Page 30 of Mayflower

Archer is nervous. Oh, shit. Even Mr. Ortiz and Chase Bishop are tense while Archer gives clearance for the airfield. And the full realization of what is about to happen finally hits me with a mild panic attack.

I take deep breaths and flex my fingers to calm myself.

“Three military Apache helicopters, a Sikorsky, and a Cobra,” Archer’s eyes are locked with Mr. Ortiz’s as he repeats on the phone the aircrafts that are asking for the clearance to land. “Apaches are what? Landing on the nearby island?”

“Tasriuk bought that,” Mr. Ortiz mouths, reminding him.

“Got it.” Archer nods and hangs up, then looks at me and exhales.

Wait, wait, wait… Yeah… Oh, wow… I thought I would be nervous, and I am, but everyone seems to be silently freaking out. Sure, they heard about Tsariuk. Sure, I knew my dad’s extent of power two years ago. The Change probably made him richer than before. And I kind of enjoy seeing these powerful men steel their spines at the fact that my dad is going to land here soon.

Another message beeps on my phone.

Dad: Any good food on that island of yours?

I tell him the restaurants are closed except for one small joint run by one of the residents. But I cooked. Yeah, guilty. I cooked Dad’s favorite dishes—roasted chicken with garlic, cold beet soup, Russian salad. I feel silly, even stupid for doing that, but despite our differences, my heart jumps out of my chest in excitement.

This nerve-wrecking scenario doesn’t change a bit. In fact, it gets worse when Archer and I and several guards arrive at the airport and stand by the ATVs on the side of the airstrip, listening to the distant sound of the helicopters. I feel like I’m about to jump out of my shoes. My legs are jelly from nervousness.

I asked Dad if it was safe for him to come, considering the last helicopter to leave was blown up.

“I asked a friend from the US to give me some protection,” he explained with his usual nonchalance.

“What does that mean?”

“Mila, sweetheart, leave it to me.”

As we stand at the airfield surrounded by the jungle and watch the sunny skies for signs of the helicopters, their humming in the distance turns into a roar.

The three military Apaches, with men hanging off with guns and rockets attached, fly over the airfield in circles like angry bees. Those are the deadliest helicopters with the largest shooting power.

Archer leans to me. “Apparently, your father got the US military to escort him here.”

“How?” I pretend that I don’t know.

“One of his friends, Senator Knowles, worked with my father back in the day.”

No surprise.

Then the roar gets even louder as two more helicopters enter the sky above us. One of them is a spider-looking Cobra—Dad had that one back in my day. Another is a Sikorsky, one of the largest helicopters ever created. One of Dad’s hobbies is investing into technology and obsessing over vehicles—cars or aircrafts or yachts.

The two helicopters hover over the airfield, making my hair fly everywhere, all of us squinting at the sky, shielding our eyes from the wind. When they land, the Apaches hovering above take off and disappear behind Zion’s mountaintop.

The helicopters kill the engine, but the palm trees still swing in the air as if the helicopters brought a storm with them.

Men, about twenty of them, pile out of the Sikorsky. Dark military getup, sunglasses, guns in their hands.

While a dozen of them line up in front of the Cobra, facing us, like a shield, the others approach the Cobra and lower their guns.

“Well, shit,” Archer murmurs, his hands clasped tight in front of him. “It looks like we are prisoners on our own island.”

I smile nervously. “We are fine. Just go along with it.” Though my entire body is so tense I feel like I’m going to pass out.

The Cobra opens, and a ladder shifts down. Two strangers in suits and ties disembark and halt to a stop at the bottom. My father follows.

Dad…

I bite my lower lip, trying not to smile, though I never thought I’d be so excited to see him.

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