Page 51 of Aviatrix

“Captain Quay?” the woman who greeted me at landing calls down the corridor. “There’s a phone call for you.”

My stomach knots. It has to be Lark.

Eli raises an eyebrow, then disappears inside the room without a word.

I follow the woman down the cold, barely-lit hallway to a small, nondescript office. There’s a rusted name plate on the door. In memory of… someone. I don’t bother to keep reading. Brown desk. Black swivel chair with a rip in the vinyl, yellow foam spilling out like a wound. A single phone rests on the coffee-mug-stained surface.

I sit. Inhale. Pick up the receiver.

“This is Captain Quay.”

“Kin,” Lark’s voice comes through, clear but weighted. “Dad’s gone.”

I swallow hard. “I know. I saw the news.”

He exhales, and I hear the fatigue in it. “I can’t find Amber. She wasn’t in the White House when it was hit. Data shows her key card leaving almost an hour before the blast, but now comms are unreliable, and no one’s seen her.”

For the first time all day, I breathe a small sigh of relief. She wasn't in the White House when it was attacked. I want to believe she’s safe. But that logged data doesn’t mean she’s alive.

“Does she have an apartment? Friends she could be with?”

“I don’t know,” he says, and I can tell he’s fraying at the edges.

I should offer to help. Should tell him I’m on my way. But…

If I go to Lark, I might find comfort. If I stay… I might find the truth.

I have to stay. I have to find out who the Legion is.

Duty.

I choose duty.

“I know you’ll find her,” I say firmly. “She’s out there, Lark. She’s smart. She’s resourceful. She’s alive.”

“I hope so, Kin.” A sharp inhale. “I really hope so.”

“I’m sorry about your dad,” I offer quietly.

He doesn’t answer right away. I imagine him somewhere dark and lonely, struggling not to unravel. But this is Lark. His relationship with Wingard was strained, diplomatic at best.

“It’s okay,” he says finally. “I knew when he took office… it was always a possibility.”

“You’ll be careful?”

“I’ll be careful, Kin.” A pause. “I love you. I love you so much.”

I want to say it back. I really do.

But I can’t.

“Go find your daughter,” I whisper.

“Goodnight.”

“Night, Lark.”

I hang up and drop my head into my hands.