“We’ve been through this already, Naya.”
“Humor me. I was under duress when we last discussed the subject.” Meg absently began folding the blue blanket someone had draped over her lap while she was sleeping.
Sirus took a deep breath and blew it out loudly. “He wants to help you.”
“What does he want in return? Nothing is free,” Meg concluded shrewdly.
“You’ll have to ask him yourself.”
“Well, get him on the phone.” Meg arched one brow, challenging Sirus.
“I don’t have permission to do that.”
“Then get permission.”
Sirus took a slow deep breath and narrowed his eyes at the determined girl who shouldn’t even be able to hold a coherent conversation after being comatose for the past three and a half months. She was healing fast.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I already told you. I don’t have permission.”
“Do you always follow orders?”
“Always.”
“Even if they don’t make sense to you?”
“It’s not for me to make sense of anything.”
“Are you sure?”
Sirus squinted suspiciously at Meg as she held out the folded blanket for him.
He frowned briefly before reaching out and taking the bundle. When he did, their hands brushed.
“You were ordered not to let me touch you, yet…” Meg glanced down at their overlapping hands.
Sirus flinched and yanked his hand back as though dodging a snake’s fangs.
The blanket fell to the ground.
“Oh, here,” the flight attendant smiled, causing some serious cracks in her spackle-like makeup. “Let me get that for you.” She handed them their sodas then leaned down to pick up the blanket.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked innocently.
Meg sat back in her seat, arms crossed, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully.
Sirus watched the girl’s profile for a moment too long before answering, “No, thank you.”
The attendant walked away with a frown planted firmly into her caked-on foundation. Something was strange about those two, and vaguely familiar about the girl. She was sure she’d seen her face somewhere before.
“What’s up?” a male attendant asked when he saw his coworker frowning and glancing nervously back down the aisle at the dark-haired girl and her football player companion.
“I swear I’ve seen that girl before,” she nodded toward Meg.
The second attendant peered down the aisle and squinted his eyes. He really should be wearing his contact lenses, but the dryness of the plane’s cabin wreaked havoc on them. “Is she a celebrity?”
“I think I saw her on TV…”
“I’ll have to get closer and look. Have you given them snacks yet?”
“No.”
“I’m on my way. If she’s been on TV, I’ll remember. You know I record everything!”
Chapter 45 Maze
“See, all you have to do is keep your body straight. Your feet should roll heel, toe. Your knees should land straight above your ankles. Even your pumping arms need to swing straight ahead.”
Sloan was concentrating on her form as she ran through the rural dirt roads etched into the scenic Egyptian terrain between Cairo and Giza. The family had left the US and taken quiet refuge in North Africa, but however far they ran, however much they kept to themselves, they still looked over their shoulders, waiting for the next attack.
Sloan had taken an intense interest in physical performance since the day of the attack in Flagstaff. Cole knew she must have felt weak and useless, so she was deliberately working hard to develop her skills. She never wanted to feel that helpless again. For the past three months, Sloan had jumped right into archery and mixed martial arts. Now she wanted to learn how to run.
Cole had changed a lot over the past three months since Meg’s disappearance. The combination of the events in Kentucky and Arizona seemed to have scared him straight.
The day Evan insisted the family leave Meg and rush into hiding changed everything. Evan was a completely different person, sullen and withdrawn. Margo, still wheelchair bound, seemed to spend all her time with Danny. Theo found his niche working in the ER of a local hospital where his skilled hands and easygoing nature helped him fit right in. Sloan worked as a researcher in the pathology lab at the same hospital, her sharp mind having picked up the language quickly. Everybody coped with their exile and the loss of their own as best they could.
Some better than others.