When Lorna came to a stop before me, the rest of the room faded.
I took her hands in mine as she passed her bouquet to Patrick. Granted, in his gray suit, he didn’t look the part of a maid of honor. Then again, in the Sparrow world, nothing looked exactly as it appeared, even the man to my side. Sparrow had self-appointed himself my best man, and as long as I didn’t give it too much thought, it too was exactly what was needed.
Less like a civil wedding and more like the one Lorna may have imagined, the Honorable Judge Bronson began. He talked of love and commitment. He asked for rings.
We had those.
And then he asked, “Do you, Reid Murray, take Lorna Pierce as your wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honor, and keep her only unto yourself for as long as you both shall live?”
Lost in her stunning green stare, I found the right words. “I do.”
He then asked her a similar question. I listened for her answer.
“I do.”
Reid
Present day
I called the coordinates of the object we’d seen to Patrick on the plane’s two-way radio. It didn’t take long to realize that it would be a two-hour trip by motorized vehicle. Mountains and valleys had a way of slowing down ground travel.
“I have to land,” Mason said. “I’ll take us lower. Look for a clearing.”
“Why do I suddenly wish you had a thing for helicopters?”
Mason nodded. “It would be a hell of a lot easier to land.”
“We’ll leave right away,” Patrick said through the headset.
“Wait,” I offered. “We’re going to land. It could be a false alarm.”
“Over there,” Mason said, pointing to the north. “I can land there. We’ll have to walk back to whatever it is we’re seeing.”
I nodded his direction. This very well could be nothing. I knew that, but after over forty-eight hours of nothing, I was desperate for something. Flying back to the ranch and leaving the discovery to Patrick and Sparrow, who were at least two hours away, didn’t bode well. Too many things could happen in two hours. If this was simply trash that was reflecting, it could blow away. But if it was a person, he or she would be susceptible to the intense afternoon sun, scavenger birds, or poisonous reptiles. I pushed through, refusing to give those scenarios more thought.
Mason’s knuckles blanched as he steadied the control column. This controlled the pitch of the plane—nose up or down—and the roll—left or right bank. His neck straightened as his legs extended, pressuring the rudder pedals controlling the steering and the right-left movement.
As the plane banked and Mason lined up the settings with the ground below, I reached for the strap over the door. I knew that it wouldn’t hold me if we crashed. It was purely my need to hold on to something. My only other alternative was to hold on to the copilot’s control column. We both knew that wasn’t a good option.
The plane slowed as Mason adjusted the rudder and wing flaps. We both swayed from side to side as he worked to steady the fuselage. On this model of aircraft, the landing gear didn’t retract, so it was down and ready.
Lower we went.
This canyon was situated in a north-south corridor.
The plane wavered, shifting us one way and the other.
“Crosswinds,” he muttered under his breath as he worked to keep us steady.
My breath held in my chest as the ground came closer below us until we made contact.
Our bodies bounced within our safety harnesses as the wheels touched the ground. The uneven terrain made the plane jump and spring as we slowed. The brakes upon the landing gear squealed and the wing flaps quivered loudly as rocks and gravel peppered the undercarriage. Finally, we came to a stop.
I released my breath.
Hitting levers and switches, Mason quickly unbuckled his harness. “I need to check for damage.”
“Will you be able to take off from here?”
His green eyes came my way. “I sure as fuck hope so. If not, I’ll need an oversized flatbed to get this plane back to the ranch.”
I inhaled, conscious of the odors around us. There was a warm scent associated with the rubbing of the brakes and the tires skidding upon the hard-packed ground. What I didn’t smell was fuel or smoke.
Good signs.
Mason was out of the plane, walking quickly around the fuselage and inspecting the landing gear, the underside, and the wings. By the time I joined him, he’d made a full circle.
“What do you think?” I asked.
He looked at me with a grin. “I think I’m a fucking better pilot than I gave myself credit for.”
I scoffed. “Okay, pilot extraordinaire, I’m calling Patrick.”
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I hit his contact and placed my phone to my ear.
I waited.
Nothing.
Bringing the screen before me, I saw the symbol in the corner.
“Fuck,” I mumbled. “No signal.”
Mason looked up and around. “We’re too low. The mountains are blocking the cell signal.”
Nodding, I went back to the plane and turned back on the two-way radio. Using it would take away from the much-needed battery power, essential for starting the plane and working the controls during takeoff. As I turned on the plane, I noticed the fuel gauge—a little over a quarter tank. That was plenty to get us back to the ranch.
Would it be enough for takeoff and returning?
I spoke into the microphone, “Charlie Omega Alpha calling home base.”
“Home base.” It was Sparrow’s voice. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“We landed.” I looked around. “We’re in a valley within the canyon at the far west of Mason’s property. We don’t have a cell signal.”
“What did you see?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” I admitted. “Fuck, it could be nothing. It’ll take us some time to get to the coordinates. If there’s a signal there, we’ll call. If not, we’ll report back as soon as we get back to the plane.”
“There are capos about forty-five minutes out. I’ve sent them to the coordinates you sent.”
