Utopia – Book 2 p. 1 – A SciFi Romance

“Don’t look back,” yelled Alan, “get in.”

Taharai ran to the top of the jet’s ladder, but she did look back even though she had heard him. Alan opened the door and pulled her inside the moving plane.

She caught a glimpse of the old Honda ditched down below past the small crop duster’s airport in the cane fields. The heavy rain pouring on the scene did it’s best to sink the old car’s tires deep into the muck all the way to the driver’s door where Ana embraced the steering wheel and rested her tired head over it and sobbed.  She couldn’t see Ana inside, but she knew her destiny was in the hands of the gun men inside the marked cars with the revolving lights and the loud sirens.  But when she looked up and saw the helicopter above them, she knew then what she had to do.

Instantly, her eyes turned a fiery red and she crouched to collect the sticky web flinging it to the belly of the jet before leaping from the opened door.  The jet’s wheels lifted off the ground taking it into the air.  Taharai hung from the dragline onto the wet runway and ran to cover under a crop duster.

Alan begged. “Come back, what are you doing?” But she couldn’t hear him anymore.

The plane veered towards the south under the nimbus cloud gaining full speed rapidly until it disappeared. The helicopter loomed above the cane fields while the police and FBI took a willing Ana into custody.

Taharai climbed into the crop duster’s cockpit and sat in the pilot’s seat.  Exhausted, she dozed off to sleep while watching the sunset over the rainbow as the rain subsided.

Alan clenched his teeth and shook his head all the way to the Tamiami Airport where  authorities awaited him.

At sunrise, when Taharai awoke, she remembered her night’s dream.  She was back in her beloved forest, the Amazon, taking a ready capybara from the previous night’s hunt to Alan’s cabin.  He had been expecting her and had set out to intercept her path a mile away from camp.

“I knew you were coming today,” he said surprising her with a bunch of wild violets.  She had smiled pleased that their kindred spirits had arranged the timing.

A drop of something wet trickled down her cheek.  She felt her face and wiped it off, then tasted a salty fingertip and wondered if that was what they called a tear.  “How will I be able to survive without the hunt?” She wondered.

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