The Circle- Taken Page 11

  “Seems like an extreme way to keep it from being used in combat without authorization,” I murmur.

  “The government lends us these capsules. They don’t want to take chances.” Jackie steps back onto the foot runner. “The magnet is opposite in polarization.”

  Following Jackie’s example, I grip the exterior edge of the cockpit and pull myself up and into the seat. I slip both hands through the shoulder straps then buckle myself in. Jackie follows suit.

  “The head-up display is your primary flight instrument.” Jackie leans over my shoulder to explain the instruments. “Eye level for focus.” She pats the controller. “These are your main flight controls — a force-sensitive side-stick controller and a pair of throttles.”

  There are seven liquid crystal display panels. “Is this where all the information is displayed?” I guess.

  “Got it in one.” She taps my helmet. “You have contact with me and the control tower.”

  Through the window, I watch as Derrick joins Hudson in operating the flights.

  “The speaker” — Jackie points to the one built into the console — “works if your helmet malfunctions. I have override control, so don’t worry.” She explains all the other necessary details, then motions for me to get started. “Take it up if you’re ready.”

  I wrap my palm around the knob, take a deep breath, and then turn it. The engines cough and the capsule vibrates as it spews to life. I push the lever to gather speed. Then slowly, like a newborn learning to walk, I go in reverse before steering it toward the concrete strip situated between the fields of grass.

  “Good.” Through the helmet, Jackie sounds impressed. “At the yellow line, push your lever back. That will get the nose into the air. When the altimeter reads five thousand, bring the lever to the middle to level the capsule.”

  I take it step by step, cautioning myself not to overthink it. I replay the instructions in my head until I can repeat them verbatim. The capsule slowly rolls past the building en route to the runway. Through the window, Gavin and Phoenix give me a thumbs-up. Ryan, next to them, watches me quietly.

  “Anytime now, Edmonds,” Ryan says through his helmet when he catches my gaze.

  I fuel the engine and propel the bird into the air. Objects fly past us as I increase the speed to power it down the concrete. The adrenaline that tempered my nervousness now pumps me to go faster.

  “Pull the yoke back,” Jackie instructs.

  I tug it in reverse. Gravity drives me into the seat as we rise nose-first. The wind whistles past us as we cut through the air. Beneath us, everyone shrinks in size. We break through the scattered clouds. Energized, I push the capsule. Immediately the control panel begins to beep.

  “Level out,” Jackie warns. “Stay steady at five thousand feet.”

  I readjust until we are parallel to the earth.

  “Circle the area twice,” Ryan orders. He’s curt, leaving no room for argument. “Stay in your airspace. Clear?”

  Following his direction, I keep my distance from the other capsules in the air. I shift the yoke and turn us but it’s too fast. The capsule jerks in response.

  “Careful,” Jackie warns. “You tug too hard, and we’ll go into a tailspin.”

  I lighten my touch, barely rotating the yoke. It tilts right as we start to circle. In the distance, the main building of the Circle looms over the sprawling land.

  “Who built the Circle?” I ask.

  “The first members.” With her control, Jackie tilts the capsule to the left to even us out. “History books say the founding members cemented the bricks together with mud and sweat over a hundred years ago.”

  Ahead of us, the ocean roars with life. Sweat breaks out over my upper lip as the waves increase in intensity against the shore. My blood pressure drops as my palms turn slippery. Afraid of losing control, I shift my gaze to the walls of rock and sand that nearly reach the sky.

  “The cliffs form a barrier against anyone who may want to harm us,” Jackie says, following my line of sight.

  There is pride mixed with a sense of belonging in her voice. Something I have never felt for any place or person. I have always been alone, searching. I envy her having a home and knowing where she belongs.

  “At night,” Jackie starts, “when everything is quiet, you can almost feel the Circle’s power.” She laughs, sounding embarrassed. “You feel very small in comparison. Hundreds of people have lived here before us, and hundreds will come after us. The Circle is what remains constant.”

