Behind us, the plane’s engines sputter to life. They rev and chug for a moment, then settle into a steady hum.
“Sprout, honey,” Julie says, “it’s time to go. But Joan and Alex can come with us.”
I look at her sharply. “They can?”
She looks back even more sharply. “Were you planning on leaving them here?”
“Well, I—”
“R,” she says, horrified. “Axiom’s going to cut through this whole hive looking for us. You want to leave your kids to be mowed down with the others?”
“No, but . . . they’re dangerous.”
“Who’s dangerous?” Abram says, stepping out of the boarding tunnel. “What’s going on?”
Sprout peeks shyly from under a silk negligee. “Hi, Daddy.”
Abram crouches down. He sees my kids staring at his daughter. “Jesus,” he spits and knocks the roof off the fort, grabs Sprout and carries her clear while my kids watch mutely.
“You broke it!” Sprout cries. “You broke my building!”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he says, glaring at all the adults in the room.
“We were watching them,” Nora says. “They weren’t doing anything.”
“They’re fucking zombies, for Christ’s sake.”
Julie stands up. The steel returns. “They’re coming with us.”
“You are out of your fucking mind.”
“We’ll tie them up and keep them in the back of the plane. They won’t be able to hurt anyone. They’re the closest thing R has to a family and we’re not leaving them here for your friends to butcher.”
I hear a new tone mixing into the hum of the engines. A lower-pitched drone like an ugly harmony.
“Using a jumbo jet as a getaway car is already the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” Abram says. “If you expect me to—”
“Quiet,” I snap, holding up a hand and tilting my head, listening.
Abram looks like he’s about to hit me, then he hears it too. He runs to the window and peers out at the northern horizon. Two black specks mar the blue sky. Three. Four.
The argument is over. Without further comment, Abram carries his daughter into the boarding tunnel. Julie and Nora look at me with wide eyes.
“Go,” I tell them. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Nora runs into the tunnel and pokes her head through a broken window. “Marcus! Get your beefy butt up here! Flight six-six-six is now boarding!”
Julie hesitates just a moment, then follows Nora.
I look at Joan and Alex. They look at me. I hope what I see stirring behind the dullness in their eyes is understanding, maybe even forgiveness, as I tie belts around their wrists.
? ? ?
There has never been a more efficient departure in the history of commercial air travel. The moment I lock the door behind me the plane shudders away from the gate. No searching for seats, no wrestling with the overhead bins, and certainly no safety demonstration. While I lock my kids in the bathroom—they seemed comfortable enough when I found them there—Abram races onto the runway like the plane is a sports car. The black specks behind us have grown into black lumps. Their warbling drone fills my ears like angry bees. I almost tumble down the aisle when Abram guns the engines and the plane surges forward.
“R!” Julie calls to me from business class. “Get up here!”
I fight my way forward while inertia drags me back. By the time I reach Julie, the plane is shuddering and shaking like we’re driving on a country road.
“Marcus!” Abram calls back to M, who’s sitting in the back of business class, several seats removed from the rest of us. “You cleared the runway, right?”
“Yes,” M says through gritted teeth, gripping the armrests so tight his fingers tremble.
Nora drops down next to him and smiles. “Scared of flying?”
His eyes are wide. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead. “Little bit.”
“I’ve never flown before. I’m excited.”
“Happy for you,” he growls, and Nora laughs. She reaches over and puts a hand on his forearm.
“Marcus. After everything we’ve lived through, we’re not going to die in a damn plane crash.”
M takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Nora pats his arm and settles back into her seat.
I fall into mine next to Julie and brace myself as the plane threatens to tear itself apart. She reaches out and grabs my hand, and I see no fear in her eyes. Despite everything, despite the many possible deaths circling our heads at this moment, the rattling of the plane and the choppers behind it and the unknown wilderness we’re flying into, her eyes are full of hope. It’s so bright that for a moment I swear there’s a glimmer of gold in their icy blue.
“Here we go,” she says, and with a final lunge, the plane leaves the ground. The shuddering stops. The only sound is the engines. We are gliding through space.