Chapter 13: Wishful Thinking

This flight was lasting considerably longer than the first one had. Benton wondered if they were circling somewhere, trying to get lost in other air traffic. Jonny woke up after a while, and Benton gave him some of the food from the refrigerator. They played several rounds of poker while Bandit slept, his head on Jonny's knee.

"Have you tried the door, Dad?" Jonny asked abruptly when they'd been playing awhile.

"It's locked."

"But have you tried it?"

"No, Jonny, I haven't. I didn't see much point."

Jonny slid off the bed, and Benton reached out to catch his arm, but hesitated, remembering those dark bruises. Bandit sat up blearily and scratched his ear. Jonny slipped past and tried the door. It didn't budge.

Hitting the panel with a fist, Jonny turned around and leaned back against it. "I thought maybe we could get to a radio, maybe get a message to someone. If Race is on our trail, maybe we could call him."

"I don't think we dare risk it, Jonny."

Jonny glared at him, crossing his arms across his chest. "It's because of Crandall, isn't it?" he asked bitterly.

"It's not just that, Jonny. There are a lot of people out there, and we're on a plane."

"But if we can get a message out, Race could find us faster."

There was a click as the door's lock was drawn back, and Jonny scrambled back across the room, leaning up against Benton, an arm clutched around his shoulders. Benton put his arm around his son's waist and squeezed. Bandit started barking ferociously at the door, and Benton caught his collar to hold him back. Jonny would not take it well if someone kicked his dog.

When this was over, Jonny was going to be dreadfully embarrassed by his reactions. Benton hoped he'd be able to reassure the boy that there was nothing wrong with him or with his behavior during this crisis.

The door opened, and the medic came in. Bandit kept barking at her, and she threw the little dog an amused glance. "I thought I'd better check on you gentlemen, to see how you were faring."

Benton raised an eyebrow. "I think we're fine." He looked at Jonny. "I think Jonny could probably use some more naproxen, but besides that, we're –"

"We want to go home!" Jonny declared suddenly, standing up very straight. "You people are horrible and my father isn't going to do anything you want!"

"Jonny!" Benton exclaimed sotto voce. "Not now!"

"I'll go get the naproxen," the woman said, her face creasing in sympathy. She shut the door and locked it again.

Jonny was silent for a minute, then he flung himself back at the door and started pounding on it, yelling incoherently. Bandit leapt off the bed and stood up on his hind legs, barking madly. Benton stood up and wrapped his arms around his son, pulling him back over to the bed. Jonny's flailing stopped and he clung to his father. Benton stroked his hair, murmuring reassurances into his ear. He got him to sit down and Bandit jumped up onto the boy's lap, leaning against his chest. Jonny put one hand on the dog's head, sniffling.

A few moments later the medic returned with a small plastic cup of the sort hospitals use to give patients their pills. Benton took it, and she gave them both a worried look. He waved her out, and she left, but he could tell she was concerned. These people are psychotic, he thought.

After a time, he managed to get Jonny to take the pill, and his son looked up at him through red, teary eyes. "I'm pathetic," he said dejectedly. "I'm sorry, Dad, I don't know what's wrong with me." The swelling of his face made him look even more miserable.

Benton shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with you, Jonny," he said firmly, brushing the hair back out of his face. "Anyone would be reacting the same way."

"Hadji wouldn't!" Jonny said, not looking at him. Bandit sat up and licked away the tears that were streaming down Jonny's cheeks.

"He'd feel the same way you do, Jonny," Benton said. "There's nothing wrong with you, son."

"I want to go home!"

"Me, too."

"I miss Race and Jessie and Mrs. Evans, and especially Hadji."

Benton stroked his hair and said, "I know. I do, too."

Jonny scooped Bandit up and sat up next to his father, leaning close. Benton put his arms around him again and held him tightly, rocking a little. Bandit seemed to like being pressed in between them, but then he'd always liked to be cuddled.

"How long have we been in the air?" Jonny asked eventually.

"About six hours now," Benton replied. "I can't make any sense of our course without windows, but I think we've done a fair amount of circling. I get the feeling that they're trying to throw off pursuit."

"If Race is on our trail, they haven't got a chance," Jonny said.

Benton nodded, though there was a dubious voice niggling in his mind. They were rapidly closing on seventy-two hours since their initial capture, and the best hint that they had of pursuit was Crandall's half-paranoid ramblings about Race. The man was none too stable, and Benton found himself wondering if he wasn't just seizing on whatever excuse he could find to do damage to Jonny.

Martin had insisted that the corporation would take steps to deal with Crandall. He hoped Martin wasn't lying to him. Or indulging in wishful thinking.