  Behind the main building are miles of flat plains. The grass is so green it seems painted. I spot a small building hidden between rows of trees. Having never seen it before, I shift the capsule closer until we are hanging over it.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “The Sanctuary.” Jackie lowers her voice. I can hear her hurt and wonder about it. “It’s where Serafina stores the antidote.”

  We need more antidote. Our people are dying.

  The memory, like all the others, filters through my brain before disappearing. I repeatedly swallow until I am sure my voice is steady. “Antidote?”

  “The serum sickened several members. It was supposed to make their receivers work better, but it was at the cost of their health.” Jackie pauses. “The antidote is the only thing that keeps them alive.”

  “Bring it in.” Ryan breaks through our conversation. His voice is measured but direct. From it, I sense he doesn’t want Jackie giving me information. “The other two capsules will wait for you to land to start their descent.”

  “Copy.” Jackie taps the back of my seat. “Steer the bird toward the runway.”

  I carefully adjust my altitude and airspeed. Focused on the landing strip, I slowly lower the lever.

  “A thousand feet off the ground, open the hatch for the landing gear,” Jackie adds. “You’ll hear a metal clanking noise as the wheels are released. When the lights stop flashing, it means they’re fully out, and you are cleared for landing.”

  The capsule suddenly jerks and stops its descent. I push on the lever, but nothing. Just as I start to tell Jackie, it picks up speed.

  “Decrease the speed,” Jackie orders.

  “It’s locked.” I yank again on the throttle. The capsule turns left and heads toward the other planes in the air. “I’ve lost control of the speed and direction.”

  “Jackie.” Ryan cuts in, his voice tight and restrained. “Switch off her power. Take charge of the capsule.”

  Behind me, Jackie hits various controls, and then curses under her breath. “My controls are dead.” She pulls on the throttle, but nothing. “The capsule is in autopilot.”

  The capsule turns sharply toward the outer perimeter. I pull on the lever and frantically hit different controls, but nothing changes.

  “We’re minutes away from breaching the boundary.” Jackie relays the information matter-of-factly. “We’ll incinerate in less than six minutes.”

  On the console, the red button starts to flash frantically. “The magnet has switched polarization.”

  “The eject buttons are jammed,” Jackie adds. Hordes of people run out of the building to watch us. “We can’t get out. Five minutes to breach.”

  “I’m coming up,” Ryan says.

  “You can’t get to us in time,” Jackie returns. She pauses, then, “Who is in the air?”

  “Derrick just went up,” Ryan answers. “I’m looping him in now.”

  “Six hundred feet,” Jackie updates. The capsule continues to move us steadily toward our deaths.

  “I’m here,” Derrick says, joining the call. He circles the air before locking onto our capsule. “What’s the plan?”

  All three of them are calm and measured. Their voices reveal their respect for each other. I track the second capsule as it moves out of our airspace to begin its descent. Below us, the arena has gone q
uiet as they watch us intently.

  “It’s risky, and I don’t know if it’ll work,” Jackie says.

  “Tell me,” Derrick urges, impatient.

  “The magnet has shifted, so we’re opposite in polarization,” Jackie says. “In autopilot our speed is steady.”

  A crowd forms in the control room. Gavin, Ryan, and Phoenix watch us through the window. We fly over the center of the arena on a straight path to the perimeter.

  “Flip your capsule and attach it to the bottom of ours,” Jackie finishes.

  Mentally, I run through the scenario. The odds are against us. Derrick would be risking his own life to save ours. There is no way this works. I wait for him to say no, to refuse us any hope for survival.

  “With speed, I can pull you from the perimeter,” Derrick says, shocking me.

  “Derrick,” Jackie cautions, “you and I both know this is a bad idea.”

  “We won’t know if we don’t try.” Impatient, Derrick says, “Let’s do it.”

  He makes enough distance then turns, so we are facing one another. Across the expanse of the sky, I see his determination and calm.

