Chapter 25

The fear began to creep in miles above the earth.

Whenever Zane tried to imagine what had come over him when Jonas was being pulled apart, he could never put a name to it. And it scared him. He had lost all his control, all his willpower. He had become an animal, and not in a Marcus sense.

He had been overwhelmed by a primal urge to protect those he cared for. The connection he felt with Jonas was unlike the one he shared with Joseph or Daisy. It was a connection of experiences, thoughts, fears. When Joseph was in danger, it was as if his future was hanging by a thread. But when Jonas had been in peril, it was as if Zane himself was in peril. The tall boy was so similar to Zane, a rule-following citizen who was manipulated by Wawrzynski.

As they cruised at thirty-five thousand feet, Jonas at the controls, he let himself be terrified. He let himself remember the red that had crossed his vision, how he had zeroed in on the soldiers and his thoughts had been occupied by every possible way he could hurt them.

And when he thought of what happened with Joseph after, he couldn't help but sense a hint of metallic taste upon his tongue. He had viciously harmed many people without remorse and had the audacity to feel happiness just moments later. Their kiss felt false, unreal, and not in a good way. He was slightly sick to his stomach. Not because of this kiss, it was fantastic, but because of the horrific background events that he had created.

His limbs got twitchy the longer he sat down, so he stood up, struggling to keep from swaying. He couldn't confront this right now. Maybe he could never confront this. He found himself longing to make a promise, a vow with himself, to never hurt anybody else. But inside he knew this was foolish, for in his current predicament, there would be no choices, no chances. Nothing but forced actions.

It was what Wawrzynski wanted.

He stumbled out of the small bunking quarters into the main body of the plane. It had been designed to hold two dozen soldiers, so it fit them all extremely comfortably. Two benches lined the walls of the thin plane, and Marcus was lounged across them, his feet propped up opposite from where he was sitting. Daisy must have packed multitudinous boxes of Froot Loops, for she was having Mallory toss them into her mouth. Joseph was positioned nearby, his knees spread wide, his eyes closed. Zane couldn't tell if he was sleeping or simply taking a breather.

Next to the door Zane had come from, a ladder led up to the cockpit of the plane, where he presumed Jonas was, and perhaps Anastasia. The bunking quarters were tucked underneath the cockpit in a small room with a low ceiling.

Zane scaled the ladder, not relishing getting hit with Froot Loops as he tried to sit down. What he dreaded slightly more was the conversation Daisy was sure to have with him once she caught him alone. He still wasn't sure how he felt about what happened with Joseph, so how could he describe it to her?

The first thing in the cockpit he saw was a flash of bright red, Anastasia's hair. It stood out starkly against the covert blackness of the plane's interior. Whereas Daisy's dyed hair was a less vibrant color, Anastasia's could probably cause blindness.

"Hey, Zane," Jonas said. He had donned a pair of aviator sunglasses, ironically, and they were positioned on top of his mop of hair.

Zane nodded his greetings as he planted his feet on the floor of the cockpit, swaying slightly. He almost toppled over backward. Anastasia didn't spare him a glance. She appeared to be muttering words under her breath, over and over, as if reciting a line for a play.

"How's your dislocated shoulder?" Zane asked, directing the question toward Jonas. He still didn't know what had happened to the boy, but he respected his secrecy. Seeing as he'd been Wawrzynski's foster son, he deserved to have some secrets.

The other boy rotated his shoulder, the joint grinding slightly. "Not the greatest, but I managed to pop it back in. It made the most awful sound."

Anastasia shivered in response to this statement, but said nothing.

Zane felt a vague sense of queasiness as his eyes flicked to the thick window that gazed into the immense sky. There were two causes for his queasiness; the sheer largeness of the sky, and the fact that he could not see the ground. The thought of flying thousands of feet in the air in a place that appeared to have no end was not agreeing with Zane. He averted his gaze, focusing them back on Anastasia and Jonas, the two newest members of their entourage of biologically enhanced teenagers. Maybe I should copyright that, he thought, and chuckled.

"How are you feeling?" Jonas asked nonchalantly, but Zane sensed a hidden meaning. Jonas had seen what he'd done to those soldiers. He must have seen the rage in Zane's eyes, the pure violence and anger that he hadn't been able to retain. Jonas was not inquiring about Zane's physical state. He was asking about his mental state, his emotional state.

Zane dug deep into his feelings, trying to decipher them. He felt immense guilt at what he'd done, but also purpose. He had saved Jonas, the boy he had known for years but had only just met. He had cleared the path through the enormous doors. And he didn't kill the soldiers, at least he hoped not. He had only harmed them and not at all fatally.

Before, sitting all alone, his brain had focused on the negative aspects, the guilt and regret, but with Jonas's soft gaze on him, his mind harbored the positives, the pride and joy. He smiled at Jonas. "I'm fine," he said, but those words spoke thousands more. Jonas realized this and smiled back.

