The Enthusiasts

34

"Everyone has a plan 'til they get punched in the mouth." – Mike Tyson

Emerson picked Gabby up off the floor and then strapped her into a chair in the row behind Sasha. Her body slumped over to the side, stretching across the empty Mohave Sandscape tone of rusted tan that Spectra created and branded into the aircraft's soft-cushioned seat next to her. Cheeco watched and then came near — licking Gabby's face, whining in concern. The fear of being shot down by the enemy positioned somewhere below was leaving the minds of the group as they continued to ascend ever more reassuringly into the darkened sky. Emerson engaged the cloaking program which Gabby and Emerson had created days earlier — that should scramble any radar to appear non-existent, he thought. He set a pillow he found in the overhead compartment under Gabby's head for support. Then he checked with Teddy that the landing gears were up and that all things mechanical were in the best shape they could ask for at the time. Teddy asked where they were going. Emerson replied, telling him to set the course for Vegas. The choice had already been made for them as far as Emerson was concerned. Teddy obliged, gently swinging the plane left. This shift in motion startled Achak and Keith (neither of whom had ever flown) before settling at altitude heading south. Next, Teddy attempted to engage the vexing autopilot.

"Is everyone okay?" Emerson asked the group, who responded with small confirmations that they were. He sat down next to Sasha, observing the burns covering her back and neck. He noticed that the burns were recovering quite quickly already, looking more like a bad sunburn with rubbery, flaking layers of perished white skin cells encircling the afflicted reddened areas spread over her collarbone.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm okay... Actually, I feel like I'm healing faster than normal. It's kind of strange."

"I agree. What's the cause, you think?"

"I don't know. It was strange being down there. It was like a battleground, but I wasn't in the same mode I usually get into down there. I think it was from not being in close contact with the enemy. I was taking people out, but the feeling I get when someone's up in my face didn't kick in, you know? I don't know. It was like I was just doing a job. I was protecting the camp, and that's all. I didn't get the rush that kind of takes over. I felt calm down there. I was just doing my job. Even with all the velp going on around me, I just focused on what I was there to do. I think that's how most soldiers feel in battle. Not what I usually feel when someone is up in my face. Normally I feel awful after everything's over. But right now I still feel okay. I'm not happy or sad about what just happened. I just feel like I needed to do what I needed to do down there."

Emerson leaned back in his seat, his eyes studying her burns again. They continued to heal at a rate fast enough for him to watch the skin cover, repair, and turn back to natural skin tone right before his eyes. "Staying calm seems to have an improved speed characteristic on your healing mutators," Emerson hypothesized.

"Yeah."

"Maybe you could try to sta-"

"I try, Emerson. I do. You don't know what it's like, and hopefully you never do. It's impossible to overcome what goes on inside me when this urge gets ignited. It's my genetic makeup."

Emerson resisted his urge to press on Sasha's "impossible" statement, which he despised. He knew she had no chance to get better if she believed it was impossible for her to change. Instead, he reached out, softly touched her arm, and said nothing.

Sasha looked around the cabin at the other passengers. She wanted to discuss Gabriella's unconscious situation and develop a plan of action without alerting the others to the potential danger posed by another 'Celeste' alter ego situation. They were the only ones who knew the incident had occurred while on the same plane under similar circumstances only two days earlier. They both seemed to want to keep the information from the rest of the crew.