I take another deep breath and looks down at my knees. The pros of regular panic attacks as opposed to jumping, I don’t teleport anywhere. The cons, well, they just plain suck.
Jesse rises to his feet and offers me a hand. His eyes are distant; his gesture is simply something out of habit. I can tell that he is still thinking about the draft. How could anyone really let that go. If it really is a draft then that is huge. The government has been going behind the backs of millions of people. Snatching unwilling soldiers from the minds of those who love them. That didn’t sound like a very American thing to do. Whatever happened to the ‘land of the free’ idea? Was all nobility and honesty dead?
Jesse helps me up and I release his hand the brush away some of my tears that are starting to dry on my cheeks. The thing about these panic attacks is that they turn me into someone that I usually am not. I generally try to keep a positive outlook on life. But the second my thoughts start to travel in the opposite directions it’s like a runaway train. I don’t want to be like that. Who would ever want to be that emotionally unstable? We all walk back to the main room silently, wrapped up in our own thoughts. Although I’m sure I can guess what most everyone is thinking about.
I check the watch on my wrist and find that it is 5:30,
“We need to get our gear and get ready to leave. We have a couple hours of travel to do so we aren’t leaving late. He gives me a pointed look and I self-consciously brush away another tear. More weaknesses for everyone to add to the Neona list. That’s just fantastic. Evan hands me a magazine I pull the holster for my gun tighter around my torso and remove the gun,
“Wow, Neona has upgraded to getting a gun. Congrats.” Curtis remarks sarcastically.
I shoot him an annoyed look, “Careful. I do know how to use it.”
Evan raises his eyebrows at me before unzipping one of the bags Jesse got ready yesterday and places the contents on the table. Due to the fact that I do not have much training in weaponry Evan just gives me four new magazines and a knife that I slide into my boot on his suggestion. Curtis and Jesse work quickly through the other bags. Curtis only holsters one gun because he won’t actually leave the plane while we are getting Trent. But Jesse and Evan hide so many weapons on their person that it’s a wonder they are even able to stand with all that extra weight. Suddenly I feel extremely unprepared. Sure I can shoot a gun and control my jumping on occasion, but that doesn’t classify me as a world-class fighter.
In the end we have a few weapons left to give to Adalie when we meet her. If Sawyer is there he’ll have more than enough weapons. I wouldn’t doubt that for a moment. Evan goes into his office and shuts the door. Jesse, Curtis, and I look at each other uncomfortably and I adjust the magazines in my pockets,
“Neona.” Curtis says,
I look up at him questioningly, “One last thing. If one of us gets captured, we leave them behind. That’s a risk we run on these missions. So if you are captured don’t expect someone to come save you. That’s when you have to learn how to fend for yourself.”
I nod and swallow nervously. Evan emerges from his office and pulls another bag around his shoulder,
“What’s that?” Jesse asks suspiciously,
“I’m not letting these files out of my sight, call it what you will. They are far too important to be left alone. They are the only lead we have right now.”
Jesse shrugs, “Fair enough.”
Evan glances at his watch, “Let’s go, it’s almost six.” I follow Jesse, Curtis, and Evan back out towards the entrance to the warehouse. However instead of climbing up the ladder we go into a door beside it that I hadn’t noticed until now. The smell of sewage is like a slap in the face. I nearly gag as. Step into the dimly lit tunnel. Something drips in the distance and I swear that I can hear the scuttling of tiny feet from somewhere in the darkness. Weak rays of light shine in the grates of each manhole above us. However the light does little to light the space around us.
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.”