The car slowed to a stop by the side of the road. Gar hadn't said a word while I told him everything—about Mr. K, Higgins's lies, the evil doctor... my pregnancy.
As hard as it had been to talk to Luke, Lucy and Drake about the baby, telling Gar had been one hundred times harder. He could report me, turn me in, betray me. But then, would I really be any worse off?
No.
So I waited for him to speak.
"Gar?"
He turned to face me, his hazel eyes and hard face revealing nothing. "What do you want to do?"
What did that mean? "Do you believe me? Did you already know?"
I knew the answer, but I wanted him to tell me he had nothing to do with this mess.
"I've known for a few months that something wasn't right. I've been keeping an eye on you ever since we returned from your last assignment. When I found out about the art studio fire, I looked into it, and some things didn't make sense, but it doesn't pay to get too curious about the people we work for. I have a family to consider, but I also knew I had to keep you safe. I thought getting you off campus and to New York would be enough."
"So now you know. I'm not going to New York." Saying it out loud made it feel much too real. I wanted to swallow the words back into my throat and pretend it wasn't true, that none of this was really happening, but feigned ignorance would not save me.
My mind flashed to an old Calvin and Hobbes cartoon I'd seen years ago. They were sliding down a mountain on a sled as Calvin spouted that the value of ignorance is bliss. Once we know something, he argued, we are forced to consider personal change in order to fix the problems that we see. If we persist in ignorance, we can stay cocooned in our beliefs—we can remain happy. At the end, when they fly off a cliff and crash, Hobbes remarks that he can't handle this much bliss.
In my heart I knew that to stay blind would not lead to any happy endings, and my fall off the proverbial cliff would not result in a witty barb, but rather an end to everything that mattered to me. No matter how unpleasant the truth, I had to face it and change my life to fix the problems.
Gar studied me as if searching for words he rarely used. I could imagine him opening up the container in his mind that held language, and dusting off all those unnecessary sentences and paragraphs.
Before he could respond, his walkie-talkie blared to life. "Do you need assistance? Our monitors indicate you've stopped."
I sucked in a breath. "Who's that?"
Gar looked around as if we were being watched. "Like you, the car has a tracker, and so do I. They monitor when we leave, to make sure we go straight to the airfield without incident."
Nausea bubbled up in my stomach, and I willed myself to keep my party food down. Between the utter exhaustion of leaving in the middle of the night, the emotional drain of keeping up a façade at the party, and saying goodbye to my friends—and now this—I was surprised I could sit up on my own. I didn't realize they embedded trackers in the guards as well. Did the teachers and all the staff have them?
That could help explain why Mr. K hated it there. He wasn't the type who would like being tracked like a stray dog.
So even just pulling over for thirty seconds triggered a response. We had to respond with something that wouldn't raise their radar. "Tell them I'm sick, that you pulled over so I could throw up."
He nodded and spoke into the walkie-talkie. "The girl got sick. I pulled over so she could puke. Will be at airfield about ten minutes behind schedule."
"You're taking me there? Even knowing what they'll do?"
The car jerked into drive and Gar pulled back onto the street. "If we try to escape now, they'll find us before we reach the highway."
With trackers in our bodies and on the car, we didn't have any chance of making a run for it. There had to be another way. "What about removing our trackers? If they can't track us we could escape, right?"
The movie scene played in my mind. We cut ourselves open and remove the trackers. Gar finds the tracker on the car and disables it, then tosses his cell phone and we drive off like James Bond, never to be heard from again. Easy.
Gar eyed me in the rear view mirror and frowned as though he could read my mind. "I could remove our trackers, but with your pregnancy and without proper medical supplies, I don't want to risk that. They're buried pretty deep, and I could do more harm than good. Besides, there aren't many roads we can hide on. They'd find us."
I grunted in frustration, my James Bond fantasy destroyed by the onslaught of reality. "So what, we give up and you just hand me over as a human breeder?"
His face hardened. "No. We don't give up. We think of a better plan. We'll have a greater chance of escaping once we're in the air. The trackers don't work in flight. I can hijack the plane, which has a stock of medical supplies. I can then remove the trackers and get you somewhere safe. But we need more than just an escape plan. Do you have anyplace to go?"
"Yeah, kind of. But we need to find Drake first. They're keeping him prisoner at another facility—the one they're taking me to. He has friends on the outside who can help us."
