“Not until you explain what’s going on.”

“There’s no time. Please. Just trust me. Get the girl away from the door. Hide her.” His voice was desperate. “Please.”

Hide Eunjoo? Hide her where? Calliope shone the flashlight across the vast expanse of the hangar until the beam reached the row of airplanes against the wall. “Let’s go, baby.” She scrambled up, clutching Eunjoo in one hand, the bowl Bisabuela had given her in the other, then pulled Eunjoo across the room toward the planes. Amy followed, muttering, “This is insane. Maybe I should just fly us away.” She sighed, then said, “Well, go on, get the girl in the cabin,” though she sounded unconvinced.

Calliope opened the small, hatched door of the plane at the end of the row, toward the wall where she’d just conversed with her dead great-­grandmother. The hatch popped open. She motioned for Eunjoo to climb in behind the seats. The girl crouched in the back. Calliope asked if she could breathe back there, still not sure why she was asking her to hide or from what. Eunjoo squeaked her answer, a chirp Calliope was fairly certain was yes. This poor child. Was Phoenix safe, wherever he was? She stood back from the plane. It was a puddle jumper, yellow and white. The name on the back, in black sprawling cursive: Vixen.

A rumbling at the roof—strong wind? Thunder? Calliope expected Amy to get in and hide, but instead she was circling to the front of the plane, touching the propeller, the needle nose, the top, over to the left side, touching the wings.

“Amy, what on earth are you doing?”

“Preflight inspection.” She said this like it was the commonest, most obvious thing. Duh.

“I see that. I mean, why?”

“To make sure this sky pig can get us out of here. Fuel, oil, tires, control surfaces, hull integrity, and electrics.” She continued pulling and prodding at different parts of the plane. “Is there a cup in there? I need to check the fuel.”

“Check it for what?”

“Water.”

Calliope looked around, not seeing a cup. Eunjoo reached from her crawlspace in the back, handed Calliope a clear, hard plastic cup. Calliope passed it to Amy.

“Thanks. I’m assuming no radio or GPS. Not sure how we’ll navigate.”

“So, you … have your pilot’s license?”

“You need to see my license and registration, officer?”

Calliope looked hard into Amy’s face, gauging whether or not she was serious. Had she learned all that from a video game? YouTube?

A pounding on the doors, a scratching metal sound. Was that Chance? He might be more forthcoming away from Amy and Eunjoo, as when they’d been alone in the hangar before, with Bisabuela. Calliope left Amy to her game of checking the plane.