Emmy Laybourne - Savage Drift

He turned to go back into the cockpit.

“Mr.… Captain Roufa!” I yelled.

He turned.

“Thanks! Thanks for taking us.”

My friends added their own words of thanks and he nodded.

“Keep those suits handy,” he told us sarcastically. “There’s rumors of drifts.”

Fox opened the door and let down the folding ladder that served as the gangplank.

The sky was light gray, shot through with thin, wafting peachy-colored clouds.

The plane was still far out on the tarmac, engines running. I saw Roufa meant to proceed taxiing down the runway to the base. He was letting us off so we could disappear into the brush.

I took Astrid’s hand.

Niko went first, then Jake, then us.

We went down the ladder and darted across the tarmac into the tall weeds at the edge of the runway.

Fox pulled up on the folding stepway and it disappeared into the plane. She gave us a wave. The door shut and the plane moved slowly toward Lackland AFB.

Our feet crunched over grass and twigs, branches grabbing at our safety suits. The weeds were gold colored, all dried up, and there were larger bushes, too, also desiccated.

Around us the plumage of the grasses started glowing as the sunrise spread up, filling the sky, and I realized that the feeling in my heart was joy. Joy at being free and living in the beautiful, wild world.

We went through a mile or so of grass.

“I can’t believe it,” Astrid said, squeezing my hand. “We did it.”

I was worried about her keeping up, but she seemed fine. She was smiling and much happier than she’d been in a long time.

“Captain Roufa was something, wasn’t he?” Jake said.

“Roufa-man!” Niko exclaimed, repeating McKinley’s nickname.

Niko was grinning.

Niko wasn’t a smiley guy, per se. But even back at the Greenway, he’d had moments of relaxing and hanging out with us.

I remembered once he’d made up a story about a girlfriend he had. An older girl who went to college.

He had dropped her—I’d never heard him mention her again. But he sure wasn’t that way with Josie. It was clear to me that he loved her. He was devoted to her, no question. Here he was risking his life to rescue her.

“Is anyone hungry?” Astrid asked. “I’m starving.”

“Mommy Junior needs some chow, people!” Jake announced. “Lord, do you think diners are running like normal? What I’d give for a short stack and a side of bacon extra crispy!”

“Mmmmmm,” Astrid moaned.

“Make mine a Belgian waffle with strawberries—fresh strawberries and real maple syrup!” Niko said.

“You know what I’d like,” I added. “A Spanish omelet!”

“Spanish omelet,” Jake mocked me. “You can have anything in the world and you want a Spanish omelet?”

“Obviously you’ve never had a Spanish omelet,” I answered.

“Please nobody say Spanish omelet again,” Astrid said. “The idea of eggs makes me want to hurl.”

We could see cars zipping by on the road.

“Can we take our suits off already?” Jake asked.

“Yeah,” Niko said. “I mean, you should. I might just keep mine on. Just in case.”

This was telling. Niko believed the drifts might be out there and was willing to keep the blousy safety suit on just in case. I didn’t blame him—if he was exposed to the compounds for more than a few seconds, he’d blister up. If he was exposed for more than a minute, he’d be dead meat.

We changed quickly. The suits being so big actually helped getting in and out of them quickly. Once I took it off my shoulders, I just kind of stood there and the whole thing ballooned down, settling around my feet.

The suits did not take up much room in our packs, thankfully. I packed Astrid’s and mine into my backpack, setting the masks, which were the most bulky parts, right on top. They were right there, if we needed them.

We reached the road. There was a Denny’s sitting down a ways.

“Denny’s!” Jake yelled. He whooped. “We made it back to the real world!”

We ambled toward the cheery signage and bright, squat building.

“God,” I said. “What’s it gonna be like?”

“What do you mean?” Astrid asked. She slipped her hand in mine. I shrugged.

“Denny’s after the fall.”

In the morning Mario is all over me about the letter.

“Imagine when those reporters find out you’re in here,” Mario tells me. For the first time since we had arrived, his eyes are twinkling again.

It reminds me of the long days we spent in his bomb shelter. He’d talk and plan and rub his hands together, so happy was he in anticipating Niko’s face when we were reunited. Or how good it was going to be for me when we tracked down my parents.

Sometimes it seems like my future is the only thing keeping Mario Scietto going.

Now he has that same fire back. He wants to get the attention of the reporters.

“We’ll hail them down and you start talking. You should say, ‘I’m Josie Miller, from this article here about the Monument Fourteen!’ just as loud as you can. Once they find out you’re in here, they’ll get you out. Special-interest story—absolutely. The power of the press! You’re presumed dead! They love that stuff.”

The kids are listening to us. Freddy bouncing on the bed he and Aidan share. Lori braiding Heather’s hair.

My body feels like it has been backed over by a delivery truck. Everywhere aches. My knees are skinned raw. I feel them sticking to my jeans. My knuckles are a mess, already festering around the edges.

“And don’t mind what happens to me,” Mario continues. “I’m going to keep Venger off you until you catch the ear of one of those reporters.”

“You can’t,” I say.

“Hell yes, I can!” he continues. “Maybe me and the kids can make a distraction.”

“Yeah, yeah!” they agree.

“Maybe I could fall and trip someone and then I’ll be like, ‘I’m hurt! Somebody help me!’” Aidan suggests.

“No, no, I have it!” Freddy interrupts. “Can anyone vomit on demand?”

“Shut up!” I shout. “No one is helping me do anything.”

Mario raises his hands to argue me down. He knows I will protest.

“It’s not because I don’t want help or I’m being tough,” I say, cutting him off. “Look, last night Venger threatened me.”

Just saying his name tightens my empty stomach into a knot of dread.

“He said if I step out of line he will send me away for some kind of medical testing. I don’t know why he has it in for me, but he does.”

Mario looks at me, his mouth set into a grim line.

“And if you guys help me, he could do it to you. He could send you away. No,” I continue. “What we’re going to do is lie low. Just like you say, Mario, ‘Look down. Look dumb.’ I’m going to play it really safe. I’m not going to provoke Venger. And we’ll get through this together. If, if I can get a completely safe chance to talk to someone, I will. Okay, you guys?”

I look to Mario.

He is studying me, trying to figure me out.

I am faking an interest in the group. Faking a new desire to protect the kids. Faking. No way am I going to let Mario get himself killed trying to talk to reporters on my behalf.