Robert was having the exact opposite reaction. Drinking the coffee was keeping his nerves settled. He was about to go for a refill when the outer door opened and Pax, Captain Ash, and Chloe came in.
“My group up and ready,” Ash said. “Our plane just landed.”
Robert felt Estella slip her hand into his and squeeze tight. They, along with Renee, were three of the eight who would be accompanying Ash and Chloe east. The rest would take the later planes and head to Los Angeles with Pax.
“If anyone needs to hit the toilet, now is the time,” Chloe said.
It was as if all the coffee he’d been drinking had suddenly made it through his system at once. Clenching, he whispered to Estella, “I’ll be right back.”
Several others made the trip to the bathroom with him, and by the time he returned, the jet had pulled up next to the building.
“Come on,” Estella said, taking his hand again.
They picked up the duffel bags they’d been assigned and headed outside. Each bag contained winter gear, two handguns, ammunition, and, in Robert’s case, four stun grenades. Ash and Chloe were waiting outside the plane’s door.
“You’re in 2A and B,” Chloe said to Robert and Estella.
After all the volunteers were inside, Ash and Chloe climbed in and closed the door.
Standing at the front, leaning a bit forward so that his head didn’t hit the roof, Ash said, “If any of you would rather stay, this is your last chance to back out.”
Robert turned in his seat to see if anyone would take the captain up on his offer, and was pleased to see no one did.
“All right, then,” Ash said. “You should try to get some rest. It might be a while before you get another chance. If you need a sleeping pill, talk to Chloe.” He swiveled around and said to the pilots, “Let’s go.”
“You ask me, looks like they’re planning some kind of trip,” Gabriel said, his eyes tight to his binoculars.
He, Nyla, and Martina had carefully worked their way around to a tree-covered hill east of Dodger Stadium. Parked in the lot closest to the entrance Project Eden used the most were three trucks and two Humvees. Two of the trucks were troop carriers, while the third was a red delivery truck with a logo on the side for La Brea Bakery. It was into this last vehicle that supplies were being loaded.
“Yeah,” Nyla said. “But where?”
“Maybe they’re closing up shop,” he suggested.
“Why would they do that?” Martina said, concerned.
“It’s happened at a few other stations already. Probably because they’re not getting the intakes they expected.”
“But if they leave, what happens to my friends?”
It took all of Gabriel’s effort not to cringe. There was still no proof her friends were in the special area. “The plan is to get everyone out before that happens.”
“Maybe…maybe we should do something now.”
Nyla set her glasses down and looked over at Martina. “The only things that would be accomplished by going in now would be to get us killed and tip them off that something was up. They’d likely kill all the prisoners, too.”
“But if we do nothing, and they kill them before the others get—”
“What?” Nyla asked. “Should we just die with them?”
“Yes! It’s better than sitting here and watching!”
Gabriel put a hand on Martina’s back. She flinched but he didn’t move it away. “It’s not, and you know it. Look, we realize there might be people you care about in there. We want nothing more than to get them out, but until we’re ready, anything we do would be suicide. And that’s not going to help anyone.”
Before Martina had a chance to argue again, the sat phone buzzed. Nyla answered it.
“Yes…uh-huh…okay…okay…great, thanks.” When she hung up, she looked over at the other two. “Time to go. The planes are on the way.”
Wicks was really flying now. The only place he’d had to be careful about since leaving his grandfather’s grave was Scranton, where there was supposedly a satellite survival station tasked with sending survivors to the three much larger ones in the New York City area.
Other than that, he’d been able to drive at a pretty constant eighty miles per hour and had already blown past Binghamton, New York. If he kept up this pace, he’d get there before midnight.
The sooner the better, he thought.
“That was Berlin,” Crystal said as soon as she disconnected the call. “They’re ready.”
“How many is that now?” Rachel asked.
She had been in the comm room since Pax and Ash left with their teams for the Ely Airport. The emptiness she’d been feeling since the death of her brother was still there, but she was no longer ceding control to it. With Pax and Ash and Chloe all away, someone needed to run things here. There was no time for a spiral into despair.
“Seventeen,” Crystal said.
“Eighteen,” Leon shouted. “Just confirmed with Johannesburg. Said it won’t be that much, but I told them whatever they can do will help.”
Eighteen. That was good, Rachel thought, but would it be enough?
She gave Leon a nod and said, “We need more.”
30
The Van Nuys Airport was located in the San Fernando Valley portion of Los Angeles. While there were landing strips closer to Dodger Stadium, those would increase the likelihood of the jet being seen as it descended. Van Nuys was hidden by the hills and just far enough away that the plane would hopefully touch down unnoticed.
Still, Pax couldn’t help consider the possibility of a rocket knocking them out of the air as they headed toward the runway. When they were finally on the ground, he relaxed enough to unbuckle his seatbelt and push himself up.
“All right,” he said, looking at everyone as the plane taxied across the tarmac. “We’re going to be met by some of my people here. It is very important that you all follow any directions we give you from this point forward. Not doing so could result in serious injury or…or worse.” He caught the eye of a man two rows back. “Duncan, you’re going to be squad leader of the people on this plane.” Duncan was one of the volunteers who had served in the military, a four-year stint with the British army.
“Yes, sir,” Duncan said.
“Anyone have any questions?”
A hand belonging to a dusty blonde woman near the back went up.
“Yes?” Pax said, pointing.
“Well, um, I’ve never even hit anyone before. How am I supposed to shoot at someone?”
A few others mumbled the same concern.
“It’s not an easy thing to do, but if you’re looking for motivation, then let me remind you that the people holding the survivors are the same people responsible for killing nearly every person you know. Your acquaintances, your friends, your family—these are the people who took their lives.”
The whole plane stared back at him, unmoving.
He gave it a few seconds before he said, “Any other questions?”
There were none.
The moment the plane pulled to a stop, Pax opened the door, allowing the outside air in. It had a long way to go to match the balmy, tropical heat he’d experienced on Isabella Island, but the temperature was at least fifty degrees warmer than Ely had been when they left.
He lowered the steps and climbed out to find six people standing next to several vans a few dozen yards away.