"Good."

Zane walked forward and stared at the vast control board of the jet, buttons upon levers upon switches upon toggles upon dials. He scrunched his eyebrows together for he had never expected such a magnitude of controls and commands. "You sure you know how to fly this thing?" he asked, a hint of worry invading his tone.

Jonas shrugged absentmindedly. "I read a book," he said.

Zane scoffed. "We're all trusting you with our lives because you read a book?"

"It was a very descriptive book,"

Zane abandoned the path of the conversation and looked Jonas and Anastasia over. They would never say it, but Mallory and Marcus didn't trust them. Zane had never missed the untrusting glances thrown Anastasia's way in the tunnel and the facility, and for the past few hours, the subtle and fearful glances toward the cockpit, as if Jonas would crash the plane purposefully just to spite them.

Mallory and Marcus did have a right to be judgemental, though. Marcus had been mercilessly experimented on and had probably been told a multitude of lies until he couldn't tell the difference between the truth and a lie. Mallory had learned on the streets to never trust anybody.

Zane, however, fully trusted Jonas and Anastasia. Anastasia was Daisy's sister, and no matter how annoying Daisy could be, she truly was a great friend and a good judge of character. She had lived with Anastasia for her entire childhood.

Zane connected deeper with Jonas through shared experiences. They had both been loyal subjects of New Vancouver until a horrible event turned their predictable lives upside down without warning. They had both been inconvenienced by Wawrzynski and had both been experiments in his lab. Joseph could not fully relate because he had had a real childhood, a memorable childhood. Zane and Jonas had not.

A jolt shuddered through the plane, threatening to toss Zane around like a ragdoll. A red light blinked upon the control panel, and Jonas's hands blurred as they flew everywhere, flicking switches and spinning dials. His eyes were frantic and they rested on the pinging radar scanner next to him.

"What's going on?" Zane asked, bracing his hands against the short roof of the cockpit. Anastasia stepped back, allowing Jonas access to the entire panel. Another jolt rattled the plane, and the hairs on the back of Zane's neck stood up, sensing danger.

Jonas tapped the radar, the sound echoing around the suddenly silent cabin. "We've got company." He threw a large sliding lever forward, and the plane shuddered as it began to pick up speed. Cries of surprise echoed from below, Marcus's the loudest. What a way to wake up, Zane thought.

"He won't give up!" Zane yelled furiously, his sharp tone reverberating off the dark metal. He turned around, shuffling forward so he could see the others.

Daisy was near the hangar doors, tapping her foot anxiously. Sometime in the last few hours, she'd changed her outfit. It was all dark and brooding, blacks and blues and grays. A navy leather jacket had been tossed over her upper body. He couldn't see her face, but he imagined the look of carefully concealed fear and overly evident self-confidence.

Mallory was sitting with Marcus where he'd been sleeping, tightly gripping his hand in her own. It was obviously hurting him, but he said nothing. His hair was ruffled, his body and mind obviously exhausted from the extraneous use of his power earlier.

And Joseph was climbing up the ladder in quick steps and swings of his arms. His brow was furrowed, worry evident in the creases around his mouth. When he looked up and saw Zane, they faded slightly. "I'm assuming Wawrzynski's on our tail, like he has been for a goddamn month?" he said viciously, his worry for Zane becoming anger and retribution.

"Yep," Zane responded, glancing over his shoulder at the green glow the radar gave off. "He's persistent, I gotta give him that." He blew a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

He offered Joseph a hand and helped him up the last few steps. He felt slightly awkward, not sure what to think of their previous encounter in the snow outside the hangar. Sure, he reciprocated Joseph's feelings, but it felt wrong to feel so good. But he knew that Joseph felt a certain way about him, and he felt the same way, so maybe it would feel good to feel so wrong.

He gently rubbed his hand across Joseph's, their knuckles colliding.

Jonas was still scrambling with the controls. "There's two jets coming in behind us, one from the northwest and the other from the southwest." He closed his eyes, probably recalling something he'd seen, prying it from the hard drive of the microchip in his mind. "Knowing Father," he said, and Zane noted he avoided calling Wawrzynski by his real name. "They're armed with Shaurya missiles, which are extremely lethal and contain a nuclear component. But they will also be armed with less lethal ballistics designed to give us a shock, convince us to turn around."

"So we have nothing to worry about?" Joseph asked hopefully.

"I wish I could say that," Jonas responded, his gaze dropping, his hands still keeping the jet steady and the speed increased. "Father has a lot of different serums. If he decides we're not worth his time and money, he'll fire the Shauryas. There'll be nothing left of us."

"And that's bad?"

"Indeed,"

"So what do we do?" Zane asked, his terror increasing.

"We have two options," Jonas said calmly. "We either find a way to get them off our tail, or we turn around and go back, just like they want us to."

