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"Stairway to Heaven"

There's a feeling I get

When I look to the west

And my spirit is crying for leaving

- Led Zeppelin

Joyce had never been on a plane before. She had never wanted to fly on a plane before. A big metal tube filled with people, suspended in the air by … nothing? She had no idea how a plane stayed in the air, and she didn't want to be on one when it decided to stop staying in the air.

But there was only one way to make it to Alaska by tomorrow and get this guy his money so he could save Hopper. So here she was on a plane, surrounded by people, sitting next to Murray, waiting for the thing to take off so it could get there and land already.

The people in front of her were smoking, and she wished she had a cigarette herself. She was trying to quit, because it seemed like the right thing to do, but having a cigarette would give her something to do with her hands, and would pass the time while the crew spent half of forever getting the plane ready.

Someone was speaking through the plane's sound system, but the voice was tinny and distorted, and Joyce couldn't concentrate enough to be sure what it was saying.

She turned to Murray, taking a deep breath. "Do you think I should have just told them?"

He didn't look up from his magazine, and Joyce shoved his shoulder to get him to pay attention.

"What? Told who?" he asked.

"The kids. About Hopper. It … it just felt so wrong to lie to them like that." And she'd done it so badly. If they hadn't been distracted by Mike's arrival, they would have seen right through her. The Britannicas. Of all the things.

"Mm. Right, right, right," Murray said. "Well … I'm not exactly an expert in parenting."

Joyce chuckled awkwardly along with him, thinking she wasn't exactly an expert, either, and wishing she'd done it better all along.

Murray continued, "But, for what little it's worth, I think you did the right thing. The responsible thing."

"Responsible." If Murray thought she'd been responsible, she must have screwed up badly.

"Your children, bless their mischievous souls … they like to get involved. This way, what? They play too much Nintendo, eat too much junk food, smoke some ganja, pound some beers, experiment sexually … I mean, really, what's the worst that can happen?"

She looked at him, horrified. Her children wouldn't do that kind of thing!

Would they?

Before she could say anything, the stewardess came by. "Excuse me. Ma'am? So sorry to interrupt, but you're going to need to fasten your seat belt."

Murray nodded and smiled. "Of course. Mm. Buckle up."

Joyce glared at him. "Like this is really going to save me if we crash."

The plane took off at last. Murray returned to his magazine, and Joyce returned to fidgeting and worrying.

On the other side of the world, Hopper was working on the chain gang in the freshly falling snow. It was bitterly cold, just like it had been every other day in Siberia.

He paused for a moment, taking a breath, looking around him. As he did so, Antonov came up behind him, speaking in Russian. "What is this, American? What is taking you so long? Are you tired today?"

"Pig," Hopper answered, also in Russian.

"What do you say?"

"Asshole!" He spat on the ground at Antonov's feet for good measure.

As expected, this made Antonov grab him and pull him off the line, dragging him behind a pile of wood for a 'beating'. Antonov smiled, speaking in English now. "Your Russian is getting better. So is your acting."

"All right," Hopper demanded. "Come on, what is it?"

Antonov looked around them. They were alone. Lowering his voice, he said, "I bring news from America."

Hopper's heart leaped inside his chest. He had never really believed this would work. He still wasn't sure he did. But he couldn't help the hope that rose in him at the guard's words.

"I heard from your friends. They're bringing your money to Alaska."

His jaw dropped. "When?"

"Today, I hope. If my pilot gets the money, he will bring it to me in his plane tomorrow. Then you can hitch a ride with him back to your country. I get rich, and you're a free man."

Just as they had planned. It was a good plan. It made sense. It sounded—it sounded like heaven. It also sounded too good to be true.

Antonov echoed his thoughts. "Sound too good to be true, yes?"

"It does. This pilot you found, you sure you can trust him?"

"His name is Yuri Ismaylov. He's a smuggler. Supplies American goods to some of us guards here, including me on lucky occasions. Cigarettes, peanut butter, Playboys … the best America has to offer."

"Great. So he's a criminal."

"Of course. Who else do you want to do this job? Gandhi?" Antonov laughed. "You're worried about your woman, is that it? I can see why you like her, American. When I talked to her, I can tell by voice that she's very pretty. Feisty, too. I like that. Shame we won't meet."

Hopper's head snapped up. Antonov had talked to Joyce. He had talked to her yesterday. God, what Hopper would do to be able to talk to her right now. But now that she was involved, too good to be true started to sound like more of a risk than it had been worth. If something happened to Joyce, if she got hurt because Hopper had allowed himself to dream of things he shouldn't have … "You promised me that she would be safe."

"And she will be. Let me handle Yuri. You have more important things to worry about. Remember: You miss that plane tomorrow, I am still rich, and you're still stuck in Kamchatka. So whatever it is you're planning, American, best get to it, yes?"

Before Hopper could reply, the little weasel-faced guard who had been taking an ever-greater interest in him in recent days came around the corner of the wood piles. "Antonov! Finish with your American toy, we need him on the tracks."

"Yes, yes," Antonov replied in Russian. "I am just putting him in his place."

Weasel-face spat on the ground and walked off.

"Nosy bastard." He smiled at Hopper, asking in English, "Where do you want it?"

Hopper pointed at his cheek, and Antonov punched him before dragging him back to the line.

It was hard to resume his work like everything was normal. Joyce was on her way to Alaska. If Hopper wanted to be on his way there, too, he had to get started on his plan, and hope that it worked as well in the real world as it did in his head.