The wheels touched down hard.
The moment the cabin jerked, I looked out the window. The tarmac stretched in uneven heat lines, the hangar in the distance flanked by flagpoles. Military ones. My stomach turned. We weren't even at the terminal. We were on the runway. Of course we were. They knew who was in the cargo hold.
I stepped off the plane behind Shade. My heels sunk into the asphalt. I adjusted the black veil draped over my head. The air was thick. Heavy with engine fumes and mourning. Across the runway, one of my dad's old squadmates stood already in position to take over the duty of guarding my mother's body. Full uniform. The same one he wore for my dad's memorial days before.
Next to him, Cy, Deonte, and Dalia stood in a line. Behind them, the rest of my father's old pack. Mili
