“I love the way you think, Addie girl.” Joe’s gaze warmed me from the inside out. He turned to Ted. “Better put her under the tarp. There’s not a chance in hell she’d pass as a guy.”
Ted and the private helped me into the back of a Jeep truck. For the second time that night, I sprawled on my belly—this time next to a spare tire. They fastened a tarp over me and I lay there, inhaling the scent of rubber, moldy canvas, and exhaust, as the Jeep jerked forward. After a few moments, the truck abruptly stopped.
Figuring we were at the plane, I was debating whether to try to unfasten the canvas tarp on my own or wait for assistance, when I heard two doors slam on another vehicle.
“Where are you two going?” said a deep voice.
I froze, my muscles quiver-tight.
“To the Queen of New Orleans, sir,” the private said.
“We need to remove a loose gun mount,” I heard Ted add.
“Oh, that’s right. The Queen is taking a rookie crew on a night spin,” another man said.
“All right,” said the first voice. “Carry on, soldiers.”
“Yes, sir. Good evening, sirs.”
The truck lurched forward again. The next time it stopped, I lay still even after the engine died and I heard both doors slam shut.
Ted lifted the tarp. “All clear,” he said. “We’re on the side of the plane away from the tower, but we still better hurry.”
I scurried out of the truck bed and followed him to a small hatch at the front of the plane. He boosted me in, swung in himself, then led me down a long, narrow aluminum catwalk over a cavernous opening in the middle of the plane.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“The bomb bay. You’re going to sit in the very back.”
I followed him down the precariously skinny walkway. At the back of the plane, he motioned to a seat surrounded by Plexiglas windows, facing backward. “Here’s your seat.”
I hesitated. “Do I need to put on a parachute?”
“Do you know how to use one?”
“No.”
He gave me a crooked grin. “Well, then, it won’t do you any good.”
I swallowed as I sank into the seat. My mouth felt as if it had been swabbed out with cotton, then packed with sand.
“Here’s something you will need, though—the plug-in for your flight suit.” He pointed to an electric socket and handed me the cord of my flight suit. “Plug it in when you start to get cold. You’ll need your oxygen mask, too, if we get above much above ten thousand feet.” He handed it to me and showed me how to put it on and how to turn on the tank.
“How will I know when to use it?”
“I’ll come tell you. But once we’re airborne, you can go ahead and put it on if you start feeling light-headed.”
I wondered if I could just put it on now. When I’d agreed to this adventure, I’d known I was in danger of being arrested and killed by my mother if I were caught. I also knew there was a possibility of dying in a plane crash, but I hadn’t realized I would also be at risk of freezing to death or being starved of oxygen.
I must have looked as scared as I felt, because Ted grinned at me. “Hey—don’t worry. Joe’s the best pilot around, and he won’t let this young pup get too far out of line before he brings him to heel.”
My anxiety ratcheted up a notch. “Joe won’t be piloting?”
“He’s training someone. But relax—Joe will be in complete control. He always is.”
In the next twenty minutes or so, my apprehension grew to stark terror. I was sweating in the flight suit and wasn’t sure if it was because of the heavy clothing or fear.
I heard other men board the plane, and I thought Joe would come back and reassure me before we took off, but he didn’t. I guess he couldn’t. As far as I know, the kid he was training wasn’t even aware I was aboard.
