Shadow Of The Past Trilogy ∞ THE DISPLACED

70 ∞ so close

[PG-15 for intimacy & language. 
Trigger warning for PTSD in the last third of chapter.]

Day Sixteen ∞ Saturday night

A SEA OF LIGHTS spread out before them, below them, beckoning in the dark.

"Las Vegas Tower, Skylane tree-six-two-foxtrot, with you for one-niner right," Danny heard Atlas say through the headset.

"Skylane tree-six-two-foxtrot, Las Vegas Tower. Wind zero-four-zero at six. Runway one-niner right, cleared to land," a sing-song voice responded.

"One-niner right, cleared to land, tree-six-two-foxtrot."

Danny glanced at the green glowing dial of his watch. Soon two o'clock. It had taken eleven hours to get here—including the hour-long refueling stop in northern Texas.

Mom must be worried sick. I hope Sis can convince her nothing's wrong. His brow furrowed as he put the thought out of his mind. He couldn't afford to get distracted by worrying about family now. It was out of his control.

Mickmi rested her hand and head on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

His stomach growled in reply, but he ignored it. "Yeah... I should be asking you the same question," he said and squeezed her hand.

"I am." She looked out the window, wistful. "A city that never sleeps."

"Among other things, I suppose."

"'Sin City'. It is in your encyclopedia. Ours survived not the Great Desolation."

"You had a Las Vegas too?"

"Aye." She said nothing more until they landed.

Atlas taxied the plane toward some buildings near the end of the runway. He followed the signals directing him where to park, then shut off the engine and flicked some switches. The propeller appeared to change directions again as it slowed and stopped rotating. Danny and Mickmi took off their headsets as they looked around.

Atlas hopped out and the two took their bags and followed him past another light private plane to find a helicopter on the tarmac.

"Whoa... We're gonna fly in that?" Danny said under his breath. "Right away?" His stomach made another complaint. The plane was one thing—it had doors that hid their altitude until he was ready to look down. On this craft, the doors were completely transparent, like a continuation of the wide windscreen—plus there were windows at floor level. He wouldn't be able to avoid vertigo without closing his eyes.

They stopped in front of the chopper as Atlas inspected it in the available light. He headed for the nearest hangar door to speak with someone, then returned to them. 

"We have thirty minutes. Stretch your legs while we refuel. Restrooms are in there," Atlas added, pointing to a smaller building as he started walking.

"Atlas," Mickmi said, halting him in his tracks. "We shall continue in the morning. We should eat and rest."

He turned to her. "You're kidding me, right? You can sleep when you're dead."

"Even soldiers fighting to their death need to rest before a good fight," Mickmi said. "We shall eat and rest. And I... must prepare myself for what I must face."