Julian was once again crammed in a dark and noisy compartment. At least his hands weren't bound this time.

There wasn't much to do in an empty box. He tried planning what he'd say to Alice when he saw her, how to convince her he could help. But the words were slippery and elusive.

His mind kept drifting back to Nadeja. Every time he pictured her face his heart raced and his chest tightened. Was he falling in love? Or was it just another stage of shock? And what was he to her, the scion of a billionaire?

Julian's thoughts began to loop back on each other in the circular structure of dreams. He fell into a fitful slumber.

He was back in Slovakia, running through dark fields of rotting corn. Shadowy figures snatched at him from the darkness, tearing off shreds of clothing with wicked talons.

Others ran alongside him, jeering. His dead girlfriend berated him for infidelity, rasping through lips cracked by fire. Alice mocked his running form, then called him a lazy parasite. Antoine proffered a spoonful of soup the color of blood.

Julian awoke covered in cold sweat. He tried to sit up, but only succeeded in banging his head on the velvet-lined lid. At least it was padded.

His coffin rattled as the sound of rushing air built to a roar. The plane was making its final descent. It landed with a bump, taxied a short distance and cut the engine. Julian's terrors slowly receded, replaced by run of the mill anxiety over what came next.

He heard banging from outside his coffin, then someone began undoing the latches of his coffin lid. Julian's nervousness blossomed to full blown panic - this wasn't part of the plan; they were supposed to stay put until Zeke's friend opened the caskets in the morgue.

What kind of reception would they get, three stowaways from Europe landing in an Air Force base? Julian was technically a citizen, but he'd be hard pressed to prove it right now. And what would happen to Nadeja?

Julian's mind spun crazily searching for a plausible lie. He braced himself as the lid sprang open. A familiar mug smiled down at him.

"Dad?" Julian said in confusion.

"Heya kid. Sorry to interrupt. Zeke's a good guy, but I didn't get this far putting my life in the hands of others.

"We'll make our own way out. C'mon, get up and put this on." Marcos tossed an Army uniform at Julian. "Found it in the hold. Had to guess at the size, but I think it'll fit well enough."

Julian climbed stiffly out and was surprised to see Nadeja sitting on the coffin next to him, already wearing her own set of fatigues.

"How long have you been out?" Julian asked.

"Marcos pulled me just after takeoff," she replied, "Maybe ten hours or so?".

"And you couldn't get me too?" Julian asked, bewildered.

"Marcos said you could use the rest. He's not wrong. You look tired Julian."

Julian shook his head and cursed softly. "Next time at least ask."

"Quit yapping and get dressed." Marcos cut in. "Let's not be literally caught with our pants down."

"Alright, alright. Give me some privacy?"

"It's not like you've got anything either of us hasn't already seen," Marcos quipped. But he turned his back. Nadeja winked at Julian then turned around as well.

Once Julian was dressed Marcos looked him over. "Close enough for government work. Let's get out of here."

Marcos walked back through the cargo hold to a hatch that led into the main body of the plane. He eased it a crack and peaked out, then nodded and pushed it the rest of the way open.

"Alright you two, here's the plan. We're going to exit the plane and walk purposefully toward the nearest hanger. Anyone asks you what you're doing, you tell them that's privileged info, and to talk to General Hausner. Whatever happens, you don't stop walking."

"What will we do in the hangar?" Julian asked.

"We find a plane and get out of here." Marcos replied simply.

"We're stealing a plane?!" Julian asked incredulously.

"Shh, keep it down. It's not stealing, it's misappropriation. I'm still technically an officer. Now follow me and try to walk like I walk. And keep your rifle pointed at the ground."

Marcos led them out and down the stairs. The tarmac was bustling with activity, but no one paid them any mind as they strode toward an open hangar.

"There we go," Marcos murmured. He was looking at a small sleek jet near the front of the building. "The EC-13 Canvasback. It's pretty highly classified, so try not to take any selfies."

The only other person in the hangar was a technician, busy minding a diagnostic readout on a nearby plane. Marcos approached him.

"That Canvasback ready to fly? General Hausner sent the requisition two hours ago. What's it still doing in the hangar?" Marcos's voice boomed with gruff command.

"Sorry sir. I have not received any orders."

"I don't have time for apologies, I need this bird in the air. Is she ready to fly or not?"

"Yes sir, she's fueled and good to go. Can I see your–"

Marcos had already turned and was walking toward the airplane. "What are you waiting for?" He called back. "Grab the steps and get over here."

The technician hesitated, then saluted and ran for the rollaway ladder. Moments later the three of them were seated in the small craft, Marcos at the stick.

"You've flown one of these?" Julian asked.

"Only the prototype," Marcos admitted, "but it's not rocket science." He signaled to the technician to take away the ladder and started flicking switches on the instrument panel. The engines sprang to life and he eased the plane out of the hangar.

"What's the big hurry anyhow?" Julian asked.

"Weizza got in touch while we were on our way over. She's ready to take another go at hijacking Petbe. Thinks she'll be able to try again in a few hours." Marcos paused, reflecting.

"Personally, I think she's underestimating SumatoTek and Blackmountain. They'll be watching for her. You want to help your mom? We need to be there yesterday. Now strap in, I'm getting us out of here."

The plane's speaker clicked on. "This is air traffic control to Air Force Alpha Charlie Three Five Oh. We do not have a flight plan on file for your departure."

"Roger that. This is Major Oliveira on special assignment for General Hausner. I am not at liberty to divulge my destination. I need to be airborne ASAP."

"I'll need to call that one in Major Oliveira. Please stand by."

Marcos whistled tunelessly as he brought the plane out to a launch pad. He keyed the radio back on. "Flight control, I do not have time for delays. I'm going vertical while you sort it out with the boss."

"Please Major Oliveira, this will only take a moment."

Marcos ignored him and fired the vertical takeoff rotors. The Canvasback rose gracefully into the air.

The radio clicked back on. "Sorry for the delay sir, you are clear for takeoff."

Marcos smiled and hit the main jet ignition. The acceleration was sudden and brutal. It felt like bottoming out on a rollercoaster, but it just went on and on.

Julian struggled to keep his head up, peering out through a darkening tunnel of vision. The light dwindled to a pinpoint, then the pressure mercifully subsided and the plane leveled off.

"Hooah!" Marcos whooped. "Ever flown hypersonic son? What a rush."

Julian blinked and shook his head, trying to get some blood back to his brain. Once he recovered he turned to Marcos.

"What happened back there?" Julian asked. "You knew they would let you joyride their super-secret jet?"

"Honestly son, I had no idea if that would work. But I figured once we were in the air this baby could outrun anything they sent after us."

"But they did let you go. Why?"

"Well, I've technically been in deep cover on Blackmountain for almost a decade. Some might say I'd gone native. Wasn't sure if my remit was still good. I guess Hausner still trusts me."

"Where are we going anyway?" Nadeja asked.

"Portland, Oregon," Marcos answered. "Weizza is there getting a part made. After that, only she knows."

"And what, you just park this at the airport?" Julian asked.

"Yep. There's a national guard installation there, they're used to military jets. Won't be a problem. Anyhow, not much to do now but fly straight. Should be there in about–

"Hold on a sec, I'm getting something from Weizza. She's pinned down in an industrial park. Guess one of the players got wind of her plan."

Marcos punched in a course correction and the plane banked subtly.

"Hang tight kids, looks like we'll be landing a little rougher."