Terry, but she said simply, “We need him, Adrian. He can tell us a lot. Don’t worry. I’ll get us up somehow.”

I shrugged. The weight issue was Terry’s problem this time. I knew nothing about flying airplanes.

There weren’t enough seats for everybody, so we got the smallest ones to sit in the laps of the older, and somehow managed to pull everyone’s seatbelt on. We left Mr. Simms in the aisle. After checking that the door was properly sealed, I joined Terry in the cockpit, sliding into the copilot’s seat and placing Alia in my lap.

“Don’t touch anything, okay?” said Terry, and Alia and I nodded.

Throttling up the engines, Terry quickly taxied the airplane over to the very end of the runway before turning us around. She wanted as much distance as possible to the fence at the other end of the strip.

Terry took two deep breaths, and then said, “Okay, here goes nothing. Hang on.”

Terry used her hook to push both throttles to maximum. The engines roared in fury. The plane inched forward, and then very slowly gathered speed.

“Come on! Come on!” Terry shouted at the plane, much as she might to me in the dojo.

I looked at her anxiously. The airplane, though moving pretty fast, was still on the ground, and we were rapidly running out of runway. I knew we should never have brought Mr. Simms.