A sigh resonated from my chest. “I fucking hope this isn’t a wild goose chase, Sparrow.”
“It’s the most we’ve had. Call as soon as you can.”
“We will. Out.”
I flipped the switches, cutting all power to the plane. When I backed out of the copilot’s seat, Mason was there.
“Ready?” he asked.
“You have a first-aid kit?”
He nodded. “Yeah.” He walked around to a cargo hold and opened the door. When he handed it my way, he asked, “Wishful thinking?”
“Like Sparrow said, it’s the most we’ve had.” I looked off to the south, covering my eyes from the afternoon sun. “This way.” When I looked back, Mason had water jugs. “Wishful thinking?”
“Thought maybe it might be a good idea not to pass out from dehydration before we report back.”
“Good plan.” I turned to the south. “This way.”
The ground under our boots was hard and packed. The grass was brown and brittle. The dry season was about ready to give way to the rains of autumn. In another month, where we landed and were walking could be a stream or raging river.
Above us the sky was blue with white clouds floating here and there. In the distance, the taller mountains glistened with their white snowcaps. We both pushed on, through the crunchy grass, up and down hills. The shine I’d seen before was nowhere to be found. Mason and I exchanged glances. Each passing minute and football-field length we traveled lowered our expectations.
“Maybe I imagined it,” I said, stopping to take a drink of water and wiping the sweat from my brow.
“We’re here,” he said, looking at his phone. “The coordinates connected to satellites, not cell towers. Let’s spread out and cover this area. The grass is tall in some spots.” He lifted his eyes to the horizon. “We need to be certain that we don’t miss anything
before we turn around.”
I walked to our left while Mason went to the right. The plan was to go one thousand yards and then loop back toward one another. With each step, I scanned the ground in all directions. The dry grass and hard-packed earth were all fading together.
My feet stilled and hearing strained.
I waited.
Had I heard something?
It could have been an animal scampering to shelter from the hot sun or a bird searching for food. I looked up, scanning the sky.
The sound came again.
“Mason,” I called. “Come over here.”
“Did you find something?” he asked as he turned to come my way.
Once he was near, I lifted my hand. “Hold still and listen. I swear I heard something.”
The breeze that had tried to upend the plane whistled in our ears as we both slowly turned complete circles. The topography of the canyon caused sounds to echo. Maybe I was hearing my own breaths, my own steps on the hard ground, or simply the wind.
Nerves tingled my skin. Every receptor was on full alert.
“P-lease.”
Mason and I froze, our eyes speaking volumes.
He spoke first, calling to the wilderness, “Is someone there?”
Nothing.
“Hello? We’re here to help you,” I called louder than Mason.
“H-help.”
We both began to run toward a clump of large rocks. This time of day, the far side was a small amount of shade in the vast sunshine. Mason and I both came to a dead stop as we saw her.
“Holy shit,” I mumbled as I went closer. “Araneae.”
It wasn’t a question. I knew her identity.
Despite the sunburned skin, matted hair, bleeding feet, and tattered clothes, there was no doubt of her identity. We’d found Araneae Sparrow.
I knelt down beside her and lifted her head as Mason handed me the water. “Araneae,” I spoke softly.
Her swollen eyelids fluttered as soft brown orbs came in and out of sight.
I scanned her prone body searching for injuries while confirming her baby bump. Other than the obvious dishevelment, she appeared unhurt. “Araneae, can you drink?”
Her head bobbed as her dry, cracked lips parted.
I inclined the bottle, bringing the liquid to her lips. After a few seconds of her swallowing, I pulled it away. “I don’t want you to get sick.”
Her eyes blinked, each time staying open longer and focusing on me. “Help...” Her hand went to her throat. Her large diamond wedding band and engagement ring shone, reflecting the sunlight like a beacon in the wilderness.
I reached for her hand and turned it ever so slightly.
That was it. That was the flash I’d seen.
It was a miracle that her ring could make a flash strong enough for me to see, but there wasn’t another feasible answer.
“P-please...” Her voice cracked.
I returned the bottle to her lips. “Drink a little more. It’s okay, don’t force talking.”
She nodded as she again swallowed the clean, clear liquid. After I pulled it away, she said, “Thank you. Um...” She turned from me to Mason and back. “C-can you please help me?”
“Where is Lorna?” I couldn’t stop the question from spewing forward.
Araneae looked down. “Please, I’m pregnant.”
Mason nodded and began to walk away. With his phone in the air, I knew he was trying to get a signal.
I turned back to Araneae. “Are you okay?” I asked. “Your baby?”
“I think,” she said as moisture came to her eyes. Her nose flared as a renegade tear scurried down her dirty, sunburnt cheek. “I think I should see a doctor.”
“We’ll get you to one.” I let out a long breath. “Please, what do you know about Lorna?”
Her head shook. “I-I...”
It was going to be all right. We had Araneae. I had to believe we’d have Lorna too, soon. I lifted my head and looked in every direction. “Is she here?”
“I don’t know,” Araneae said softly. “I’m not sure where we are.”
