Hell Bent

“We’re going to England, Annabelle. Today.” Jack told her, speaking slowly and softly. He was having trouble making eye contact with her. Instead, he looked at the wooden slats in the floor and, again with the nervous gesture, ran a hand through his blonde waves.

Annabelle swallowed almost as audibly as Craig had. “Jack, I don’t fly. You know that.” She swallowed again, though it was getting hard to with how dry her mouth had gone. “I made a once-in-a-life-time exception to come here because it was necessary. This is where Columbia is. This is where Craig Brandt is.” She glanced at Craig, nodding in reference. He hesitantly nodded back. “But there’s no way in hell that I’ll get on a plane to go to England.” She wanted to make herself very clear on this point.

She steadily stared up at him. Finally, he met her eyes once more. His expression was inscrutable.

She hadn’t missed the fact that he’d used her whole name when he’d addressed her about this. He only did that when his emotions were really strong. He was determined in this and that really scared her.

He pulled his gaze away from hers then and looked over her shoulder. Something flickered in their blue depths.

Annabelle spun around to see that he was looking at Sam. Who had silently made his way to the archway leading out of the cabin and was standing in front of it, blocking the exit.

What the hell?

“Anna, try to think about the fact that you finally get to visit England,” Cassie made her way across the cabin to put a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Hell, I’m actually really glad that I have to go with you because I sure as shit want to see England! We can try to get Sean Bean’s autograph!”

“I know you’ve always wanted to go,” Dylan offered next, shooting a slightly resentful look toward Jack as he continued, in as supportive a tone as he could muster. “You’re always telling me you want to see Yorkshire.”

“It’s not the destination, Dylan,” Annabelle told him. She tried to breathe evenly as she went on. “It’s the trip.” She was seething with anger at Jack at that moment. And, frankly, none of these people were helping. She wasn’t getting on another plane; that was a given. Especially a plane that planned to cross water. But, what pissed her off the most was the fact that Jack had just decided, without consulting her in the least, that she was going to yet again face her worst fear so that she could leave her country to go visit another one that very day! Where the hell did he get off?

“Not to worry, luv,” Beatrice chimed in. She was digging around in her large purse again. “I’ve got a fresh supply of bevvy that can get us aled up ri’ proper.” She grinned widely as she pulled out an un-opened bottle of Jose Cuervo. “’Ere we are! We’ll be just fine then, won’t we?”

“Cor, Miss Drake, you’re goin’ about this all wrong, eh?” Clara said then, drawing Annabelle’s attention from Beatrice. “It’s like when you know the big bloke in the play yard wants to clobber your brains out. You don’t let ‘im smell your fear, do you? Nah, you let ‘im know you think he’s go’ a tiny wanker, you do! Teach ‘im you’re no’ a coward!”

Annabelle’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. “Clara! You do not tell an airplane you’re about to get on that it has a small penis! It’ll just get pissed off at you and want to get even!”

Across the cabin, Sam’s tall form began to shake with silent laughter.

Annabelle ignored him. “It’ll go Kamikaze on us and drop out of the sky like a rock just for the chance to hear us all scream before we hit the ground!”

Cassie blinked beside her and then bit her lips to keep from smiling. She cocked her head to one side, as if considering Annabelle’s words. Then she nodded once and said, “Well, I guess you never know. Planes could have feelings-”

“Absolutely!” Virginia piped up, helpfully. “In fact, the Native Americans have long believed in animism.” She was animated, herself now, gesturing with her hands as she spoke. “It’s something children seem to know instinctively – that all things in the universe have sentience – but that we forget as we grow older-”

Annabelle didn’t have a chance to catch the rest of Virginia’s mini-lecture on the souls of inanimate objects, because it was at that moment that Jack wrapped his left arm around her upper body, pinning her tightly as he inserted a needle through her sleeve and into her right arm.

Not having expected it, she barely felt the sting. But whatever it was he gave her worked quickly. Her legs gave out and she fell into Jack’s supportive arms. Her world went black in the space of two very short seconds.

Annabelle was running, but no matter how hard she pushed, her legs would only go so fast. Or slow. They moved like bendy straws through frozen molasses, threatening to break under the pressure she was exerting upon them.

But she needed to move. She desperately needed to get away, because the plane was skating along the frozen water, rushing toward her, flames shooting out of its windows. It was screaming as it skidded along the ice, issuing forth an ear-splitting noise like a banshee or a jet engine.

Horrible. Loud.

Up ahead, a crack in the ice spread out before her. It formed a hole, leading to dark, frigid waters below. They were a sapphire blue, endless and familiar. She moved toward the hole, knowing that the plunge would hurt, but would probably save her life.

Behind her, the air grew hot. It grew very hot. The back of her neck tingled with the lick of flames. She hissed in a breath and her heart pounded hard in her chest. The heels of her feet grew hot in her boots and they began to slide on the melting ice.

The plane was only a few yards behind her.

Her right glove caught fire as it moved behind her in a running swing. She hugged the hand to her chest, but the fire didn’t go out. It spread to her left glove and the flames ate through the tips of the gloves to reach her fingers within.

A warmth became a heat, searing her fingernails off. She screamed.

Only a few more feet to the water.

Only a few more steps.

Fire edged into her vision on her left, and wrapped around her on her right. She was being hugged by it, embraced by the death behind her. Her hair caught on fire; she could smell it. Only it smelled like burning oil. Maybe it was the plane.

The scream became a mixture of many screams. Voices raised in agony – and fear.

She jumped.

When she hit the water, it wasn’t cold. It was warm. She sank down into it, wrapped in softness, wrapped in comfort. She sank more than a mile down, without having to take a breath.

She sank several miles and her boots touched the bottom.

She looked down at her hands. They were healed. Her clothes were intact.

She looked around her. The blue stretched on forever. Warm and dark.

Behind her, the water shifted, budging her forward in a small after-wave. She slowly turned around. The plane had melted ice above her and fallen through. It was now sinking through the water. She watched it, several yards away, leaving a trail of ice blue water behind it.

A vapor trail of cold and engine oil traced its way to the surface of the water, so very, very far up.

Chapter Thirty-two

“What the hell were you thinking, Jack?” Annabelle paced the distance in front of the bed in the small room. “You could have killed me or something! How do you know I wasn’t allergic to whatever you gave me? I could have died in my sleep-”

Jack cut her off before she could continue, his voice raised an octave, his temper held carefully in check. “Bella! Come to your senses. I wouldn’t give you something that could harm you; you must know that by now.” He shook his head, taking a deep breath to calm himself as he folded his jacket and placed it within his black bag. “Not so long as I drew breath, Bella, would I ever hurt you.” He turned away from her and continued working. The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the metallic sound of gun pieces clicking against one another as Jack reassembled his weapons. Where the hell had he put his bloody bullets?

That afternoon, Annabelle had awoken, groggily and a tad queasy, to find herself tucked beneath a thick, soft blanket in an unfamiliar, if very nicely appointed room. Her vision had cleared upon wooden beams in the ceiling and