Forgotten

Chapter 33

Evan, Jesse, and Curtis walk forward confidently on the narrow pathway between the wall and a stagnant river of sewage while I lag uncertainly behind. How can they have such sure footing on the greasy rocks on the pathway? Curtis glances back at me and a look of amusement flickers through his eyes. I frown and walk forward more quickly to catch up Witt the rest of the group. A rat scampers out of the shadows and darts in front of me. I let out a small shriek and step backwards. My feet slip on the wet stones and there is a horrible moment where my arms pinwheel as I try to regain my balance. Curtis catches my arm and pulls me back onto the path,

“Thanks.” I mutter. He nods at me and releases my hand before turning from me and continuing down the path.

I keep my eyes out for wayward rats as we travel further and further away from the Underground. After about twenty minutes of walking through the sewers Evan stops in front of another door. There is a brief glint as Evan pulls out a key and unlocks the door. We enter another dimly lit room with a ladder at one end. I wonder just how much of the Chicago Sewage system has been taken over by the underground. We all climb up the ladder and enter what appears to be an aircraft hanger, and I frown as the others walk quickly to a sleek looking jet in the middle of the hanger,

“We’re flying?” I ask questioningly.

Evan glances back at me, “Of course we are flying. Sector 17 isn’t even in Illinois.”

“Where is it?” I ask as I walk up behind the others,

“It’s in the Badlands.” The door to the jet glides open and a ladder extends so we can enter,

“As in, The Badlands National Park?”

“Yes ma’am.” Evan motions to the ladder, “Ladies first.” I step in front of him and climb up into the finely furnished jet. As soon as Evan climbs up I ask,

“Why would they put their base in the middle of a national park?”

“Privacy. They almost have 250,000 acres of open space that no one can build on or live on. All the rangers are Sector 17 agents. People are allowed to go into the Badlands, so people aren’t suspicious about it like they are about Area 51. They established it as a national park in 1978, five years after they changed the Draft program. I’m going to make the assumption that they spent those five years planning, and once they found the perfect place to build their main place of operation they made it a national park to keep others from trying to build there. It’s pretty genius actually. Who would think that the government would hide a secret military base in the middle of a popular tourist destination?”

I smirk a little, “That’s like The Underground. We’re practically under Navy Pier.”

Evan grins at me, “Exactly.”

Curtis climbs up into the jet and enters the cockpit,

“You know how to fly this thing?” I call.

Curtis pokes his head out and gives me a thumbs up, “I was a pilot before. Used to fly private jets for different companies.”

“I thought you were a pitcher?”

He smiles, “I wore many different hats Neona.” He disappears again as Jesse climbs into the jet and presses a button next to the door. The ladder retracts and the door shuts smoothly. I glance around and sit down in one of the chairs. I sink into the plush leather and I can imagine myself curling up and taking a nap. However I don’t think that Evan would appreciate my lack of focus. He’s one of those guys who is always high strung and on alert.

I dig a ponytail holder out of my backpack and put my hair into a hasty braid as Evan and Jesse sit down in other chairs near mine. The jet’s engine rumbles to life beneath us and Curtis’s voice cuts through the speakers of the jet,

“Welcome aboard The Underground Airlines flight bound for Sector 17. We have an estimated flight time of just over an hour if the weather is in our favor. So buckle up and pray that we make it there in one piece.”

I sink further into my chair and busy myself organizing the contents of my bag. I’ve always been a nervous flier. Then again, I’ve always been a nervous everything. Perks of having an anxiety disorder,

“How are we going to fly out of Chicago without alerting the police.”

Evan buckles his seat belt and glances out the window, “A. we are quiet. B. We have a radar jammer, so we are basically invisible. The initial take off may raise some eyebrows, but there are private airports all over this area, so no one really bothers to look into it as long as we keep our flights limited.”

“How do you have enough money for all this?”

Evan grins at me, “Embezzlement, credit card fraud. It’s so easy when no one remembers who you are.”