THE HELICOPTER LIFTED us into the air, leaving behind just a handful of men to face the darkness. I had read no sense of regret in Rick’s mind and seen no fear in his eyes. He was strong to the end. I could feel the others weakening, though, and I could hear the gunfire and unearthly shrieks even over the loud blades of the chopper as we made for the horizon, until finally we were too far to hear the sounds of battle.
The little girl beside me, dressed in nineteenth-century nightclothes, carried a doll with a glazed porcelain head and a sawdust body dressed in multiple petticoats and a high-neck silk dress. She was thinking about the battle we’d left behind and the amazing fact that we were flying in a large metal whirligig, but she did not seem frightened. A strange power radiated from within her; she was unique. Her name was Hope.
We flew for a few hours. The pilot had informed us that we would be touching down soon. Aside from that, no one spoke. Finally, the helicopter hovered over a helipad and slowly descended atop a three-story building, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Moments after we landed, a man in military uniform opened the helicopter’s door and motioned for us to exit. I unbuckled the girl and carried her off the helicopter, following the soldier inside the building.
There we were met by a young woman in a tan suit. “You’ve done well,” she said to me. She stood in the doorway of what looked like a training area. I said nothing. “You will be employed as our specialist. You have proven yourself to be strong and resilient. You will be trained to unlock your full potential.” I knew what she had in mind and that I was not being given a choice. The girl was taken from me. She, too, would undergo training. Perhaps some good would come out of it somehow…
Part II
The Beckoning