War Girls (The Juniper Wars Book 5) by Aaron Ritchey (find a book to read TXT) 📗

For a second, I felt the trauma and agony of every second of terror and disappointment I’d felt through my long journeys through the Juniper Wars. But again, I didn’t curse, I didn’t leave.

“In AA, we’re taught that we must surrender to win. You don’t have to do this alone. If you let us, we’ll help you. If you continue to push everyone away, like Wren does, you won’t win this fight. Which is why you’re stronger and more effective than your sister. Because you let us all join you in your plans.”

In my heart of hearts, I didn’t want to be alone. After my long walk to Burlington, after losing Sharlotte and Wren and betraying Alice, I told Pilate I’d do this quest, but I wouldn’t do it alone. He swore I wouldn’t have to.

I crossed the room and I made a choice. I walked right into Tech’s arms, and I let her hold me. In the comfort of her nearness, I knew that I couldn’t go on being an emotionless machine.

I had a war to win and a holy quest to complete. I couldn’t do it acting out of my trauma and contrary fury.

For a second, I let myself crumble. Instead of tears, and instead of rage, I felt a peace enter me. Zero felt close.

Tech held me for a long time.

“Why are you and Sketchy so willing to help us?” I asked.

“Because we are family. We claimed you and you claimed us. Sketchy and I don’t turn our backs on family.”

“We have to find Wren,” I said. “In this mess, we have to get to President Jack, but we also have to find Wren.”

“Family,” Tech said, touching my head.

“Family,” I repeated. And I let her touch my shaved scalp. She hadn’t mentioned my hair ’cause in the end, what we look like doesn’t matter much.

Family does.

(ii)

Again, I tried to sleep. This time, I chose a bunk alone in the aft right wing and while I had my isolation, being up so high kept me gasping. And my mind was working me into a frenzy as my cold heart warmed up, rebuilding itself out of Tech’s kindness and righteousness.

She knew that my strength came in bringing people together, not playing the loose cannon. The world already had one Wren. That was enough. I had to be Cavatica.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up, dressed in my shirt and jeans. I couldn’t dress in any of the ARK clothes. They’d been made for Regios; they were all one size and that size wasn’t mine. I wondered what the U.S. peacekeepers thought of the Regios though I’m sure interactions were limited.

In the cockpit, I found Sketchy alone, flying through clouds. She sat at the wheel. I sat next to her. We didn’t say anything for a long time.

Finally, she let out a kind of yelling sigh. Started as a sigh, ended as a yell. “I know you, Cavatica Weller, and I know that you’re tough without you pretending to be tough. And dang it, I forgive you for the Moby Dick. Forgiving you for Peeperz is harder. You were following your plan, but he sure was shook up. I’m sure you can relate. Remember your first time on the Moby? We fought that goddamn June Mai Angel’s airship pirates and we beat ’em back. But you froze. Your sister made a big deal of it. Yet when it came down to it, you made the shot. So, I say all that to say this... losing the Moby is a blow, but this old Heartbreaker is a better ship for what we are doing. For our war.”

“This war is mine,” I said. “But y’all are invited.”

We both chuckled.

Pilate came in and slid down into a chair behind us. “So, ladies, you come up with a plan to save us all and find our people and get to Tibbs Hoyt so we can bring his empire down around his ears? And let’s do it without anyone dying. How about we do that?”

“You ever parachute?” Sketchy asked.

My heart went to my throat.

Pilate had an answer. “Funny, the army doesn’t think chaplains need to parachute. They assume we’ll float down to the ground on the backs of angels.”

I was going to say something, but my heart still filled my throat at the idea of jumping off the zeppelin.

Sketchy chuckled then got to it. “That Baptista girl is something. She came up with the idea. We get low, drop you out in parachutes, and you land at the south end of the Platte river. You use the river to float into Denver and to find your people. You two ain’t never parachuted, but Baptista has.” Sketchy let out a guffaw. “See, Cavvy, this is why I don’t feel so bad about Peeperz. This is my revenge. You look so pale right now.”

“It’s Cavatica now,” I said. “What if Baptista is a Severin? What if this is a trap?”

Pilate made a face. “That’s why the movie The Thing was so terrifying.”

Sketchy and I exchanged glances. We had no idea what he was talking about, but Pilate loved his archaic pop culture references.

“Come on, people, what videos do you watch?” Pilate asked.

Sketchy and I didn’t answer. It was a rhetorical question, kind of.

“If Baptista is a Severin, we’re screwed,” Pilate said finally. “Screwed, blued, and tattooed, or so they used to say.”

“We have to trust her.” We had no other choice.

(iii)

We hit Denver in the wee hours of the morning on March 12th. Sunrise wasn’t even a thought in the night sky’s mind.

We could see the perimeter the U.S. had set up around the city; it was a line of campfires from Northglenn to Littleton, from Aurora to Lakewood arching around the north along Standley Lake in Arvada down to C-470 near what used to be Highlands Ranch, voted the ugliest housing complex ever built. Now it was miles and miles