The pilot was the same guy we had seen running up the ramp. He didn’t look much older than me, with short military-cut hair. Both he and Feit wore gray flight suits.
His eyes were wide and frightened. He had no idea what to do.
“Sir?” he asked, near panic.
“Stay the course!” Feit bellowed.
Tori jammed the gun barrel into Feit’s back, making him grunt. “I swear I’ll do it,” she warned.
“What the hell?” Feit bellowed. “I can’t get rid of you people!”
I had my knee on Feit’s cheek, squeezing his head into the deck.
“Land the plane, Feit,” I demanded. “If you think we won’t shoot you, you are dead wrong.”
The pilot bolted out of his seat and dove at Tori.
Neither of us expected that.
Tori didn’t react in time, and it cost her. The pilot knocked her off of Feit and went for the gun. The move threw me off-balance, and that was all Feit needed to twist free and shove me back against the control console. I hit my head and saw stars but fought through it and launched myself at Feit, driving my head into his chest.
We hit the hatch, and it flew open, sending us tumbling into the cargo bay. The hinges must have been on springs because as soon as we cleared it, it slammed back shut.
A shot went off inside the cockpit. Then another.
I heard Tori yelp.
I tried to go back for the hatch, but Feit kneed me in the gut.
I doubled over as he pulled away from me and scrambled to get back to the cockpit.
Though I was hurting, I couldn’t let him get back in there. Not if Tori was hurt.
I struggled to my feet and went after him. I wrapped my arms around him and kept driving my legs forward, using his momentum and mine to drive his head into the hatch, making a sickening thud.
He was just as amped as I was and pushed off the bulkhead with his foot, sending us both backward and down to the invisible deck.
I caught a brief glimpse of the ground flashing by below. We were no longer in the desert. There were buildings down there. Many buildings. We were over civilization and headed for Los Angeles.
Feit shot an elbow backward and caught me in the temple, snapping my head back. It was all he needed to pull away from me.
But he was dazed. He couldn’t think fast, let alone move quickly. He struggled to get to his feet.
I wasn’t much better off. My ears rang, and colors swirled around me. I had to force myself to focus. If I didn’t end the fight soon, he would crush me. Any advantage I had was gone. He was an adult. A soldier. He knew how to fight. All I was was angry. If he was able to get himself together, I was done.
I spotted the jump seats. Feit was gathering himself up a few yards in front of them.
I pushed off the deck and charged him again.
This time, Feit knew I was coming and whirled around to face me. He stood up straight. Big mistake.
It was like a tackling drill I had done hundreds of times before. I got down low and led with my shoulder. I hit him square in the chest and pumped my legs, forcing him backward. Feit staggered back and landed in the jump seat.
Instantly the safety straps wrapped him up and locked him in. But he could still use his arms and legs. I couldn’t back off. I drove my forearm into his neck and held it there, jamming it against his windpipe.
My face was now inches from his. Feit’s nose was bleeding. It was probably broken. His hard breathing sent disgusting bits of blood and spit into my eyes, but I didn’t back off.
“Land this plane,” I demanded, seething. “You are not going to hit Los Angeles.”
“You can’t stop this, Tucker,” he hissed. “We’ve already won.”
“Who are you?”
Feit’s labored breathing turned into a gruesome laugh as he said, “Don’t you get it?”
“No. Explain it to me.”
“We’re you!”
His strange answer made my brain clutch for a brief instant. It was all the opening he needed to hit the release latch with his free hand to retract the straps. He shoved me, and I careened backward, fighting to keep from falling.
Feit launched out of the chair.
I got my balance and ran forward, cutting the angle to beat him to the hatch.
But he wasn’t going for the hatch.
He dropped to his knees and reached underneath the jump seats to grab something.
Whatever it was, I couldn’t let him get it, so I put on the brakes and headed his way…
…as he pulled out a black baton weapon.
He quickly turned it my way.
I froze. He had me.
Feit’s face was a mess, thanks to me. He was covered with blood from a smashed nose that was still spewing.
Through the gore, he shrugged and laughed. He always laughed.
“You know something? I don’t like you that much anymore,” he said and raised the weapon.
Boom!
The plane rocked so violently that we both fell to the deck. Boom!
We were jolted again as I saw a white flash of light through the transparent floor.
Two gray fighter jets screamed by below us.
We were under attack.
SYLO had joined the party.
Feit was disoriented. I had my chance and dove at him, grabbing the black weapon. We both had two hands on it, struggling to twist it out of the other’s control. Whoever lost would be dead.
It wasn’t going to be me.
Instead of pulling back, I pushed forward. Feit hadn’t expected that and fell onto his back. I did a somersault over his head while still clutching the baton. The weight of my body and the force from the move gave me the power to wrench the weapon from his grasp. I kept rolling, got to my feet, and spun back to face him.
Feit was still flat on his back. He was done.
I glanced quickly at the weapon, trying to figure out how to fire it. There was a button that was flush to the grip handle right where my thumb rested. I aimed the baton toward the silver canister on the far side of the cargo bay and pressed it.
There was a slight jolt as the weapon chugged in my grip, but not enough to make me lose control. The charge of energy hit the silver canister but only caused a slight dent. Whatever that thing was made of, it was strong.
More important, I knew how to use the gun.
“Get up,” I demanded as I took aim at him.
Feit slowly got to his feet.
“In there,” I said, nodding toward the cockpit. “If you so much as fart, you’re done.”
The guy was beaten. He nodded and shuffled toward the hatch with no argument.
I stole a quick glance at my watch.
In eighteen minutes the charges would explode.
I stayed close behind Feit, but not close enough for him to attack me. He pulled the hatch open, and I saw that the pilot was back in his seat. In one hand he held Tori’s pistol, aimed at something I couldn’t see. I had to believe it was Tori, and if he was aiming the gun, she was still alive.
“Put it down!” Feit ordered.
The pilot gave him a confused look. The guy was terrified. Can’t say that I blame him. We were being attacked. I wondered if the massive plane could maneuver like the smaller fighters. If not, we’d be shot out of the sky… and maybe that would be a good thing.
My question became irrelevant when two black Retro jets flashed by beneath us. The attack had become a dogfight. More black jets arrived to protect the mother ship as even more SYLO fighters arrived. The two sets of planes screamed past and around each other in a confused aerial ballet.
The SYLO fighters fired missiles, but the Retro jets blew them out of the air before they could reach their target.
Us.
“Sit down,” I ordered Feit.
I wanted him in his seat, where I could see him.
“Drop the gun,” Feit said to the pilot again.