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Furious kids begin to arrive at the Admiral's jet.
"Get him! Get him! Pull him out!"
They climb the steel steps. The hatch is open, but just a crack. Risa looks out at the wave of mayhem, like a human tsunami pounding toward her.
"He's got a girl in there with him!"
The first of the kids reaches the top of the stairs and heaves the hatch open, only to be met by Risa, and a brutal punch to the jaw. It sends him tumbling over the side and to the ground—but there's more where he came from.
"Don't let her close that door!"
The second kid is met by an aerosol burst of bactine right to his eyes. The pain is excruciating. He stumbles backward into the other kids coming up the stairs, and they tumble like dominos. Risa grabs the hatch, swings it closed, and seals it from the inside.
Kids are on the wings now, finding every piece of loose metal and prying it up. It's amazing how much of a plane can be shredded by bare-handed fury.
"Break the windows! Pull them out!"
Kids on the ground throw rocks that hit their comrades as often as they hit the jet. On the inside it sounds like a hailstorm. The Admiral blanches at the scene outside the windows. His heart races. His shoulder and arm ache. "How did this happen? How did I let this happen?"
The barrage of stones batters the fuselage, but nothing breaks the armored steel, nothing cracks the bulletproof glass of the former Air Force One. Then someone tears out the power line connecting the jet to its generator. The lights go out, the air-conditioning shuts down, and the entire jet quickly begins to bake in the broiling sun.
44 Connor
"You murdered Amp, Jeeves, and the rest of the Goldens."
"You're crazy!"
Connor sits outside crate 2933, wiping his brow in the heat. Roland's voice comes from inside, muffled, but loud enough to hear.
"You got rid of them so you could take their place," Connor says.
"I swear, when I get out of here, I'll—"
"You'll what? You'll kill me like you killed them? Like you killed Emby?"
No response from Roland.
"I said I'd make you a deal," says Connor, "and I will. If you confess, I'll make sure the Admiral spares your life."
In response, Roland suggests Connor perform a physical impossibility.
"Confess, Roland. It's the only way I'm letting you out of there." Connor is sure that, if put under enough pressure, Roland will confess to what he's done. The Admiral needs evidence, and what better evidence than a full confession.
"I have nothing to confess to!"
"Fine," says Connor. "I can wait. I have all day."
45 Mob
The fortress of the Admiral's jet is impenetrable. The temperature inside is soaring past one hundred. Risa's handling the heat, but the Admiral doesn't look too good. She still can't open the door, because the mob is relentlessly trying to get in.
Outside, whatever kids aren't swarming over the Admiral's jet are spreading out. If they can't get to the Admiral, then they'll destroy everything else. The study jets, the dormitory jets, even the recreation jet—everything is being torn apart, and whatever can burn is set aflame. They are filled with an insatiable fury, and beneath it is a strange joy that the anger can finally be released. And beneath the joy is more fury.
From halfway across the Graveyard, Cleaver sees the smoke rising in the distance, beckoning him. Cleaver is drawn to mayhem. He must be a witness to it! He gets into his helicopter and flies toward the angry mob.
He sets down as close to the chaos as he dares to get. Have his deeds in any way led to this? He hopes so. He turns off the engine, letting the blades slow, so he can hear the wonderful sounds of havoc. . . . Then the angry Unwinds turn toward him.
"It's Cleaver! He works for the Admiral."