Gar shook his head. "Nope. My job is to keep you safe. We can't risk going after your boyfriend right now, not with a half-assed plan and no back up. So, where do you want to go?"
Drake had been listening and chimed in. 'Go to Father Patrick's church. Tell him what's happened. He'll find a way to help.'
"I don't want to leave you there. What if they hurt you when they find out I've escaped?"
'I'll be fine. I heal fast. Just get to the church. Please!'
This plan had too many holes in it, but it was all we had and we were running out of time. "Fine. Can you get me to Venice, California?"
Gar nodded.
I stared out into the dark. "What about you? Where will you go when this is over? Drake's friend can probably help you too."
He turned right and slowed down as much as possible without stopping. "We'll figure that out when and if this works. You have to know, Sam, that the odds are stacked against us. Now, I need to make a call before we get there."
He dialed his cell phone. "Honey, it's me. Yeah, remember what we talked about...? Now would be a good time to visit some family. Keep our girl safe.... I love you too. Bye."
Oh God, how could I let him risk his life and safety for me? He'd told me about his family, but now they seemed more real. "This is a bad idea. You have people depending on you. You need to do your job and forget about me."
'Sam, no!'
"He has a family, Drake. I can't let him do this!"
"My wife knew something like this might happen. She'd want me to help you if she knew everything. I can't walk away and leave you in their hands without at least trying to save you."
"Why?"
"Because... our daughter... she's special. Special like you and your friends. I'd hoped your school could help her, but now I need to make sure she's safe from them."
His mind pulled me in and memories of his daughter filled my vision.
***
"Daddy, Daddy, come quick!" A little girl with flaming red hair and emerald green eyes sat on the grass next to the lake.
Gar ran out, fear clutching his heart at the distress in his daughter's voice.
Dirty tears streaked her freckled face. In her hands a kitten shuddered and convulsed—dying.
"Daddy, she's broken. Fix her, Daddy, fix her."
Gar knelt down next to the little girl who owned his heart, and cupped her cherub face with his large hands. "I'm sorry, Baby, I don't know how to fix the kitten."
"I found her here, next to the lake. I think she was attacked by a bigger animal."
The snow-white ball of fur had streaks of blood on its belly, likely internal injuries. Gar knew she didn't have long.
"Serena, I'm sorry. You'll have to let her go."
He tried to pry the girl's hands off the kitten, but she used all of her 6-year-old fury to hold on without crushing the dying animal.
"Do you see that, Daddy? The world got sparkly and my hands feel hot."
Gar didn't see the sparkly world, but when he looked down at his daughter's hands, they glowed a bright white.
Shocked speechless, he watched as the light surrounded the kitten.
He didn't notice how pale Serena had become until the kitten sat up and licked her face.
"Daddy, I'm tired now."
He picked up his daughter and carried her home, with the kitten trailing behind.
***
Gar's voice jolted me out of the memory. "That cat hasn't left her side since. This was four years ago."
My voice came out in a whisper. "She's a healer. A powerful one."
"Yes. We've done our best to keep her gifts secret. After healing the cat, she couldn't get out of bed for a week. We'd hoped—"
"—that Rent-A-Kid would keep her safe."
If they ever found out about her powers, the rich and powerful would pay anything to live longer, to be healed from disease, and she'd be drained until nothing remained but a shell of that girl.
It made sense now, why Gar had become my guardian angel.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. We still have a lot of work ahead of us."
***
The seconds dripped into my veins like acid. Dread filled me each time I thought about our plan.
We were about to hijack a plane? That was insane. I mean, sure, Gar would be the one doing all the heavy hijacking, but I would be part of it.
He ignored my attempts at small talk, so I finally shut my mouth and prayed to whoever might be listening that we'd make it out alive.
When we neared the airstrip, the runway lights and buildings turned night into day and blinded me. It shone bright with one tall radar tower, an office for the air traffic controllers who doubled as guards—or maybe guards who doubled as air traffic controllers—and a hanger that fit two state-of-the-art jets.
We drove through a chain link fence topped with razor wire, and pulled up to the jet that had been prepped for my journey.
I did my best to put on a game face. If I just pretended as though this were another assignment, I might get through it.
The pilot stood by the plane with a clipboard in hand, presumably doing a last-minute check of everything, and the stewardess smoked a cigarette outside the hanger.
