Song: Rivers and Roads by The Head And The Heart
***
My hair is all in my face as we fall impossibly farther. I scream at the top of my lungs, convinced that this will be how I die.
We land on the jet with a thud, Mitchell catching most of my body weight. His ankle makes a sickening cracking noise as we land on the jet. Blowing whisps of hair out of my face, I hoist him up from under his armpits.
We made it. We did it.
The woman by the hatch motions us over, and we move as quickly as we dare on a hovering jet. I try not to look down, not to think about how high up we are. The jet wobbles unsteadily beneath our weight, and I try to walk lighter.
The wind whips my hair this way and that, pushing my body as I creep along the wing of the jet towards the hatch. Keeping my arms tight at my sides, I try to make myself smaller.
The woman steps down the hatch to allow us in. Mitchell sends me first and I maneuver down the steel ladder. He follows close behind, leaving the hatch open behind him. After we're both down the ladder, the hatch woman climbs back up.
The jet is one large room with a few tables and benches. It looks like it could house over one hundred people. All silvery steel and very militaristic.
Several thuds. About twenty more people flood into the enormous jet. "That's all," a man says, and I hear the hatch shut, metal grinding on metal. My body gently lurches forward as the jet takes off.
The men all sit down immediately, collapsing from exhaustion. A man sets a body beside him, and I catch just a glimpse of Eleanor's face before the man covers her with a long blanket. Mitchell saunters over to an empty bench in the corner, sitting down.
"Where are we going?" I ask one of the men, who's gulping down water.
He wipes his mouth on his brown sleeve. "The base," he says, gasping for air.
I furrow my brow. "The base?"
Another man pipes up. "It's under the ocean. The Pacific, to be exact. Your families are already there."
I blink a few times. My mom is there. She's safe. She's alive. "A base. . . Under the ocean? For what?" I ask, my mind boggled.
"The base for the HDU," the man says. "The Hunter-Dasher Union."
I tilt my head. "What's that?"
"A group of people trying to do some good in the world," the man says with a friendly smirk.
My eyes widen. "You're the rebels," I gape, "aren't you? The ones trying to end the Hunter Mission?"
The man nods, tipping his hat. "That's right. And it was you two who inspired us," he says. I glance back to Mitchell, who momentarily glances at up before dropping his gaze to his shoes once more.
I place a shaky hand gently on my sternum. "Us?"
The man nods again. "That's right. You were the first Dasher. And Mitchell was the first Hunter who refused to do his job. In fact, he earned a nickname at the base: The Unhunter."
"Wow," I chuckle, "that's creative."
The man shrugs. "Well, we're not known for our creativity."
