Death of Innocence
Day 30
Aloft, over the Northeast, December 2013
"This is your Captain speaking. Please raise your seats into the upright position as we prepare to land. Thank you for flying with us today. The weather in New York is cold and dry, at 45 degrees. Please enjoy your stay in the City that never sleeps."
Reese watched the action in the aisles and seats ahead. Fusco had ended up near the front of the plane, while he'd scored one of the last seats in the back. It wasn't quite the pre-Christmas rush yet, but soon the seats'd be full on every flight in.
He thought about what was ahead.
Root'd been the one to alert them, Fusco first. That was strange on its own. But once they'd heard what'd happened, it made some sense. Finch and Shaw were busy with a number – turns out, someone Finch knew. Too many people were looking for him.
Vigilance had shown up, and Shaw had gotten them out of that one. But somehow, they'd ended up in a bank, downtown after that. And not just Vigilance, this time. More people looking. A full-on attack going on.
Finch had holed up in the bank vault. Shaw was there, somewhere. The 'number' was in with Finch, in the vault. And maybe the Bank Manager, too. Wasn't really clear yet. But outside, plenty of people waiting for Finch and his number.
Nobody knew where Root was. Didn't answer her phone. More to that story, he was sure – but didn't need to focus on that now. Had enough to deal with, with Finch and friends.
Reese shifted around in his seat. He'd left Colorado with borrowed clothes – Chase to the rescue again. But he's a bigger guy, and Reese was swimming in his stuff. He'd had to drop everything and run – but he'd make it up to him, after. Hadn't given him an answer yet – whether to close up the cabin again or not. Depended on what happened next.
They felt the plane descending, and the ground rushing up to meet them. Cold and clear today in New York. Could see all the sights going by, then out and around over the Island. Lower. Lower.
The grind of the wheels dropping, and the drag on their speed, after that. Tipping then, and sliding through the air in the turn. Couldn't see the runway from back in his seat, but he closed his eyes and felt the drop, slower and lower. A silence fell over the cabin – as they all waited in their seats.
Tiny screech as the wheels touched, and then the dip in the front, as the wheel up there touched down. Barely a ripple. Barreling down the runway, and then the brakes coming on, with gusto. Lurched forward in their seats, and then the rattle of the plane, shaking itself along. Braking…braking. 'Til it was slow enough to drive. They made their way through the taxi lanes, and off the runway.
Instructions overhead. Seatbelts clicking off, and the rustle of people getting ready to leave.
New York. He could see it out his window.
Not what he'd wanted.
"Not much longer," he whispered. Last time for this.
No more throwing someone over a shoulder and dragging them out. Too beat up. Time to stop.
Fusco was waiting for him at the end of the ramp. Both moving kinda slow – even with Finch and friends waiting for them.
No new update from Root. Have to deal with that later. Finch was the priority.
They'd have to bust in the best they could and get him out. Nothing elegant about this one. Smash and grab all the way.
And when it was over, it's over, he thought. Done.
Finch's words from another time dropped into his head. Caught his feeling at the moment: "It's okay just to say, 'I'm not okay'." Almost smiled.
Fusco looked closer at him. "You okay, Reese?"
He turned away.
"It's okay to say, 'I'm not okay', he said. Fusco smirked after him. Losing his marbles...