Gar pushed thoughts into my mind. 'There are two guards stationed at the entrance of the jet, two in the office, the pilot and the stewardess. I'm the only guard that will be on the plane once it takes off, so I can disable the stewardess and pilot and take over the plane.'
As he opened my door and grabbed my luggage, I jerked my head an imperceptible amount to let him know I'd heard him.
A chill swept through me and I shivered, pulling my jacket more tightly around me. My flimsy party dress did nothing to protect me from the cold night air.
Gar greeted the pilot and handed off my luggage to the guards manning the entrance. The short, stout bald one took my luggage up the stairs and into the plane, then returned and stood next to his taller, lankier partner. They both wore all black and had guns holstered at their sides.
Once the luggage had been handled, Gar motioned for me to enter first, so I did.
So far so good.
Then Gar tried to follow me in, but the stout guard stepped in front of him. "Change of orders, we will accompany the girl this time. You're needed back at the school."
I froze at the top of the stairs, just before the door. Gar looked up at me, but I couldn't read his face, so I slipped into his mind.
'Must do something.... Need new plan.'
If he couldn't travel with me, we had no plan. But Gar didn't back down. "I've been given my orders. I'm to accompany her to her destination. Step aside."
Neither guard budged. "We've got it from here. Return to school and await further orders. You've been reassigned."
Gar smiled, perhaps the first smile I'd seen on him. It sat awkwardly on his face, like an ill-fitting mask. "I'm sure we can figure this out, gentlemen. Let me just check in and clear everything with the boss."
The guards both relaxed their postures and nodded. A quick read of their minds proved Gar's response fit with protocol. They had no reason to believe he would go against orders.
Gar's body tensed as he spoke in hushed tones on the phone. He nodded his head a few times, and I could tell he tried to stay casual in his stance, but his balled fists betrayed his anger.
The conversation ended, and every nerve ending in my body flared to life. Sweat trickled down my neck onto the collar of my jacket, and the moment stretched into eternity as I waited to see what, if anything, Gar would do next.
As much as I wanted to peek into his mind, I needed to stay focused and alert. Should I try to run, stay on the plane, scream, cry, pretend to pass out? A dozen thoughts flittered through my mind, a dozen ways to distract, to get attention off of Gar—but that might make his job harder.
With hyper-awareness, I focused on Gar's every muscle twitch and movement.
His left fist unclenched, and something slipped into his hand. A syringe. He was going to attack.
Oh God! My heart thudded in my chest so hard I was sure the guards could hear it.
Gar chuckled and used his right hand to pocket his phone. "Guess you boys were right. Sorry about the trouble. Do you mind if I use the jet bathroom before I go? It's so much nicer than the one in the office."
The tall guard shook his head. "Sorry, man. Orders are orders. No one else is allowed on the plane."
Gar shrugged. "I understand. Oh hey, you've got something on your collar there."
Before either guard knew what was happening, he leaned into the tall guard on the left and plunged the needle into his neck. In the same breath he pulled the other guard's gun from his holster.
The tall guard staggered to the side with his hands clutching the syringe. "What'd you... do... ack...." He tried to lunge at Gar, but fell to the side on the tarmac and passed out.
Gar's hand didn't shake at all as he pointed the gun at the other guard. "Your partner will be fine, eventually, but you need to step aside and let me on the plane."
Lollie, the stewardess, screamed and ran behind the hanger to hide. The pilot, hidden on the other side of the plane, radioed for help, and I searched for other minds.
"Gar, the other guards are coming and they're armed. Hurry."
The guard being held at gunpoint lunged at Gar just as I spoke, but he'd lost the element of surprise. Gar stepped aside, tripped him, and then pistol-whipped his head. The man fell into a lump on the tarmac near his partner.
Gar pushed me into the plane and closed the door behind us. "Sam, we need to leave now. It might be a rocky ride."
My voice cracked when I tried to talk. "What's going to happen?"
"I'm getting you to California. Seatbelt up!"
He moved to the pilot's seat and flicked switches and buttons. The plane rolled onto the runway.
It took me a few seconds—which felt like minutes—to strap myself into a seat. My stomach flip-flopped and my pulse raced.
I linked to the minds of those outside the plane and cringed at the chaotic thoughts flying around. I traced each thought to its core until their plans became clear. Fear paralyzed me. "Gar, the guards from the office, they're coming after us."
"Drake, you there? I'm scared."
