“And you, ma’am?”
“I’m with my fiancé.” She hoisted her engagement ring a defiant inch from the visor.
“Papers.”
Annette sourly handed over their betrothal agreement which the BT studied, never raising his mask. He handed it back and stared a little longer at Puppy.
He held his breath. Similar physique, just a shade different coloring than Elias. Who’d expect the assassin of Grandma to calmly walk into a BT base?
The Black Top lifted its visor; Annette gasped slightly. The ‘bot’s pale veiny face surrounded large, blue metallic eyes circling clockwise and counter-clockwise. Silver lips pursed intently, flaring the thin, sharp nose, deliberating for an agonizing few seconds.
The BT returned the papers. “Cargo plane’s to the left, Commissioner. Gate 1A.”
Annette gave the ‘bot a last frightened look as they turned down a corridor.
“It had a face, Puppy,” she whispered.
He waited for a squad of BTs to pass with brief salutes. Millions, Cheng had promised. Puppy looked at the swarm of Black Tops and shivered.
An impatient A39 with a thick furry hat scowled as they climbed the steps into the stripped down Mohawk 205, giving their IDs a diffident glance.
“I gotta schedule here. Hurry up. Buckle in.”
The faceless ‘bot waited until they navigated around four burlap sacks and strapped into raggedy jump seats, then grumbled at his watch and disappeared into the cockpit. The plane bounced down the runway and rose shakily into the air.
“Is it going to be like this all the way?” Annette was pale.
“I hope not.”
Neither of them had ever flown. Like obedient children, they sat quietly, desperate to pee, seriously considering vomiting, until the ‘bot returned and yanked off its hat, grinning meanly.
“First-timers, huh?”
Annette nodded. “I really have to go to the bathroom.”
“Who’s stopping you?” He grumpily pushed aside Annette’s fumbling fingers and undid the belt; she lurched into the bathroom holding her mouth. The ‘bot frowned. “She better clean up.”
Puppy smiled over Annette’s loud retching. “How long’s the flight?”
“Five hours.” The ‘bot held up its hand. “I been delivering the mail for thirty years. Never had a problem.”
Puppy frowned. “Mail?”
“What the hell did you think was in there?” The ‘bot’s eyes rotated angrily as Annette heaved again. “What kind of supervisor are you?”
“A badly informed one.” Puppy managed a weak smile. “So Americans can write to people in Muslim Europe?”
The ‘bot looked like its head was about to blow up, aggravated by Annette stumbling back into her seat, head between her legs, moaning.
“Why not? Grandma insisted it be part of the truce. You really don’t know nothing, do you?”
Puppy shrugged and rubbed Annette’s neck; she suddenly looked up at the ‘bot, horrified.
“Who’s flying the plane?”
“It’s on automatic. Don’t worry,” it snarled as Annette’s forehead touched the cold floor. “Ain’t never crashed yet.”
They heard the ‘bot chuckling in the cockpit over that one for a while. Slowly Annette sat up.
“How are you not sick?” she asked wonderingly.
“The power of being a Third Cousin.” Puppy pulled a bag over. “You got a blade?”
“If I did, I would’ve cut my throat already.”
Puppy tugged on the bag, but it was tied too tightly.
“It’s private mail, Puppy.” With an exasperated sigh, Annette slid a thin finger into the knot and together they yanked open the bag.
“What if it catches us?”
“I guess we learn to parachute.”
Puppy draped his jacket over her shivering body and opened a letter addressed to PFC Karen Bishop.
“It’s to a soldier,” he said. Annette wanly rested her chin on his shoulder, reading along.
“’Dearest Karen, Everyone is fine here. Gramps is recovering from that scare with his heart. Too much chocolate cake I say. Regina’s going to farming school up in Waukuh. Hope they’re treating you well. Love, Dad.’”
Annette reached into the bag and opened an envelope addressed to Lt. T’hom W’ashington. A photo fell onto her lap. She read softly, “’My T’hom, Jonas had a wonderful birthday. He got a ton of presents. Let me know if the sweater fits. Love ‘J’ames.’”
They studied the photo of a little boy with dark curly hair and sad eyes. Puppy pulled out a handful of envelopes. “All to soldiers.”
Annette frowned helplessly at the filthy floor and carefully joined him on her hands and knees, tossing aside more envelopes. “We don’t have soldiers in ME anymore, do we?”
“Not with guns.” He thought a second and ripped open a few more letters, reading quickly. “All these letters are like the soldiers are still on duty. Shit, Annette. Shit. They must be POWs.”
“Weren’t they all returned after the war?”
“Guess not.”
“How much did Grandma forget to tell us, Puppy?”
He was too exhausted to consider that. They fell asleep in each other’s arms for a few hours, woken by the clattering of a metal dish dropped at their feet.
“We land in half an hour.” The ‘bot shuffled back into the cockpit.
They about inhaled the powdered eggs and dry toast, strapping back in as the cargo plane drifted over the brown and green English countryside, decay clearly winning. Wilted crops guarded crumbling farmhouses, sleek trucks and cars indifferently whizzing past on wide, modern highways as if on two disconnected worlds.
The plane skirted a broad billboard where a menacing Allah pointed a sword at a helpless woman, his words lost in the language, though not the meaning.
Annette shuddered and pressed into Puppy.
Ahead lay a long field nestled between brown trees. Landing gear reluctantly groaned and they touched down with several big bounces before taxiing to a halt. The side door opened and the ‘bot tossed the bags outside, scrambling down the ladder to hoist four new identical bags back into the hull.
“Whatcha waiting for?” he snapped. “Get out, unless you’re coming back with me.”
Puppy peered past him at the tree line. “Here?”
“Same as always. They don’t like when I stay.”
“Who’s they?” Annette buttoned her coat.
The ‘bot shook its head pityingly and handed them a clipboard. “Hope the flight was in order. I’d appreciate getting a rating. I got a perfect record.”
Puppy scrawled a quick note about the comfort of the ride and hopped down, reaching up for Annette.
The ‘bot smiled, pleased
