I take a deep breath, thinking of Hannah in that hotel room, people being assaulted in the street right outside.
“What airport are we going to?” I ask.
Roger answers. “We’re under strict instructions not to disclose that until we arrive.”
I furrow my brow, looking at Terry. “Why wouldn’t you be able to tell me that?”
Terry shrugs, giving me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, kid. Boss’s orders.”
I take out my phone and text my dad.
Pax: Why won’t these guys tell me where we’re going?
Maybe we aren’t going to an airport at all. The plane could be taking off from an empty field or something.
Boston’s streets are eerily quiet and empty. There are cars and pedestrians, but nowhere near the usual amount. According to the news, most people are sheltering in place because they’re so worried about getting the virus.
Hannah must be concerned for her students. She adores every one of them. I hear endless stories about the funny things they say and do. Even though we want kids, I’m glad we don’thave any yet. I can’t even imagine having a young kid to protect during a time like this.
The suburbs start to thin out as we pass Worcester. Terry is making small talk about sports to pass the time, but a knot of fear is still aching in my stomach.
On our right side, the Connecticut River is unbothered by the chaos. My father still hasn’t responded, and I’m starting to wonder just how far away we’re going.
What if, by the time we finally get there, we can’t take off?
The landscape changes, Terry speculating about the next baseball season. It’s hilly, forests and old farms providing the only scenery.
“I’m not trying to be a dick,” I say to Terry after nearly two hours. “But I need some answers.”
“We’re close,” Roger says.
I text my father again, agitated. We’re approaching Brattleboro, which means we’re in Vermont. Terry’s following a satellite map on the vehicle’s navigation system, and he turns onto a dirt road.
“I’m a Thatcher, too,” I say, looking at Roger over my shoulder. “I?—”
“Yeah, it’s us,” he says into his cell phone. “Okay, thanks.”
The road ends in front of a massive dark rock formation, and I squint when I see movement in it.
Huge double doors that blend perfectly with the rock are opening, light visible through the crack as the doors slowly retreat into the rock.
I breathe easier because this must be a military base. My dad has government and military connections, so it makes sense. I’m actually relieved it won’t just be me, a pilot, and a small private plane.
“Why the secrecy?” I grumble. “You could’ve just said it’s a military base.”
The space is much bigger than it looked from the outside. Terry drives through the doors and the paved road begins a gradual descent. Bright spotlights placed high in the rock above illuminate our path.
I feel the vibration of the doors rumbling closed behind us. We drive deeper underground and enter a gaping open space the size of a military airplane hangar. It’s brightly lit, endless rows of shelves stocked with wood crates. There are a handful of brand-new-looking army-green vehicles, including a tank, lined up along one wall.
A few people are working on things in the space, and I breathe a deep sigh of relief when I see my mom and dad standing together, watching us approach. Dad has his arm around Mom’s waist.
Terry puts the SUV in park and I rush out. My mother smiles at me, tears streaking her cheeks.
“Oh, thank God,” she says, throwing herself at me in a hug.
“Great work, Terry,” my dad says. “You too, Roger. I won’t forget this.”
A woman and a young girl race up to Terry and he gets down on a knee, embracing the girl. They must be his wife and daughter, though I have no idea why they’re here.