I laid her head onto the ground before taking her hands. “It’s going to be okay, Araneae. Can you stand?”
Her eyes focused on me as she tilted her head. “My name is Kennedy. Do I know you?”
Lorna
I held tight to the metal frame of the bunk bed, waiting. The door closed and locks engaged. A moment later, light illuminated the cell I now occupied alone. Heaviness filled my chest and questions packed my mind and heart with concern as I ripped the blindfold from my eyes and took in the room I’d once shared.
What had happened to Araneae?
My thoughts went back over the recent past.
After the question-and-answer session, I was fed. It wasn’t more than an inexpensive insta-meal. The macaroni and cheese was gritty with its instant cheese powder. The ham was processed, reminding me of a canned meat we’d eaten as children. The green beans were overcooked and came from a can. It was surprisingly delicious, all in all. I was unsure how long it had been since I’d eaten and as I lifted each forkful to my lips, my stomach rumbled with satisfaction. In that moment, I didn’t care if I was fed filet mignon or instant macaroni. It was food.
The old proverb, beggars can’t be choosers seemed appropriate.
However, I hadn’t begged.
If the food had been withheld much longer, all bets were off.
After the food was gone, I paced the interrogation room, waiting and expecting the woman in charge to return for my answer. It caused the nutrients to percolate in my stomach. Finally, the door opened. It wasn’t her but Jet.
With my blindfold back in place, I was made to walk back to the cell.
Considering I’d arrived to that room unconscious and drugged, I preferred the new option, even if I was expected to do it without sight.
Throughout the journey, Jet was my escort. Since I’d seen him in the lighted room, I assumed the blindfold was to keep me from seeing the other parts of this...whatever this was. We walked for longer than I expected, going up and down concrete stairs. I had no way of knowing if it was necessary or a ruse to make me believe this compound was larger than it was.
At one point, we stepped through a doorway. The floor beneath my bare feet changed to sharp gravel. There was just enough space under my blindfold for me to see the ground below. Even though it was nighttime, the outside was artificially illuminated. Once outside, I lifted my covered eyes to the warm breeze.
While the breeze whistled through the air, there were no sounds of night creatures as I would hear on trips in rural Illinois. No crickets or frogs. I listened for birds or bats. I imagined fireflies sparkling over a field. Yet I had no indication that any of those were present. The only distinguishing characteristic was a scent of pine. I had visions of Sparrow’s cabin or maybe the air fresheners shaped like pine trees.
The gravel bit into my feet, yet Jet didn’t slow.
As we moved through the night, there were no other voices. No hushed conversations. No sense we were being watched.
How many people were here?
Also absent were the sounds of motorized vehicles, engines revving, tires on asphalt, or horns honking, all common things to hear in Chicago. As we walked, the gravel continued both ahead and beside me. There wasn’t enough of a gap in my blindfold to see beyond it.
Was there grass?
Was there sand?
I didn’t know.
And then we stepped up and over a new threshold, entering a building—a different one or the same. I didn’t know. The air inside was noticeably stuffier as if the day’s heat had settled within the cement-block walls, humidity dampening the concrete floor to where it wasn’t wet, but it wasn’t dry. The scent of pine was replaced by the musty odor I knew in our cell. This building contained more doorways and stairs. We stopped and locks clicked. We moved forward and doors closed behind us. I didn’t know if we walked in circles, up the same steps we’d gone
down, or repeated various hallways.
Finally, I was shoved through a doorway.
The room was dark.
Even blindfolded, I knew this was the same cell as before.
I felt it under my skin.
There was a familiarity that welcomed and saddened me.
I instinctively stepped toward the bunk bed, held onto the metal, and waited.
The door closed, the locks engaged, and the lights came on.
If it was possible to feel a multitude of emotions at once, in that split second, I did.
There was hope that when I removed my blindfold, Araneae would be present, fear for where she was and what was happening to her, and wishes that she was safe and back with Sparrow.
The reality was much lonelier.
Taking off my blindfold, I confirmed my fear: the room was without another prisoner.
That’s where I was now, back where I’d been with Araneae.
This cell contained a toilet and sink, two amenities missing from the interrogation room. I took care of business, washed my hands and face, and made my way to the bottom bunk. It was as we’d left it. The pillow and blanket from above were on the bottom bunk. I lifted the blanket to my face and inhaled, subtle scents reminding me of my friend. I imagined the way she’d been, and as tears filled my eyes, I reminded God of the deal we’d made.
“Please keep her safe. Please keep their baby safe. I willingly offer children I might one day have had.”
Thinking about babies, I admitted to myself that I was honestly inexperienced in their care.
Ruby had joined us as almost an adult.
As a child, I cared for my younger sister, but she’d been only a year and a half younger than me. When she was an infant, I was a baby. We grew up together, yet somehow, I’d taken on the role of caregiver along with our grandmother. We’d all taken our places in the life we’d been dealt. Mason was the provider. At only a little over a year older than me, he’d watched our grandparents. When they could no longer provide, he stepped into a role he was much too young to occupy.
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