Page 68 of No Hope of Rescue

There’s another silence.

“Thinner air,” I explain. Fucking idiots.

There’s the sound of a dial tone. A cramping in my chest releases: relief. It’s small but I’ll take it.

“Yeah,” says a gruff voice on the other end.

“Are you in transit?”

“Affirmative.”

“See?” says Quiet Guy. “He’s left already.” He speaks to the voice on the phone. “ETA?”

“Twenty-three minutes. Hangar 16.”

“Copy. Excellent.”

There’s a click, and the call is over. The guy must have left about the time I did. That means there’s no one at the house. Everyone is safe. Riley. Mom. The boys. Ross.

I clap the headphones on, plug them in, and as I slide a hand into my jacket pocket, Quiet Guy behind me yanks the headphones off. “What are you doing?”

“Reaching for gloves,” I say slowly. What I actually do is turn on the phone, hit my four-digit code, and send the preloaded text to Riley by pressing on the lower right-hand corner.

CALL TRENT

The next thing I do is try to text without looking. It’s the only time in my life I’ve wished I was fourteen. It’s a skill I’m not sure I have.

LVLD 16 LVLD 16

Fuck. I think I hit a 7 instead. I try to picture the numbers on my phone and try the number again. I can sense the guy behind me is about to lose patience. My leather gloves come out, and one drops to the floor. Reaching down, I try to steal a glance at my phone to see what I actually sent but fail.

Shit.

The click from behind is soft, as soft as his voice. “Time to go.”

I turn the key, pull the choke, and wait for the rotors to hit speed. The five panels lighting up seem to subdue the assholes behind me. This is like flying a computer.

I take it fast, mostly to scare the shit out of them. Within seconds, we lift, jerk to the left, then I steady her out and we lift again. The gun presses with a grating air of finality against the back of my head.

I don’t care. He’s not going to shoot. They don’t want to die.

I fly us straight up through the pinhole. A backdraft pushes the Bell down, her nose tips up, and I can almost feel them gripping their seats.

I’m too mad to care, and I’ve got Riley with me on the dash. I’m not going back to that hellish desert. Not right now.

We rise and head northeast. Within fifteen minutes, I smell oil coming from above. We’re maxing out the Bell. I’m not giving these guys a smooth ride. I want to knock their teeth out of their skulls.

Let’s go, motherfuckers

Chapter Twenty

Riley Delgado

I don’t know why I decide to check my phone. Maybe despite the vibrations from the helicopter, I felt it buzz against my stomach, but I pull it out and see a message from Brock.

Biting down on a glove, I rip it off and tap. Ross leans over to see the screen.

LPPLLS1$ LBLF16