“Where’d that damn hitchhiker get to?” Twelve men were strapped into two rows of six, each in a U.S. Navy uniform. The engines roared and the man standing near the front had to yell to be heard. Ava turned quickly back to the opening, that vicious rip in the hull she’d just pulled herself through. But it was gone, sealed up as though it had never been.
Well, she reminded herself, at this point it technically hadn't.
She had not yet been noticed by the men thanks to a large cargo box blocking her from view, so she snuck a glance out of the oval window next to her. A warm evening sky greeted her, and tufts of clouds drifted over the English countryside far below.
The propellers whirled and the sight pressed into her a sudden feeling of panic. She willed herself to be calm; more than anything, she needed to keep a level head right now. There was nothing for it but to get this finished as quickly as possible.
It was really happening. Charlie had been right.
This was not a haunting.