For the first time, he wondered how Rita was doing in her front row seat to it all.He’d been too busy trying to save their lives to wonder if he’d actually managed to save hers.
The plane rolled to a stop in front of the hangar and he released the top, pushing it back.He felt stiff and sore as he leaned over to undo Rita’s straps.
She tried to help him but her hands were shaking too much.Her face was white, her eyes huge, her lips compressed into a straight line.The lips parted, then closed again.
At least she wasn’t dead.And she hadn’t puked all over.He might be impressed.
He helped out onto the wing.He had to help her stand, too.He wasn’t surprised by that.He was surprised he could stand and help her.It felt like his insides had been hollowed out and left somewhere back there.
Rita, still supported by his arm, looked around her.“Where…”
She didn’t finish, but Con figured he got the gist.“I don’t know.We’re sucking fumes.I had to land and this was the only safe place.”
Was it safe?The silence wasn’t that of a deserted landing strip.He felt watched.If this was the silo, Jack and Mel’s silo, then they had cameras on them.
He rubbed his face with one hand.“I kind of lost track of our position when…” It was his turn to let the words trail off.“Are you okay?”
“Um,” she looked up at him, her eyes still wide.“I will be.Probably.”
“No damage?”He pressed.
She looked down at herself, without recognition.“No blood.Some bruises.Those moves.”She shuddered and then looked up to scan the sky.“Where are they?”
Con looked in the direction they’d come, at the clear calm sky, and then back at the sun that was so much lower than it should be.
“I don’t know.”He realized he needed to say more.“I think we lost them in the…storm.”
“That was insane.”
He saw her gaze turn that way, too, a frown creasing the place between her brows.
“Insane,” she repeated.
Con couldn’t argue with that assessment.“Let me help you down,” he said, his gaze glancing off the closed hangar doors.If he was back, surely they’d recognize him?And they’d be super pissed at him.
He winced a little as if his mom had slapped him upside the head.
He knew where the cameras were, but he wasn’t in the right place to see if they were there.
What if he weren’t in the right place?How bad would it be?
And if he was in the right spot?How bad would that be?
He’d brought an unsanctioned and dangerous guest to the silo, even if he hadn’t meant to.
Time is complicated.
As he helped Rita down, he managed a look at his recall device.It wasn’t activated.He hadn’t done whatever had happened.
“You, the way you flew,” Rita said and stopped.
“I’m a stunt pilot,” he said.
“That must have been helpful in the war.”
For a minute Con didn’t know what she meant.Oh right.She still thought they were in 1947.
There was a small, all too familiar building to one side of the hangar and he steered Rita that way.If nothing else, they could get out of the sun.Maybe it was worry, but the heat felt like it had expanded, stealing the breath from his lungs and so thick he felt like he pushed through it.
