My eyes strained to see in the darkness, but I could vaguely make out the top of Jared’s head. He was back in his seat, patiently waiting for me.
“Thirty-thousand feet in the air with nowhere to hide and you still keep me guessing,” I said, falling into my chair.
But it wasn’t Jared. Sitting next to me was Gabe Ryel.
I recoiled, the arm rest digging into my back as I leaned away from him. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s been a while, Nina.”
“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” I said, perturbed. Knowing Gabe was behind my sleepless nights and the reason why Jared could no longer be within two blocks while I slept mustered up suppressed resentment, resulting in a bit more guts than I usually had.
“Talk Jared into turning back, Nina. We don’t have time for this.”
“Time for what? Why do you insist on being so theatrical? Just tell me what we need to do and we’ll do it.”
Gabe didn’t react. “Turn back, Nina.”
His eyes were black again. It made me more than just uncomfortable. His ice-blue eyes replaced by glass balls in his sockets was downright disturbing.
“No. Claire needs us.”
Gabe didn’t react to my insolence. He simply looked down at his intertwined fingers sitting atop his lap. He wore an expensive suit, the same I remembered when seeing him shadow my father, but his fingers were dirty and worn, as if he’d been digging in soil.
“Find the book.”
“How? Jared has talked to Eli, Samuel…no one will tell us anything!”
“This fight is not Jared's. It's yours.”
“Great. More riddles,” I said, crossing my arms. My muscles relaxed, thinking about the situation at hand. I looked to Gabe. Even with his shark eyes, he was still someone from my childhood that I loved. “Is Claire going to die?”
The plane hit turbulence, and a bit of bouncing evolved into what felt like a several-hundred-foot drop. As I gripped the arm rest, Gabe turned to me once again.
“Listen.”
“I can’t listen if there’s nothing to hear!”
“Listen,” he repeated.
The plane fell again, causing the overhead storage bins to vomit various items, and the already dim lights flickered violently until they surrendered, and the fuselage turned dark.
I jerked awake, and Jared sat where Gabe had been. The lights were on, and the floors were clear of debris.
“It’s you,” I said, relieved.
“Yes,” he said with a confused smile, “who did you think it would be?”
After a short pause, I shook my head. “No one. Just forgot where I was for a second.”
Jared nodded, and then rested his hand on my knee. “We’ll be there in two hours.”
He spent the remainder of our flight on his cell phone. He made arrangements for a car to pick us up at the airport, and for a friend, Colonel Jason Brand to meet us at Landstuhl with visitor identification.
Upon arrival, the pace accelerated. The second the plane came to a stop, Jared had the few things we brought with us in hand, and he held out my jacket.
“It’s chilly,” he said, helping me twist into the sleeves.
Descending the stairs of the plane, it was clear why Jared had to make so many phone calls. Pilots walked to and from their jets, crew chiefs were parking and marshelling out jets, while others were busy with flight inspections. Jet engines screamed as they prepared for takeoff.
We had landed at Ramstein air base. Jared’s connections spanned farther than I had imagined.
We rushed off the tarmac to the waiting car. The driver was a stranger to me. He spoke fluent German to Jared, so I was unsure if he was just a local or someone Jared had met before. He looked about Jared’s age. Light blonde hair peeked from his dark green ball cap, but his eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses.
“Warum gehen Sie nach Landstuhl?” the driver said.
“Claire’s Taleh ist verletzt worden,” Jared said.
The driver’s eyebrows pulled in. He was a friend. Jared mentioning Claire’s Taleh could even mean that he was a Hybrid, and by the features I could see, he was.
“Gutes Glück zu Ihnen, Freund,” he said, shaking his head.
“Danke,” Jared frowned. He leaned toward me, then. “He was asking why we’re here. I told him, and he wished us luck,” he whispered against my cheek.
Nodding, I hugged Jared’s arm to me. Landstuhl was just three miles from the West Gate of the base. The soldier guarding the gate seemed to know the driver, and after checking out his identification, let us through quickly.
An officer in a blue decorated dress uniform waited at the front entrance of the hospital.
“Colonel,” Jared said, shaking his hand. He was definitely not a hybrid, with his dark hair and eyes. “Nina, this is Colonel Jason Brand,” he said.
I shook his hand. “Thank you,” I said.