Robbie Dorman - Regrowth

“No,” said Maya. “But this one isn’t in his hands. It’s in ours. He’ll be ready to go by the time you get here. Will they have room for his wheelchair?”

“I don’t know,” said Jon. “We can improvise if we have to. Shaw can afford a new wheelchair.”

“I guess that’s true,” said Maya.

His phone buzzed with a text message. He looked at it.

Car outside for you, hired by Mr. Shaw.

“They’re here,” said Jon. “I’ve got to go. We’ll be there soon.”

“See you soon,” said Maya, and the call ended.

Jon grabbed a suitcase and a box of notebooks and went downstairs, past all his neighbors. A big black SUV was parked at the curb, and as he approached, a man in a suit and dark sunglasses got out of the vehicle.

“Mr. Matthews?” asked the man.

“Yes,” said Jon.

“Let me help you with those,” he said.

“There’s more upstairs,” said Jon. “And my son is in a wheelchair. Will there be room?”

The man didn’t skip a beat. “I’ll find it.”

Jon went back and grabbed more boxes, stacking them high in his arms. He made one more trip, offloading it to the man.

“That’s everything,” said Jon.

“Good, let’s go,” said the man. “You should sit in the middle seats. They’re the safest.” He opened up the side door of the SUV and gestured for Jon to get in.

“Are we expecting trouble?” asked Jon. Another man wearing the same as the first sat in the driver’s seat. He nodded at Jon as he sat down.

“Better safe than sorry,” said the first, closing the door and getting back in.

“We’re picking up your wife and son as well?” asked the navigator.

“Ex-wife. And she’s staying. Only my son.”

“What’s the address?”

Jon gave it to them, and the navigator typed it into the GPS console. They were on their way.

Jon didn’t know what to say, but neither of the men spoke. The SUV was gigantic, the largest vehicle Jon had ever been in. He felt a headache coming on, his body reacting to not getting his morning coffee. He’d be hungry within an hour, and he realized he didn’t know how long this journey would take. How far was this place from New York?

“Do you know where I’m going?” asked Jon.

“We’re taking you to Mr. Shaw’s private jetway,” said the navigator. “But we don’t know where you’re heading after that.”

“I guess I’ll be flying, then,” said Jon. “Do you guys do this a lot?”

“We do whatever Mr. Shaw asks us to,” said the driver, the first thing he’d said.

“That sounds ominous,” said Jon. Neither of them answered, maybe because it wasn’t a question. But it made Jon realize how vulnerable he was.

Within ten minutes they were at Maya’s apartment, only a few neighborhoods over. She had wanted Tommy to stay in the same school district. And make it easy for Jon to see him. That hadn’t lasted.

He texted her. We’re downstairs.

Jon got out and waited by the car, alongside the navigator. Maya came out a couple minutes later, pushing Tommy in his wheelchair. Both of their faces were red from crying. Tommy’s eyes were still wet. Maya’s expression was both hard and soft, doing her best to maintain strength for her son.

Jon tried to read his son’s face, but he couldn’t. Jon crouched in front of Tommy and looked him in the eye. Tommy avoided eye contact, but finally gave in, a mixture of anger, sadness, and frustration all mired together.

“I know this was sudden,” said Jon. “It was sudden for me too. I don’t need you to like this, okay, but I just want you to know I’m trying my best. We’re trying our best, and I love you.” He looked at Tommy, and Tommy finally nodded in acceptance, trying to not cry anymore.

Jon hugged him, and Tommy squeezed back for what it was worth. Jon stood back up and looked to Maya. He went to her and hugged her. She squeezed him hard.

“Take care of him,” said Maya.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to reach you,” said Jon. “I don’t know anything. But I won’t let anything happen to him. Be careful out here.”

“I’ll do what I can,” said Maya. “Let me say goodbye.”

Jon backed up, and Maya hugged Tommy. She whispered to him, and Tommy nodded, saying something in return. He started crying again. They held an embrace, and then Maya let go. Tommy wiped away his tears.

“Let’s get you in the truck,” said Jon. Tommy reached out, a familiar movement, and Jon grabbed him, his missing lower legs making him weigh less. Jon held him and the navigator opened up the door, and Jon placed Tommy inside. Maya folded up the wheelchair, and the navigator put it in the back.

Maya stood there while they closed the door. She waved as they drove away.

“Where are we headed, Dad?” asked Tommy.

“To a private airport,” said Jon.

“Yeah, but where after that?”

“I don’t know,” said Jon.

They arrived at the exclusive jetway within an hour, a jet already sitting on the runway. A woman in a business suit waited near the plane. The two men from the car quickly took all the luggage alongside Jon’s research and loaded it onto the jet, before returning to the car and driving away.

“Jon?” asked the woman. “And Tommy?”

“Yes,” said Jon.

“Hello, I’m Nancy” she said, extending a hand. “Are you ready to go?”

“I mean, sure,” said Jon.

“Then follow me,” said Nancy, and walked toward the plane. Jon pushed Tommy’s wheelchair. “I apologize, but we do not have a ramp for the chair.”

“I’ll carry it up,” said Jon.

“Are you sure? I can—”

“I’ll do it,” said Jon.

The jet sat alone on the runway. The actual airport was quiet. Jon knew air travel had largely been shut down, but he guessed the normal rules don’t apply to billionaires. They boarded the plane, Jon carrying Tommy aboard, and then carrying his wheelchair.

The plane inside was spacious. Nancy helped them to their seats.

“Can I ask where we’re headed?” asked Jon.

“You can ask,” said Nancy.

“But you won’t answer,” said Jon.

“Correct,” said Nancy. “But I can tell you the flight will take about 5 hours.”

“And there’s no windows on this plane,” said Jon.

“Correct,” said Nancy, smiling. “And you will both be blindfolded once we arrive at the facility until you are safely inside.”

“I guess Mr. Shaw is serious about keeping the location secret,” said Jon.

“He’s gone to great lengths to protect it,” said Nancy.

“But you know where it is,” said Jon. “And so do the pilots.”

“It’s not about total information control,” said Nancy. “That’s impossible. It’s about reasonable levels of oversight. I would buckle up. We’re about to take off.”

Jon buckled his seatbelt. Tommy hadn’t said a word since he’d gotten on the jet. He was studying the interior.

They took off, the departure smooth, and the plane reached cruising altitude within twenty minutes.

Nancy brought them sandwiches and drinks, and then settled in her own seat, popping open a laptop.

“How are you doing?” asked Jon quietly.

Tommy looked at him.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I miss Mom.”

“I know,” said Jon. “But she wants to make sure you’re taken care of. That’s why you’re here.”

“I know that,” said Tommy. “It doesn’t make it any easier. We’re going to go back, right?”

“Yes, yes,” said Jon. “Mr. Shaw wants to change the world. He wants to fix things.”

Tommy looked away at that, and Jon couldn’t help but look at what remained of Tommy’s legs. Thoughts flashed through his mind of the night he lost them.