Joseph scoffed. "The latter option won't do. We're just putting ourselves back into the hands of a madman."

"Do you want to die?" Anastasia pitched in.

"Touché,"

Anastasia pointed finger guns at Joseph and clicked her tongue. She smiled widely despite the circumstances.

Zane didn't feel like smiling. "So what do we do?"

Jonas sighed, his hands halting for a split second. "Is there anything any of you can do to get them off our tail?"

Zane thought about the rushing wind outside the plane and he knew he could do nothing. He would simply dwindle himself down to nothing, his cells lost in the vast sky. Joseph's ability to transform into any material did not help them. Anastasia needed the ground to draw up magma, and Marcus could never change into an animal fast enough to keep up with the jets. The same went for Daisy. And even if Mallory managed to stretch her limbs that far, their leverage would be minimal.

He shook his head at Jonas. "You got anything?" he asked, curious about what Jonas had inflicted upon himself.

Jonas sighed once again. "There's something I can do, but there's a high chance it might kill me." They all fell silent. Jonas's somber mood disappeared. "I'll try and shake them, see if they can keep up with me when I Macarena."

Zane cocked his head. "What's a Macarena?"

Anastasia clapped a hand over her heart in mock injury. "I'm insulted," she said, her eyes shining. "Remind me later, and I'll show you."

Jonas chuckled. "You can dance later," he said. "For now, buckle up." He raised his voice and yelled down to the others. "Strap yourselves in down there!"

Zane still had no idea what a Macarena was, but he buckled himself into one of the four seats in the cockpit. Jonas, Anastasia, and Joseph did the same. He felt constricted by the tight bands around his waist and chest, and his mind conjured the image of Wawrzynski's lab chair, the serum-filled syringe hovering above his skin. An identical syringe became heavier in his pocket.

Jonas tipped his sunglasses down, covering his eyes. "Let's get funky," he said, and jerked a toggle to the right. The plane tilted in that direction, turning sideways. Zane found himself suspended by only the canvas straps he had placed over his body moments before. One of them dug into his neck and he found his breath cut off.

The tilt was only momentary. The plane levelled out again, but it was heading in the opposite direction, straight toward the two followers. Zane yelled a warning to Jonas, but he jerked upward on the stick and the plane lifted up and over the other jets. Jonas hollered in joy as he rotated the plane whilst turning it, righting behind the other jets.

A missile detached from the left plane, heading backward, straight for them. "Shit!" Jonas yelled. "Rear-facing missiles!" He yanked the stick, and the plane dove, the missile hot on its tail. The constant pinging of the radar indicated the closeness of the dangerous projectile.

Their forward flight turned into a downward spiral. Jonas was focused only on the route of the plane, his sunglasses slightly askew from his sudden bank earlier. His mouth was set in a grim line, his forehead scrunched in concentration.

The missile struck the back of the plane, jolting it forward. Zane's head snapped to the side, and he heard a sharp pop. The canvas belt dug into his shoulder. He gritted his teeth to keep from screaming.

A shout came from below. "Go faster!" Daisy screamed, her voice shaky and almost indiscernible.

"Trying!" Jonas yelled back. He dropped the plane into the clouds, hoping to shake the two jets by taking cover. It was a futile attempt. A city as advanced as New Vancouver outfitted all their jets with sonar and radar, making the clouds obsolete.

Zane bit his tongue when a sudden burst of speed brought them rocketing back in front of the other two planes. Anastasia gripped the arms of her seat, her fingers digging into the thin fabric. Joseph looked like he might hurl if Jonas decided to take them for another loop-de-loop.

The radar's pinging became extremely insistent. Zane's ears rang as the beeps surpassed a couple per second and became an incessant metallic whine. Jonas swore. "They've fired again!" He yanked the stick to the left and then straight down. Joseph grabbed at his stomach and Zane clapped his hands over his ears to tune out the noise.

"Can you lose it?" Zane screamed.

Jonas glanced at the radar, a flick of a glance in a fraction of a second. "No," he said sadly. "It's a Shaurya."

Without warning, he unbuckled and stood up. "Anastasia, grab the stick. Keep it level, just how I showed you."

"Right on, boss," she said, exaggerating a salute. She slid into his vacated seat as he walked toward the ladder. She flipped a few switches and held the stick firmly, not letting it move at all in her grasp.

Jonas turned around, his sunglasses pushed back into their original position. His eyes were barely visible through the tinted lenses, but Zane thought he saw fear and anxiety. "Come on, you two," he said quieter than usual. "I'll need your help."

"Where are we going?" Joseph asked, unbuckling his seatbelt and removing his hand from his stomach. He righted his shirt and stood up. Zane caught sight of a strip of skin above the boy's waist, and the now-familiar tingle flooded through his blood.

"We're going to stop that missile,"