  “I’ll come in beneath you,” he says. “We’ll go straight down. It’s going to be a fast turn, so hold on tight.”

  “Take us around the control building,” I add before he makes his move. “There are kids in the stadium.” I leave the rest unsaid. All the parties fall silent, understanding that if we die, we don’t want to take anyone with us.

  “Smart,” Derrick says. Through the headset, we hear Phoenix announce to the audience to get as far away as possible from our location. “Let’s move.”

  “The magnets shut off when the capsule nears the ground. Jackie, Alexia, be prepared to take control of your bird,” Ryan adds.

  Ryan’s direction says he believes in our survival. I hold onto his hope as if it is a fact. Derrick counts us down from three then flies full speed toward us. Our gazes lock over the expanse of the sky.

  “Here we go,” Jackie murmurs.

  Derrick rotates his capsule seconds before reaching us. A loud thud, then the metals scream in protest as they attach. Derrick hits the fuel, and the capsules rip through the air.

  Upside down, I grip my armrests as the earth flies past us. I fly forward and then back in my seat. My head rolls like a rag doll. We hurtle at full speed toward the ground.

  “Nearly there,” Derrick shouts over the screeching machines.

  “Derrick, come in sideways,” Ryan orders. “Alexia and Jackie, pull back on the throttle and pump the brakes.”

  “Copy,” Derrick answers. “Sixty seconds.”

  The capsules spiral as we plunge toward earth. Gravity pushes me into my seat. We hurtle past a canopy of trees. The ground opens up, ready to swallow us whole.

  “Now!” Ryan yells.

  I yank my throttle back at the same time Jackie pumps the brakes.

  “Autopilot is off!” Jackie yells. “Alexia, push your brakes!”

  Our capsule rips off from Derrick’s. We hit the ground with the sound of a cannon exploding. The momentum tosses us down the runway toward the looming control tower.

  “We’re going to crash into it.” I frantically pump the brakes, but it barely slows our momentum. I grip the console as we barrel toward the front of the building. “Get out,” I whisper to the crew inside.

  The capsule lurches to the right and, with only inches to spare, slides along the side. In the rearview mirror, I see Jackie using her entire weight to push the yoke. Sweat pours down her face. We tear past the control tower, inches from slamming into it. Ryan, Gavin, and the others rush out of the building toward us.

  I grip my armrests with every ounce of strength I have. My mind runs through the events I can remember – being found on the beach, my first day at the orphanage. The five years I spent trying to survive. Every day, I searched fruitlessly for my family. None of it matters now. In seconds we will be lost if the capsule explodes.

  “Get out of the way!” Jackie yells as the others run alongside us. “We’re still too fast!” The capsule drags across the concrete. Her voice is strained, struggling to get the words out.

  We soar past the arena and hit the grass. The force knocks us toward the trees.

  “Brace for impact!” I scream to Jackie, swallowing air.

  I cover my head and curl my body into crash position. The left side slams into a tree, throwing us into a tailspin. The world rotates until the capsule flips over and lands against another tree. Through the cracked shield, I make out distorted figures running toward us. I drop my head back and close my eyes as I breathe in and out – we survived. Against all the odds, we made it.

  Ryan reaches us first. He throws open the cockpit door. His gaze searches mine. When I give him a shaky nod, his face shifts from worried to relief. He glances behind me. “Jackie? Status?”

  “Alive,” Jackie murmurs. “Barely.”

  Gavin arrives right behind Ryan. They share a nod of understanding. Gavin reaches for Jackie and wraps her in his arms before gently pulling her out.

  “Thanks for the scare,” he murmurs into her hair.

  “Anytime.” Jackie leans on him as he slips an arm around her waist. Blood drips from a gash in her forehead.

  “Ready?” Ryan asks me. On my nod, he says, “Nice and easy, all right?” He carefully reaches over me to undo my belt, but it refuses to budge.

  “The harness is stuck,” I murmur.

