“Only if they’re suicidal.”
“I didn’t get that impression.”
“Neither did I.”
“Then they find somewhere to wait it out, I guess,” Stone asked.
Ed grimaced, thinking. “We don’t know how they got here, so it’s also possible they could have flown in.”
“I wouldn’t fly in this weather, and I have a lot of hours under my belt.”
“Would you rather fly or take a boat?”
“If I had to choose one, I guess I’d fly, but only at gunpoint.”
“Which they’re kind of at right now,” Ed said.
Stone headed north, and soon they reached the island’s small airport.
“Isn’t that the Woodie station wagon?” Ed asked, pointing toward the apron.
“It is,” Stone said, surprised. “Wait. Where’s my plane?”
“Where did you leave it?”
“Right next to where the Woodie is.”
He drove over and parked next to the station wagon.
After he shut off the engine, he cocked his head. “Do you hear that?”
Ed listened. “That sounds like…”
“An airplane prop,” Stone finished.
He glanced at the far end of the runway but couldn’t make anything out.
“Here,” Ed said, handing him the Winchester.
Stone raised the rifle and pointed the scope in the direction of the noise.
“They’re stealing my plane!”
The sound of the prop increased in preparation for taking off.
“Give me that,” Ed said, taking the rifle back.
He jumped out of the car and ran to a clear spot on the apron.
Stone stared at him for a moment, then chased after him. “What are you planning to do?”
“What do you think? I’m going to try to stop them.”
“But that’s my plane!” Stone argued.
“If they get away, Felicity may never get the chance to end the threat to her. And I guarantee you won’t see your plane again, either.”
“But…but…”
