The Matchmakers

Chapter 4

I don't know how long I've been out when Henry shakes me awake. He points to his tablet. On it is the world map, tracking our flight's progress. It doesn't look like we're headed to Basheart. He places the device on the seat between us, leans forward, and hits the communication button. When the light doesn't go on, he tries again.

I stare at him, frozen as I begin to feel panic rising in my gut. I force myself to take deep breaths. Henry catches my gaze and holds it while I pull myself together.

Trying to keep my voice steady, I ask, "What do we do?"

He doesn't answer me verbally, instead holding a finger to his lips and motioning me to stay seated. When I nod in understanding, he turns and keys a six-digit code into the panel that separates us from the cockpit. The buttons flash red and without missing a beat, Henry punches in a different code. This time, a green light flashes and the door begins to open before screeching to a halt.

"Let me in," Henry commands, his tone low.

The door opens to reveal our driver standing in the cockpit with a gun in his hand. "Don't step any closer."

"Put the weapon down," Henry says, remaining surprisingly calm. I stand up and the driver suddenly points the gun at me. I put my hands up and freeze, suddenly wishing I had stayed where I was.

Henry immediately moves to shield me, his eyes never straying from the gun.

Behind both men, I see the control board flying us on autopilot to some unknown destination. "Can we talk about this?" I ask.

"Rosemary," Henry snaps, sounding so much like my father when he gets impatient.

"Listen to your Match."

"Why do you say it like that? If you have a family, you obviously have a Match of your own."

"Not by choice," he grinds out.

"Enough," Henry snaps. Before I can react, he charges Malcolm from a side angle. They both fall onto the panel behind them. The craft suddenly tips and I yelp, latching onto a handle on the wall. Apparently, the safety gravity isn't working anymore. And with that realization, my panic rises to the next level.

Henry wrestles the gun from our driver's grip brings the butt of the gun down hard, knocking the man out cold. "There," he sighs, looking up at me.

As if on cue, the entire compartment pitches to the side again and I stumble into the door, accidentally opening it, causing a large draft to enter the car.

"Rosemary!" Henry exclaims, grabbing and pulling me away from the exit before I can fall over the edge. Hastily, he hits the button again and it closes.

The cabin tips again, this time the other way. "Can you fly this thing?" I gasp, tired of constantly waiting for the next gravity shift.

"I've been taking lessons for the past two years." Henry walks over the now limp body to enter the cockpit. I begin to follow, but he shakes his head at me. "Stay here and make sure he doesn't wake up."

I look down at our incapacitated driver and gulp. "Okay."

He begins manipulating the controls. The vehicle levels out after a moment and I feel us begin to turn. I breathe a sigh of relief and begin counting to ten, in hopes of getting rid of the giant knot in my stomach.

A pile of rope lands in my lap. I look up at Henry, but he's looking ahead. I'm about to ask when his voice comes over the intercom. "Tie hands behind his back. And bind his legs to the seat across from you."

"Done," I confirm after I've tied two square knots.

"Good. We should be there in half an hour. One last thing," he says, his voice tight. "Contact my parents—and yours, too. They should know what happened."