'I'm here. Stay calm. Damn, I wish I could do something. I hate feeling so helpless.'
I wanted to stay lost in his voice forever, but the plane's movement pulled me back to reality.
Sirens blared outside. Gar's radio crackled to life, but he turned it off before anyone could talk.
Neither of us said anything. I didn't want to distract Gar from the task of flying the plane. Once in flight, we'd be safe. Presumably, he knew where and how to land in California so no one would be there waiting to capture us. I could get help. We'd be safe.
The plane accelerated and so did my heart's beat. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
I resisted the urge to throw up, but I did grab the barf bag just in case.
I needed to know what was happening, so I slipped into Gar's mind.
'Oh shit, they have RPGs.... We're screwed... have to hurry... can't let them get her....'
If Gar was scared, I was terrified. "What's an RPG?"
"Rocket-propelled grenade. Looks like a little rocket, like a long tube, and is shot from over the shoulder. You've seen them in movies."
Right, yes, I had. Those movies where everything gets blown to hell.
"Can they take down a plane?"
"Yes."
How can he sound so calm? Maybe he had a plan, a way out that I couldn't see.
A large boom broke through the silence of our thoughts and our plane spun and jerked.
I cried out as the seatbelt dug into my stomach. "Gar, what happened?"
"We've been hit, but I think I can still fly it. Hold on."
We were going to fly a plane that had been hit? What? Didn't planes need all their parts to fly properly?
He straightened the plane and tried to get it back on course.
My breathing hitched and suddenly oxygen was in short supply, or maybe that was just me and my fear.
Another explosion tore through the air. Through the window I saw the right wing tear off. Pretty sure we needed both wings to fly.
Gar tried to taxi the plane away from the people chasing us, but it couldn't outrun a rocket. A final explosion ripped through the engine, tearing open the fuselage and tipping my world on its side.
Darkness overtook me and I faded into a world where Drake and I ran through flowers, only the flowers turned on us and spat poison at us. Something hit me and my vision spun, dizzy....
"Sam! Sam!"
My eyes cracked open. Gar held my head as he tried to unbuckle me from the seat.
"Sam, are you okay?"
Everything hurt, but I was alive. So, there was that. "What happened?"
He pulled me from my chair and propped me up against another seat that had turned on its side. "They hit us with an RPG and the plane tipped. We can't fly it. I'm sorry."
Something crashed into the plane door. Gar stood in front of me, gun ready.
He couldn't face off against them; he'd die. "Gar, you have to go. Please. Get out while you can."
"It's too late, Sam. I'll try to keep them away as long as I can. Can you walk? Crawl? Anything? Try to get away if you can."
Where would I go? How would I get out? I didn't voice my hopelessness, because really, what was the point? What more could he do?
The two guards from the office dropped through the hatch they'd opened—definitely guards who doubled as air traffic control, judging by the soldier-like way they carried themselves. The guards trained their guns on Gar.
The younger guard on the right spoke first. "Give us the girl, now!"
Gar didn't budge or speak.
I slipped into their minds, then whispered so only Gar could hear. "The one on the left plans to dive and shoot while the one on the right tackles you."
Gar shot the shoulder of the guard on the right and pushed me behind a seat. I'd never been in a shoot-out, especially not one in a steel tube with sharp, metal plane debris everywhere. This couldn't be healthy for the baby.
The ringing in my ears made the gunshots sound like they came from deep space, or one hundred leagues under the sea.
In that frenetic moment, I couldn't read anyone, couldn't help and couldn't escape.
All I could do was watch as a bullet pierced through the leather seat and into Gar's chest.
Tears choked my throat. I threw myself on him. "Gar. No. Please. Don't die. Gar."
The guards tried to pull me off of him but I held on. His eyes flickered open once more.... "Be safe, Sam. I'm sorry." ...and death stole him forever.
Memories flooded my mind like a tidal wave of displaced water trying to find purchase on the slippery shore of impermanence.
The first time he kissed his wife.
The first time he held his baby.
Friday night family nights with pizza and movies.
Normal scenes that didn't match up with the man I knew only as a guard.
But he wasn't just a guard; he was a husband, a father, a son. He was a man with a whole life slipping away.
Somewhere in the world, a wife lost her husband and a little girl lost her daddy, all because of me.
A sharp prick cut through my neck, and hot fire coursed through my veins, then all went black.
