Read Until the Beginning for Free Online

now it alternates with a mechanical puttering noise. Could it be a motorbike? Somethinglike the desert-ready motorcycles owned by the man who traded cars with me? I turn in a circle, scanning the horizon. And then I see it. A small airplane heading north. Although too far to have spotted us, it’s close enough for me to see the symbol painted on its tail: a black circle enclosing the letters BP , and between them a stick with a serpent wrapped around it. Ice flows through my veins as I recognize the logo of Blackwell Pharmaceutical—the same one that marked the airplane I was kidnapped in, the car I was driven in, and the building I was brought to against my will.
    I prop myself up to see over the side of the truck. Miles is asleep under the blanket I draped over him last night. I shake him gently. “Miles?” I ask.
    His eyelids flutter and open. He rolls his head toward me, and his groggy expression turns to one of alarm when he sees my face. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
    “We need to move,” I say. “A Blackwell Pharmaceutical plane just flew past. They were headed northward. But if they’re combing the park for us, they’ll be back soon, and might spot us this time.”
    Miles clenches his hands into fists and strains as he lifts his head slightly off the truck bed. He holds the position for a second and then, groaning, eases his head back down. “I still can’t move,” he says.
    “I could camouflage us,” I say, “but if they’re focusing on this area, I’ll have to either keep it up for hours or turn it off and on every time we hear them coming. And what we really need is to get out of here.”
    “Can’t you just cover me with a blanket and hide in the tent next time they fly by?” Miles asks.
    “The plane is flying low enough that they might notice a suspiciously person-shaped lump covered with a blanket in the back of a pickup truck.” I shake my head. “I’ll have to use the dirt bike loader to get you down.”
    Decision made, I spring into action. Unhitching the back of the pickup, I pull it open and hop up into the bed. Miles presses his eyes shut as I shuffle him away from where the metal ramp is attached. I take it firmly in my hands to lift it off its supports, and . . . nothing. I yank it again. It doesn’t budge.
    I wiggle it around, trying to get it unstuck, but it only becomes more firmly attached. I lean over to see that one of the pins the ramp hangs on is bent out of shape. I’ll need a hammer or some kind of wedge to bend it outward before the ramp will come free.
    Far away, it sounds like the aircraft is turning. As the buzzing gradually becomes louder, my heart thuds hard against my rib cage. I feel my hands tremble and realize that I’m afraid. The close shave with the helicopters that kidnapped my clan, and my own traumatic experience in Mr. Blackwell’s private plane have shaken me. I break out in a cold sweat. Even if I tried to camouflage us now, I’m not sure I could reach the Yara in my current state of anxiety.
    I jostle the ramp again and run through my inventory in my mind: There are some tools in my repair kit that might work. I’ll need to run back to the tent to get my pack. But the buzz ofthe plane is getting louder, and panic grabs me by the throat and squeezes hard.
    I force myself to move, running for the tent. I eye my pack, but know there’s not enough time to use tools now. Instead, I grab the pillows and covers and, sprinting back to the truck, I spread them on the ground beneath the tailgate.
    I roll Miles to the edge, and lying down on top of him, press my chest to his and wrap my arms and legs around his body. His eyes are wide with alarm. “Juneau, what are you trying to—” he begins, but I interrupt.
    “Just shut up and try to relax any muscles that are working,” I say. And with all of my strength, I use my right arm and leg to wrench Miles’s body up from the truck bed, and roll us off the back of the tailgate. For a split second we are