Defector

I hate admitting that I've allowed these people to have some sort of hold on me. I trust them as far as I can spit, even though one of them is Logan's mother. Somehow that makes it worse. Though my trust is thin, I still board the private jet behind Ernest and buckle myself to the tan leather seat.

Ernest sits across from me, studying me like there will be a quiz. I raise an eyebrow at him and eye him up and down. Age is catching up with him. Wrinkles form along his face, especially around his dark eyes. His hair which is so thin that I'm not sure what colour it really is. His face is full, but he has a strong jawline making it appear almost square. He's a hefty man, but I feel it's mostly muscle which he conceals in his pantsuits.

The corner of his mouth rises ever so slightly. If I would have blinked, I would have missed it. As though my gazing makes him uncomfortable, he decides to sit elsewhere which I'm thankful for.

I remember flying once. It was a trip to the south where my Dad's grandparents lived. They moved there to retire and live out the rest of their lives, not knowing how the future of the world would divide us. Granddad was sick and Gran felt this time was it. We got a last minute flight and only had a few minutes to pack before we had to take off for the airport.

I remember the chaos of it all, not only with the whole trip, but the airport alone. We were in line for an hour just to walk through a metal detector and be patted down. I was eight and had no idea why there was such high security. Travis was even younger and felt more scared of security than the idea of flying.

Mom drugged him.

If the security alone was freaking him out, how would he feel in the air. She wasn't taking the risk. She bought an antihistamine allergy medication at the airport "gift shop" and told him to take it. He was asleep the minute she buckled him in his seat on the plane.

Because it was last minute, we were scattered throughout the plane. Mom got lucky and switched with an old man so she could keep an eye on her unconscious son. I was stuck in the back next to a spastic middle aged woman breathing into a paper bag. I watched the bag shrink and expand as she heaved heavily into it. I at least had the window to stare out which I felt would be my only saving grace of the flight. Unfortunately, the hysterical woman was freaked out at the thought of seeing the sky and reached over me and slid the shade down. I turned to look at her and felt such anger. What was I supposed to do for three and a half hours?

This flight is much longer than that. I thankfully slept through most of it. Staying up for fifty straight hours was exhausting and the hour catnap I had in the hospital wasn't going to keep me functioning. And since I'm now in the hands of distrustful people, I'm going to have to be more alert.

I follow Ernest's lead out of the jet and am surprised of the heat. Back home, we are nearing springtime so it's getting warmer than a steady twenty degrees. Here, it feels like summer.

There's a black SUV waiting for us on the runway. Ernest stretches before pulling on the door handle to open the backseat. I cautiously walk down the steps to the ground feeling the heaviness on my legs. He motions for me to enter which I accept by sliding in along the black leather interior. He closes the door, sealing me inside the vehicle and walks around the front to the passenger's side.

Once we're all secured we drive off, exiting the runway and entering into traffic. We sit in silence, the only noise is the air pumping throughout the car to keep us cool. The area seems desert like, but still filled with attractions. I didn't expect the western division to look so busy. I wasn't allowed access in when I drove out this far on my two year expedition, if you want to call it that.

We pull up to a hotel. I've never seen one so pristine. The driver exits the vehicle and opens my door for me. Ernest gets his own door. I'm exposed to the heat once again, but embrace it and allow it to warm my chilled bones. Ernest insists I follow directly behind him as we enter the lobby.

The place has an odd smell that I can't quite identify. It's not something I've ever smelled before. The staff behind the desk stiffen up and slap smiles on their faces when they see Ernest walk through the doors. We approach the front desk and are greeted with a gentle, warm voice.

"President Ernest," the fox-looking girl greets, "welcome back."

President?

"It's great to be back, Sylvia." He chuckles. "Are the arrangements I asked for taken care of?" He vaguely asks.

"Yes, sir. The room is prepared."

"Excellent." He turns around and looks down to me. "Sylvia is going to call Rider for you." He says loud enough as an instruction for the girl behind him. She begins to punch in a number into the phone. "He will show you to your room."

"My room?" I scrunch my eyebrows down and narrow my eyes at him.

"Ms. Detope, you didn't think this was going to be an hour long thing, did you? This takes time. Planning. We have much to discuss and work on."

"I can't stay here. I have --"

"You have a duty here." He interrupts. "Mr. Fierce is in very capable hands. There is no need to worry." A thin man with dark hair tucked under a cap arrives next to Ernest. "Ah! Rider, there you are." Ernest turns away from me. "Please escort Ms. Detope to her room. If she requires anything, do see that she gets it. She's our guest, please make her feel welcome and most importantly safe." Rider nods and politely smiles at me.

"Please follow me, Ms. Detope." Rider motions to follow him to the elevator. Ernest smiles and begins to talk to Sylvia about something. I'm out of earshot and the bastard decides now to whisper.

I follow after Rider onto the elevator and allow the death box to take us upward. We stop on the eleventh floor and exit through the sliding door. The hallways are huge and seem never ending. We take a left down from the elevators and stop at the second to last room on the right.

1168.

Rider jams a keycard into the door handle and slips it out, revealing a green light and the sounds of the door unlocking. He pushes open the door and allows me to enter first. He follows in after, but waits by the door.

The room is huge almost like an apartment. There's a kitchen, living room, bedroom suite, and a master bathroom which has a walk-in shower and a Jacuzzi tub. Rider clears his throat bringing my attention back to him.

"I have two keycards for you, just in case you lose one. Room service is free for you. There is a menu by the phone if you'd like to order. We have a pool and fitness center on the fifth floor. Television guide book is on the coffee table with the remote. The dresser and closet have clean clothes for you to change into and the shower and tub have any bathing requirements which you may need. Do you have any questions or needs that I may get for you?"

"Yeah, I have couple questions." I walk toward him. "First being, are you wired?"

"Excuse me? Wired?"

"Yeah, like wearing a recording or listening device. Are you recording me?"

"No, Ms. Detope. We respect privacy here."

"Do you know why I'm here? Why he's doing all of this?"

"He? President Ernest?" I nod. "He likes to make his guest feel welcome, not threatened."

"Cut the shit, Rider." I glare at him and I see him swallow hard. "Tell me what's really going on here."

"Ms. Detope," he hesitates, "President Ernest thinks you're special which most likely means he wants something from you. He doesn't treat everyone like this." He motions to the room. He takes a deep breath and sighs looking down at his shoes. "May I be honest, Ms. Detope?"

"That's really what I'd like right now." I fold my arms across my chest.

"This won't get back to anyone? I won't lose my job?"

"I'll keep you protected." I hold out my pinky to him which gets a laugh out of him. He latches his pinky with mine and we hold them between us.

"Whatever he's planning, seems like it might be a suicide mission."

"Preparing the pig for slaughter." I mutter under my breath which Rider nods in agreement.

"I'm not sure what it's like outside of this division, but there's a war brewing. Three leaders for the three separate divisions is not what President Ernest wants. He wants all of them. Word is so does the eastern division leader. She already has the central division by default since they can't decide who to elect. He wants nothing more than to take it from her."

"Why? Just for power?" I ask letting go of his pinky.

"She's crazy. That's what he says."

"And how would he know that?"

"She's his daughter."