K. Weiland - Storming

Hitch hauled on the stick. Every muscle and sinew in his arms felt like it was tearing.

Jael hooked her elbow over the cockpit rim for extra leverage and leaned back, straining to pull Aurelia up. She threw her head back, and her mouth opened in a silent shout.

Hitch’s heart stopped beating altogether. The wind rushed cool against the sweat on his face. His own breaths whistled, echo-like, in his head.

On the wing, Jael had gotten her feet under her. She crouched, one arm still hooked over the cockpit, the other pulling at Aurelia. She moved her mouth. She was talking, trying to calm Aurelia no doubt.

But if Aurelia heard any of it, she was too fear-crazed to listen. Hanging half off the wing, she kicked both legs and flailed with her free arm. She hit Jael, she hit the wing, she hit the fuselage. She was slipping.

“No!” Hitch shouted. What they’d just done in catching her was a miracle. They couldn’t lose her now. “Aurelia, don’t you do this!”

He looked around. Find a relatively flat place to land. Aurelia might break her legs, hanging off the wing like that. But it’d be a sight better than breaking her neck. Ahead, the pale dust of a road blinked faintly in the darkness. That’d do. It’d have to do. He pointed the Jenny in its direction.

As the plane turned, Aurelia’s scream cut through the wind. For the second time, her hand yanked free of Jael’s.

She fell.

Hitch froze.

Aurelia tumbled backwards. Her violet dress spread around her like broken wings. Her white face blinked in the darkness. Her eyes stared straight at him, her mouth open and round.

And then the Jenny sped on past. Darkness engulfed everything.

Aurelia… gone.

For an instant, his mind was a vast empty space that held only those two words.

In front of him, Jael crouched on the wing. The night swallowed her black dress, leaving nothing but the dim outline of her arms and legs and face. She didn’t move.

He looked up. The night sky stretched, punctuated only by icy stars. No Schturming . No Walter. A scream of pain and rage built in his chest. But he kept his mouth shut and trapped the power of it deep inside. He couldn’t let it out. If he did, it would tear him apart.

He breathed in, a huge breath, until his lungs felt as if they would burst.

He waited until Jael collapsed back into the forward cockpit.

Then he raised the Jenny’s nose to the sky and climbed. He wouldn’t find the ship. And, even if he did, the chances of Walter remaining safe that long were next to hopeless. By now, the boy would have fallen too.

There would be no going back from this night. But he had to try. He’d fly until the engine choked from lack of fuel. Then he’d land, refuel, and fly again.

God help them all.

THE AIRFIELD BLAZED in the darkness, but not with the warm lights of home. It was closer to looking like the mouth of hell.

The Jenny had been running on fumes for the last couple of miles. Wind howled behind her, a storm coming in fast and hard. Her engine finally cut out right above the field, and Hitch brought her in for a deadstick landing.

His arms felt like they had hundred-pound weights dragging at them. His chest and his abdomen ached, and his feet tingled with the cold. For hours, he’d circled higher and higher—and seen nothing but stars. And half of those were probably from straining his eyes so hard.

The Jenny dropped her tail to the ground and skidded to a stop. For an instant, the buzz in his ears filled his head with a noisy silence. Then that faded out too, leaving only the noise.

People swarmed everywhere. Most of them headed straight for the plane.

He sat and watched.

In the front cockpit, Jael bowed her head into her hand.

While they’d been up in the air, at least there’d been a small kind of hope. Maybe—miraculously—they’d find Walter. Maybe—miraculously—Aurelia would have survived her fall. Maybe it’d all been a dream.

But as always, the dreams had to stay in the sky. On the ground, there were only cold, hard truths.

He exhaled the breath he’d been holding and pried his fingers off the stick.

“Hitch!”

The voice floated through his brain, and he turned woodenly.

Earl fronted the swarming crowd. He ran like a sprinter, his splinted arm banging against his chest with every stride. His ball cap blew off, and in the glare of the bonfires, his eyes looked wild.

“Get that thing back in the air, you idiot!” he shouted. “They’re coming for you!”

The words managed to penetrate Hitch’s brain, but that was about all they did. “What?”

Jael looked up, then stood up. “Hitch—”

Then he saw it too.

Campbell, a bandage around his forehead, stalked at the head of the mob. His face was constricted with rage—and also something else: guilt, and maybe fear. The man was on the hunt for a scapegoat, plain and simple.

Griff paced behind him, eyebrows drawn hard in concern.

The crowd caught up with Earl and engulfed him.

Campbell shoved Earl aside and jammed a finger at Hitch. “Arrest this man!”

“Arrest for what?” Jael demanded.

Hitch swung down stiffly out of the cockpit. “What is this?” If he was going to have to face down Campbell—tonight of all nights—then he was sure going to do it with both feet under him. A few sharp raindrops slashed at his face.

The crowd reached the plane, stopped for a second, then surged all the way around. It was mostly men, and every single one of them seemed to be white-faced and red-eyed. They hollered and shoved. Fists got shaken in his face. Someone grabbed at his sleeve, and he had to shrug away. It looked a whole lot like a lynching mob.

The fading adrenaline kicked in again. The black rage started rising out of his chest, into his throat.

He looked at Griff and fought to keep his voice level. “I’m under arrest for what?”

Griff hesitated, opened his mouth, then shook his head.

Whatever it was, he didn’t look like he entirely agreed with it. That was a good sign. Probably.

“Well?” Hitch said.

Rick pushed forward to stand behind Campbell. Lilla hurried in behind him, biting her lip.

“You think we don’t know what you’ve done?” Rick said. “You were in on this with Zlo from the very beginning! You helped him escape!”

Whatever Hitch had been expecting, that wasn’t it. “Are you kidding me?” The rage climbed a little higher. He spread his hands. “Why would I do that? That’s crazy!”

Jael clambered down from the cockpit. “That is most crazy!” Her face was set like stone, except for a half-dozen red spots flushing her cheeks. She was practically shaking. “Hitch has been fighting against Zlo from beginning!”

“Is that so?” Rick pushed closer, almost nose to nose with her. He only had maybe three inches on her in her bare feet. “Then why does he consort with one of Zlo’s own people!” He spun around to face the crowd and jabbed a finger at Jael. “She’s one of them!” His voice turned shrill. “She’s a spy! She and Hitch have been working together to help Zlo from the very beginning!”

She hurled herself at him. “ Dostatochno !”

Campbell caught her and clamped both her wrists in one of his hands.

She yelped and whirled on him, her short hair flying into her face. Another second, and she’d start kicking him.

“Jael,” Hitch snapped, low and quiet. “Hold off.” He turned back to Rick. “You really going to do this? Just because your pride couldn’t take the truth?”

Rick lifted his chin and glared. “Who’s the liar now, huh? People died because of you . Even your own sister-in-law. Did you know that?”