  He slips a pocket knife out of his back pocket to slice the straps. With gentleness I never imagined, he frees me from its hold.

  “Anything broken?”

  I lift my arm, and pain rips through my muscles. “Just bruised.”

  “Good.” Without touching bare skin, Ryan moves to help me. When I hesitate to lean on him, he murmurs, “It’s OK, Edmonds.” Still unsure, I nonetheless wrap my arms around his neck for support as he lifts me out of the seat and over the mangled door. He sets me on my feet but keeps me close. “Can you stand?”

  “Yeah.” Still unsteady, I step out of his arms then lean on the capsule. I search the area. “Derrick? Is he…?”

  “He’s good,” Ryan answers. “All three of you are good.” He glances at the crushed capsule. Worry and something I can’t define covers his face. “Everyone’s safe.” A group converges around us. “You did well.” Ryan quickly squeezes my covered arm in reassurance then steps back and away from the crowd and me.

  I want to say something to him but can only watch as he heads alone into the building. The group follows close behind him into the building. Inside, everyone greets us with a round of applause and high fives. Jackie is immediately tended to by a medical technician. I spot Derrick in the corner talking to a senior pilot. Catching my eye, he says something to the pilot before heading toward the group of us.

  “That was lesson one.” Derrick tilts his head and considers me. “You passed. Barely.”

  “Can I take a rain check on lesson two?” I pause, searching for words to convey my feelings. Around us, the group falls silent. “I want to…” I start, and then stop.

  “You want to…” he prods, smiling.

  Embarrassed by the attention, I chide myself for bringing it on. “Thank you for what you did out there. We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  He pulls me in for a hug. “You’re welcome,” he whispers into my ear. But when he pulls away, I see the concern on his face.

  I wait for the others to start up their own conversations. Only when sure I won’t be overhead, I ask, “Has that ever happened before? The capsule?”

  Derrick glances over my head toward the door. His face hardens. I turn to follow his line of sight. Harrison. His gaze bores into mine. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. On the other side of the room, Ryan watches our interplay. Harrison’s gaze shifts from me to Derrick. Then,
without a word, he walks out.

  Things begin to turn in circles as a buzzing begins in my ear. I shift to Jackie, whose entire focus is on her conversation with Gavin. All around us, everyone talks animatedly with one another. The buzzing in my ear intensifies as my gaze sweeps over the group. Questions I don’t have the answers to flood my mind.

  “No,” Derrick finally answers my earlier question. I hear his confusion mixed with uncertainty and suspicion. “It’s never happened before.”

  SEVENTEEN

  I sit quietly with the crew in the far corner of the library. Flames from the burning fire dance in the hearth. Embers fly unencumbered before hitting the grate and dying. After a quick dinner, the group decided to hang out before bed. Everyone sits on either the chairs, loungers, or two oversized sofas.

  Gavin arrives late. From the doorway, he spots us and heads over. Jackie jumps up from her seat on a single chair and sits down on a double-seat lounger next to Shane. “Move now,” she orders.

  “I can’t.” Shane lays a hand over his stomach. He writhes in pain. “Agony,” he crows. “Something I ate.” He reaches out a hand in need. “Help me.”

  Jackie punches him in the stomach. He doubles over, sputtering with laughter. “All better?” Jackie asks sweetly.

  “Much.” He slides down the sofa and crawls from his spot to the chair Jackie vacated. “Your seat,” he motions to Gavin as he slinks over his feet.

  His cheeks bright red, Gavin takes the seat quickly. He leaves a foot of space between him and Jackie. “Everything good?” Gavin points to the bandage on Jackie’s forehead.

  Jackie touches it. “I’ll live.”

  “Good.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I came by your room, but you weren’t there.”

  When the group snickers, they both turn, realizing we are all listening. If possible, Gavin’s face shines an even brighter red.

  “Have you two kissed yet?” Shane ducks when Gavin throws a cushion off the sofa at him. “I only ask because you two seem very awkward for people who have swapped spit.”