“The fact is, I’m in charge, whether you like it or not,” Imogen said, bristling. She’d never liked Alan, and he despised her. They tolerated each other most of the time, and he followed her orders with grumbling reluctance, but the current crisis had them at each other’s throats.
“The only reason you got this job is because you’re the mayor’s daughter, even though you’re barely out of diapers yet,” Alan said, taking a deep swig of his coffee.
His nails sported black crescents, stained by the oil that was ingrained into the fiber of his skin. Like Lee, he was an aviation mechanic. Unlike Lee, he never washed and always smelled of sweat and grease, an unpleasant combination.
She wrinkled her nose when a waft of perspiration from his armpits hit her nostrils. “Good God, take a bath, would you?”
“This is what you smell like when you work for a living,” he replied, tossing the rest of his coffee down the drain. He walked toward the exit without a backward glance. “You should try it sometime.”
Imogen turned back to the map with a sigh of relief once he left. As much as she clashed with Alan, she also understood him. At forty-plus years, he’d spent his entire life working for a boss. His skill secured him an excellent job, especially after the Shift, and he lived a comfortable life. He believed that the only work worth doing was the kind you did with your hands. He wasn’t an academic and viewed such people with suspicion. Their obsession with learning struck him as frivolous.
Appointing her as the leader of the mission was the ultimate insult. She was both young and learned, plus she had the right connections. What Alan didn’t know was that she’d asked for the post. No, begged for it. Her mother wanted her to go into politics, or perhaps the sciences. She certainly didn’t want her only daughter gallivanting about in the wilds. But I want more than that. I need more than that.
It was unfortunate that the current situation would likely scupper her chances of coming back for a renewed term. Her mother would use the loss of a plane and three of their best members to pull the plug and force Imogen to return home.
“Over my dead body,” Imogen said, glaring at the board with fresh determination. Giving up was not an option. Not when it meant a lifetime of suffocation. A slow march toward death with no freedom or will to call her own. Besides, the lives of her friends were at stake, not just her own existence.
A low drone caused her to glance through the window. Bright sunlight and clear blue skies met her gaze. It was a good day to fly. Visibility was exceptional, and she hoped the search party had found something this time. Anything.
She watched as a Cessna-152 approached on the horizon. The small plane touched down on the tarmac, bouncing across the gravel-filled potholes until it slowed to a stop. A two-seater, the plane had a range of roughly four-hundred and seventy miles.
The Cessna taxied toward a waiting hanger, and she spotted Allen slouching after it. He’d check the engine and refuel the plane in readiness for its next flight. It was the one thing she could count on him doing. He was good at his job, despite his other flaws.
The hanger was small, barely large enough to accommodate their three planes: A Piper Malibu, a Cessna-172, and a Cessna-152. The Piper Malibu was missing, though. Lost along with its crew.
Besides the hanger and runway, the only other buildings were the lookout tower and living quarters. She’d converted the tower’s ground floor into an office, a working space meant for meetings and planning. Their living quarters used to be the old offices now turned into a living space for the crew members, and a tall wire fence surrounded the property.
As the leader of the expedition, Imogen had used her clout with her mother to ensure they lacked for nothing, including security. A team of workers repaired the buildings, fortified the windows and doors, installed solar panels, batteries, and a generator. A well pumped water into gravity-fed tanks. Their storerooms overflowed with supplies, and they had a well-equipped emergency room.
It was too bad people like Allen didn’t appreciate her efforts, but she dismissed her thoughts for the moment. The results of the latest search were more important than her feud with the grumpy mechanic.
Too impatient to wait, she stepped outside into the bright sunlight. With one hand shading her eyes, she watched as Casey and Ralph exited the hanger.
Ralph detoured toward the living quarters while Casey, the pilot, made a beeline for the office. Her short hair was as white as snow, contrasting with her tanned skin. Short and slim, she was stronger than she looked and brooked no nonsense from anyone, even Allen.
“How did it go?” Imogen asked.
“I’m sorry, but we found nothing,” Casey said with a shake of her head. Her shoulders drooped, and her expression was somber. “I wanted to stay out longer, but the tank was running low.”
“I was really hoping this time would be different,” Imogen said, despair weighing her down.
“Me too.”
Imogen whirled around and walked back into the office. “Show me where you looked. I need to mark it down and map out a new search area.”
“Of course,” Casey said, following her into the office. She pointed at several spots on the map with swift precision, all to the south and southeast of Kalama. “We searched these cities and the surrounding areas. There are no signs of human life, and no sign of the missing plane either.”
“What about the wilds?” Imogen asked.
“We crossed over this chunk of land here, but most of it’s covered in water. If they crashed out there, they’re…” Casey trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.
“They’re lost. I get it,” Imogen said, knowing well what it looked like. She’d seen the vast inland seas that covered swathes of North America.
When the Shift
