How much more fighting can I do before I need a serious rest? A rest. That’s funny. As if there’s time for that with warships still hovering over twenty-odd cities, simply waiting for Setrákus Ra to finish his sick experiments, finish getting stronger, before finally attacking. There’s no time to rest. So the question becomes, how far can I push myself—how much damage can I do—before I finally collapse?
Guess I’ll find out.
“I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, make sure your people are ready to launch the attack as soon as possible.”
Before Lawson can respond, I hang up.
Finished with the Loralite stone, Ella walks back over to me. I toss her the satellite phone, and she catches it with two hands.
“Tell the others they should coordinate with Lawson on delivering the cloaking devices,” I say. “We’ll meet in West Virginia. Bring the warship. We’ll take down the Anubis and finish off Setrákus Ra.”
“Um, okay,” Ella says, and raises an eyebrow. “What are you going to do?”
I gaze in the direction of our stolen warship, still visible on the horizon.
“I’m going for a repeat performance.”
Ella’s eyes widen. “Another warship?”
“I’m just getting warmed up.”
“Wait, John—”
Before Ella can try to talk me out of it, I’m back in the air, streaking away from Niagara Falls. This is how it has to be. I need to keep going. No matter how tired I feel, I need to keep fighting.
The sun is already getting low in the sky. It took the better part of the day to get up here, to take that warship, to organize everyone. Too slow. Pushing myself to fly faster, an odd sensation that’s a bit like diving upwards into a pool, I decide that I’ll head for DC. I’m not a GPS, I don’t know exactly where I’m going but I figure that if I head southeast I’ll start to see landmarks and cities that I recognize and, eventually, my target.
I tell myself that I’ll be faster this way, more efficient, and that it’s ultimately safer for the others. Even so, I think, I should’ve at least brought Bernie Kosar along. He and Dust watching my back was invaluable, and he would’ve fit right into the pocket of my vest until I needed him.
Oh, damn it. My vest.
I look down at myself and cringe. I’m an idiot. I took some major volleys of blaster fire during my assault on that warship. The cloaking device I had strapped to my chest along with the battery pack that provided its juice are both completely fried. I’m flying around with two useless pieces of plastic strapped to my body.
With a disgusted shake of my head, I unclip the vest and let it fall to the ground below.
I can’t go back to Niagara Falls. Ella will have definitely told the others by now, and they’ll try to talk me out of going off on my own. Part of me knows this is a crazy idea that wouldn’t stand up to Six and Marina getting in my face. No, can’t go back there.
I’ll have to make a stop at Patience Creek. I’ve got a better chance of not facing any lectures there.
Luckily, I’m not too far from Lake Erie, and once I get close it’s not all that hard for me to retrace the flight path that Lexa took earlier today. After only a few swoops in wrong directions—and one stretch where I found myself stuck in a bank of clouds unable to navigate—I see the faux bed-and-breakfast on the lakeshore. Even with the wrong turns, the trip was still quicker than in our ship. And I’ve only just begun pushing this flight Legacy.
My plan is to fly in through the cavern a few miles south of the complex, shoot through the tunnel and enter directly into the underground garage, where I know the cloaking devices are kept. In and out. Except when I glide by the main cottage, something doesn’t look quite right.
The sun is just beginning to set, causing the trees to cast long shadows across the grounds. I know for a fact that Lawson had a few soldiers hidden out here, acting as sentries. Maybe the weird lighting is messing with my vision, but I swear I don’t see them.
I fly lower and notice something else. There’s a black government SUV parked in the gravel driveway right in front of the house. That’s unusual. This place has been kept such a secret because everyone uses the cavern entrance. None of Lawson’s people would be dumb enough to park a blatant government vehicle right in front of this top secret location.
But then I remember, I loaned one of those cars to someone else. For a personal matter.
Mark James.
I come in for a landing a few yards from Patience Creek’s porch. To my left, the tire swing attached to an old maple tree sways gently back and forth. Everything seems quiet and normal, but I’m getting a weird sense that I’m being watched.