The Continent (The Continent #1)(21)

I turn back to my mother and father, who sit across the aisle in the row behind me. My father is looking out the window, his lips pressed into a tight line, and my mother is white-faced. She reaches forward to take my hand, but says nothing.

The plane drops down, seems to rise back up for half a moment, and then drops a second time. Then a third. It’s shaking so violently now that my whole body is jerking back and forth, and I hear myself screaming.

“Put her in the escape pod,” my father shouts, and in an instant, my mother is in the aisle, pulling me toward the aft end of the plane.

My father turns back to the Shaws. “You two get to the rear cabin before that smoke gets any thicker.”

“Wait!” wails Mrs. Shaw. “My bags! Arthur!”

My mother drags me along; I stumble as the floor lurches beneath my feet, but her hold on me doesn’t waver. Against the cacophony of clattering metal, of Mr. Shaw and Mrs. Shaw yelling at one another, and of the steward trying to calm them down, I hear my father’s voice, soft and reassuring. “It will be all right, Vaela. Don’t worry. Keep moving.”

I inch past my mother and step into the aft cabin. My father moves toward the panel where the escape pod is concealed; the door is ajar but not fully open, and it bangs back and forth as the heli-plane shudders in the air.

“Come along now, Vaela,” my father says, holding out his right hand. “We’ll put you in, just for good measure.”

“Why is this panel already open?” my mother says, but as she pulls it wide, the answer becomes clear.

Staring at us from behind the thick glass of the pod, secured within the locked enclosure, is Aaden.

“Get out,” my father says. “Now.”

Aaden doesn’t answer and makes no move to exit the pod. His blue eyes are fierce and cold; he glares at my father with a sort of hostile defiance that takes me by surprise. He does not look at me.

My father tries to open the door, but Aaden has locked it from the inside. The heli-plane drops sharply; this time, it’s enough to lift my feet off the floor and send me tumbling against the opposite wall. My mother and father have fallen, too; only Aaden, safe within the pod, remains upright.

“Coward!” my father yells, getting up and pounding on the glass door. “There are women present—have you no honor?” He turns on his heel and pushes past me, moving toward the main cabin.

My mother’s eyes grow wide. “Thomas! Where are you going?” She turns back to the pod. “Aaden, please. You must let Vaela take your place.”

“I don’t think he can hear you,” I say. “The glass is very thick.”

My mother stares at him. “He knows exactly what I’m saying.”

“It’s all right, really,” I say. “Just let him be.”

“Open this door!” she says, ignoring me.

Aaden doesn’t move, but his eyes dart to the cabin entrance. My father pushes the steward through the doorway.

“Please, sir,” the steward says, “I must assist Mr. Shaw. His wife is quite upset, you see, and she doesn’t wish to—”

“Open the escape pod,” my father says. “I know you have a key. Open it.”

The steward blinks at him before glancing at the pod. “You want me to—”

“Open it, so I can pull that miserable coward out of it,” my father says. “Now!”

The steward hurries forward, flipping through a large set of brass keys. The plane lurches again, and as I steady myself, I see Aaden gripping the handle with both hands; there is fear in his eyes now, and he seems to be telling the steward to eject the pod.

The key clicks into place within the glass door and the steward tries to turn the handle, but Aaden is far too strong. He is no match for my father, however, who shoves the steward out of the way and yanks open the door. Aaden tries to pull it back, but my father wedges his knee into the pod and forces the door open. Then he punches Aaden squarely in the face and wrenches him free of the pod.

Aaden rolls forward, knocking the steward to the ground. Then he turns back to my father, blood dripping from his nose. “You’ve killed me! Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve killed me!”

My father’s face is twisted with rage. “I ought to kill you, and if this heli-plane doesn’t do it, then I may yet finish what I’ve started!”

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Shaw steps through the doorway, carrying a handful of baggage; Mrs. Shaw is close on his heels. “Why are you threatening my son, sir?”

“Get in the pod, Vaela,” my mother says. She doesn’t wait for me to answer, but takes the ring of keys from the lock and presses the cold little bundle into my hand. “Get in.”

“Please, no,” I say. “It’s dreadfully small—I feel much safer out here. Let Aaden—”

“Get in!” she says again, the tiny muscles in her cheeks jerking sporadically.

Trembling, I step into the pod and position myself against the cushion within. “Mother, please—”

She closes the door and taps on the handle. “Lock it,” she says, or at least, that’s what it looks like she says; the sound of her voice is completely muted behind the thick glass. I feel as though I can’t breathe, and locking the door only makes it worse.