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Chapter 6: An Unexpected Detour

*** Liberty’s POV ***

The hum of the helicopter blades is a relentless companion as we soar through the fading light. I sit rigid, staring blankly at the agents across from me. The cabin feels tight, suffocating, as my thoughts churn in an endless loop. It’s not just the constant drone of the engines—it’s the weight of the decision hanging over me like a storm cloud. Do I really want to dive headfirst into this experiment, into Frigid Rock, a place where even the air seems to hold its breath in fear?

I glance out the small window, and my heart skips a beat when I realize we’re not heading back to New York. The skyline that once dominated the horizon is now a distant memory, its shimmering lights and the proud silhouette of the Statue of Liberty nothing more than a fading speck. Instead, we’re skirting the coastline, the Atlantic Ocean stretching out like an endless abyss, dark and foreboding.

My throat tightens as I turn to the taller of the two agents, the one who seems slightly more approachable. “What’s going on? Why aren’t we heading back to Manhattan?”

His expression softening, gives me a brief, almost apologetic smile. “Dr. Reed asked us to take you on a little detour before dropping you off in Manhattan. So you can get a better idea of where you’d be spending the next few months, if you take up their offer.”

His words sink in, and I feel my stomach twist. They’re taking me to Frigid Rock. The thought alone is enough to send a shiver down my spine. “How far is it?” I ask, my voice barely audible as I try to recall the distance between Boston and New York.

“We’ll be there in just under two hours,” Jones replies, his tone making it clear that this conversation is over. He looks away, leaving me to mull over my thoughts.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath, the sarcasm doing little to mask the unease creeping through me. It’s already late afternoon, and the sun is dipping lower, casting long, syrupy shadows across the ocean. The golden light sparkles on the waves far below, as if mocking the dark thoughts swirling in my mind. At this rate, I won’t get home until well after dark. Mr. Mittens is going to throw a fit when I finally walk through the door. He’ll act like he hasn’t eaten in a week, even though I know full well he devoured two breakfasts this morning. Bastard cat.

I sigh and glance back out the window, watching the coastline pass by in a blur of sandy beaches and rocky outcrops. My mind drifts to the prison, to Frigid Rock, a place that up until now had been nothing more than a theoretical concept, a blip on a map. Now, it’s becoming terrifyingly real.

“Why so glum, sugar?”

Pearl’s voice breaks through the tension, her twangy Texan accent a surprising balm. I turn to see her grinning at me from the cockpit. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she adds, her tone light, almost teasing.

“Maybe I have,” I reply, trying to muster a smile.

“Well, I reckon you could use a change of scenery. Why don’t you come on up here and join me? I promise you the view’s a hell of a lot better from the cockpit.”

I hesitate for a moment, then decide that anything is better than sitting here in silence, stewing in my own thoughts. I unbuckle my seatbelt and make my way to the front, squeezing into the small space next to Pearl. She gives me a conspiratorial wink and nods toward the window.

“Go on, take a look. It’s not every day you get to see the East Coast from this angle.”

I lean forward, peering out at the sprawling coastline below. The world looks so different from up here, the tiny houses and winding roads like pieces of a giant puzzle. The late afternoon light bathes everything in a warm, golden glow, the ocean shimmering like molten gold. It’s beautiful, almost peaceful, and for a moment, I can almost forget the gnawing anxiety that’s been eating at me since this whole ordeal began.

“Not bad, huh?” Pearl says, her tone softer now, more reflective. “Reminds me why I got into this line of work in the first place.”

“You always wanted to be a helicopter pilot?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Nah, not at first,” Pearl admits, a small smile playing on her lips. “I wanted to be a bird, you know? Just take off and leave everything behind. But since that wasn’t exactly in the cards, I figured this was the next best thing.”

I chuckle at that, imagining a young Pearl dreaming of flying away from whatever small town she grew up in. “Where did you grow up?”

“Pine Hollow, in Texas,” she says with a sigh. “Small town, middle of nowhere. I was pretty much the only dyke within a hundred-mile radius, at least back then. I was a misfit, an outsider, always looking for a way out. So, I idolized Amelia Earhart, read everything I could about her. Thought maybe if I could grow wings and fly, I’d find a place where I belonged.”

Her words strike a chord with me, and I find myself nodding along. “I know what that feels like. Being an outsider, I mean. Always feeling like you don’t quite fit in.”

“Yeah, I figured you might,” Pearl says with a knowing smile. “But look at us now, huh? You’re a fancy professor, and I’m flying choppers for Uncle Sam. Not too shabby, considering.”

“Not too shabby at all,” I agree, a small smile finally breaking through the clouds of doubt.

We lapse into a comfortable silence, watching the coastline stretch out beneath us. The sun is sinking lower now, the sky turning shades of pink and orange as the day begins to give way to night. And then, in the distance, I see it—the city of Boston, its skyline a glittering beacon on the horizon.

As we draw closer, the city comes into sharper focus, the buildings rising like sentinels against the encroaching darkness. Lights are flickering on in homes and offices, little pinpricks of warmth in the gathering gloom. It’s almost surreal, watching the city come to life as night falls, knowing that somewhere out there, people are going about their lives, completely unaware of the prison lurking just beyond the horizon.

And then I see it. Frigid Rock.

It’s nothing like I imagined. It’s worse.

The island looms out of the ocean like a jagged wound, its cliffs sharp and unyielding against the relentless assault of the waves. Foamy white water crashes against the rocks, a violent maelstrom of energy that seems to reflect the turmoil in my own mind. The prison itself is a dark, brooding presence, crouching on the rocks like some ancient sea monster waiting to strike. Its stone walls are impenetrable, a fortress built to keep the worst of humanity locked away from the world.

My heart sinks as we circle the island, the helicopter banking sharply to give me a better view. The slits of light I see are eerie, slivers of silver that only add to the ominous atmosphere. I can almost feel the weight of the prisoners beneath us, the men who have been brought here based on my research, my theories. They’re down there, somewhere in that hellish place, and suddenly the responsibility of it all crashes down on me like a wave.

What have I done?

Pearl seems to sense my unease, her voice cutting through my thoughts. “It’s something, isn’t it? You’ll be working here if you take up their offer. Living here, too. It’s not exactly the Ritz, but I hear the food’s not half bad.”

I can’t help but laugh at that, though the sound is hollow, tinged with a growing sense of dread. “Yeah, I’m sure the cuisine is top-notch.”

We circle the island a few more times, the shadows growing longer as the sun dips below the horizon. The world is cloaked in darkness now, the only light coming from the helicopter’s beams as we make one final pass over the prison.

And that’s when I make my decision.

“I’ll do it,” I say softly, the words slipping out before I can second-guess myself. “I’ll take the offer.”

Pearl glances at me, her expression unreadable in the dim light. “You sure about that, sugar? No turning back once you say yes.”

I nod, more to myself than to her. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

She doesn’t say anything, just gives a slight nod before turning her attention back to the controls. “Alright then. Let’s head on home.”

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