Hero

Chapter 28 - "Mrs. Baker, we have a problem."

The pilot knew I was lying now, and he frowned deeply. Before he could even call for backup on his radio, I reached out and grabbed the gun, pointing it straight at him as I held Piper tight against my chest. He put his hands up, eyes wide, knowing the tables had turned.

“You’re going to fly us out of here,” I announced. “And you’re also going to get rid of that radio. Do it!” I shouted when he didn’t move. He jerked and grabbed at his radio, dropping it to the floor as quickly as he could manage. When he looked back to me I nodded to the roof that led to the helicopter on the roof. “Let’s get going; now.”

I followed him, pointing the gun at his back, to the roof. He was good as we stepped outside, and I watched him as he turned on the black beast. I strapped Piper tightly in one of the seats and quickly sat down in the one next to her, pointing the gun at the man’s head. The gun never once moved as he turned on the helicopter and flew us back to Colorado.

I would have loved to have been one of the neighbors as they watched a helicopter land in the middle of their street. The pilot did just as I said as he turned the thing off; he walked steadily, with his hands in the air, to the front door of Rhylee’s parent’s house. I forced him to ring the doorbell and nearly laughed when they opened the door. Both of their jaws dropped as they took in the scene; a pilot with bulging eyes and a sweaty brow, I was simply drenched in sweat while pointing a gun to the man’s head while holding their daughter, and a helicopter on their street.

“Uh, Justin..?” Mrs. Baker croaked.

“Mrs. Baker, we have a problem.”

I didn’t tell them what had happened until I phoned the police, who got a hold of SWAT, who then got a small troop of U.S. soldiers to attack the prison. The pilot gave them the exact coordinations and they were off. I then proceeded to tell them what was happening and handed them their daughter. It probably wasn’t a very descriptive explanation, but it was something. Something along the lines of ‘your daughter is a prisoner again and in a lot of trouble...here’s your daughter, I called the army, bye!’ I could see why they looked so confused as I left.

Now I was back in the helicopter, pointing the gun at the pilot yet again. We were low on fuel, I knew, but he promised we would be able to make it on what we had. I had to trust him, since I had no other options, and was utterly pleased when we flew over the desert; tanks and jeeps were racing across the sand, along with a couple other helicopters. Grateful that they had listened, I instructed the pilot to land on the sand, allowing the soldiers and SWAT teams to gain better access to the building. He nodded and did as he was told; landing gently on the sand in front of the building, and we watched as the jeeps and tanks poured out soldiers and officers that sprinted through the front doors and attacked the building. Satisfied, I patted the pilot on the shoulder.

“Thanks, buddy, you’ve been a great help.” I smirked before jumping out of the helicopter and bounded for the entrance.

I passed by doctors being forced to the ground by soldiers with guns, I watched them confiscate drugs and money, I watched officers call for more troops to be dispatched; this place was larger than they thought, and I witnessed them rescue prisoners from the damned place; shaking and changed as they may, I was thankful they finally found help. As I ran down the halls, though, I didn’t see Rhylee. Knowing that, if they caught her, they probably put her in a cell, I made my way for the cells. When I reached them, I saw they were all empty; no Rhylee. My hands began gripping at my hair; where could she be? I looked everywhere, but I didn’t see her in that hall, in the next hall, in the hall after that, or any of the doors that lined these walls. Desperate, I ran for the nearest officer. He was talking on a radio, saying something about an airlift for someone who needed to go to the hospital.

“Where is she?” I demanded.

“Where is who, sir?”

“Rhylee! A girl with black hair and gold eyes - please, she has to be around here somewhere!” I panicked.

He shrugged, dumbstruck by my reaction. “Well, we just airlifted someone with a gunshot wound.”

“What did they look like?” I pressed.

He frowned, trying to recollect his memory, until he reached up his radio again and asked for details on the gunshot girl. I hated them calling her that. When he got his answer, he turned back to me and replied, “About five foot, ten inches, with black hair-”

“That’s her!” I shouted, sprinting away. I didn’t know where this airlift was, or even if it was still here, but I knew I had to find her. My only thoughts were where is she and is she okay? I was scared beyond belief and wondered who shot her, where they shot her, and if she would be okay. My legs had never moved so fast as I flew down the hall, running back outside. A group of soldiers were getting back in their jeep, about to leave, as I reached outside. I sprinted to the automobile, gripping the side of the car.

“I need to go with you! I need to go with her!” I shouted to them. They didn’t know what or who I was talking about, but they let me in. That was the longest car ride in my life.