“That’s what seaplanes do,” he answers.
The flight was much longer than I expected it to be. We stopped once to refuel and for Keller to stretch. I was asleep when we landed, so I have no recollection of the event. We shared some snacks and didn’t discuss the reason we were running. We kept conversation light and fun. But now that we’re approaching the midnight water beneath us, I’m freaking out.
“How can you see?”
“We’ve already done this once. Why are you freaking out now?” he asks, his eyes fixed ahead.
“Because it’s super dark now, the water looks choppy, and I was asleep then.”
“It’s fine,” he says as he brings us closer and closer.
I close my eyes, grip the handle next to me, and as we bump against the water, a little shriek passes my lips before we are solidly floating in the ocean. Unharmed.
“Are we there?”
“Yes,” he says, moving the plane close to the shore just as a light flashes toward us.
“What’s that?” I ask, glancing out the window.
“I don’t know,” he answers. “But stay here and stay low.” He pulls his gun out and opens the door to his side.
“Wait, you can’t just leave me in the floating plane.” I grab at him, but he’s out before I can stop him. “Keller,” I whisper-shout, but he doesn’t stop. He moves along the plane, and I catch him, rope in hand, hop to the rocks where he ties the rope into a knot around a boulder.
Okay, so I won’t float away, but still . . .
He crawls up the rocks, staying low and holding his gun out. The light flashes again, and fear creeps up my back.
This isn’t hot anymore. This is scary. I don’t want him getting shot, hurt, or taken again.
I duck down low but also lift just enough to see through the window. Keller starts army-crawling against the grass, the light becomes brighter, closer. It flashes up to my window, and I screech while ducking. Oh God, did the person see me?
I remain hidden just as I hear voices.
Please don’t be killers, please don’t be killers.
Footsteps approach, the light shines on the plane . . .
Where’s Keller?
And then . . .
“Jesus fucking Christ,” a booming voice says. A voice I know. “Keller, you scared the shit out of me.”
Is that Ottar?
I poke my head up, and sure enough, Ottar and Lara are standing by the rocks, Keller now beside them.
“Just making sure it wasn’t someone else,” Keller says, and I watch as Ottar pulls him into a hug.
Feeling that it’s safe, I open my plane door just as Ottar says, “Fuck, man. How are you?”
“Good,” he answers, then I watch Lara pull him into a hug, her head pressing against his chest. Keller wraps his arms tightly around her, and they stay like that for a few more seconds. When they pull away, Lara punches Keller in the chest. Keller rubs his chest. “What the hell is that for?”
“Scaring me. Worrying me. Making me care far too much about your stupid ass.”
Keller chuckles, then walks up to the plane. He sticks his gun in the waistband of his pants and says, “Grab my bag for me, love.”
How can he possibly be so calm? Sheesh.
