Departure by A. G. Riddle

does the decision become real.Only then do you learn what you’re capable of—and I’m not capable of this. I’m not sure if that makes me a bad guy or a good guy.
    I hope help is out there. I really do.
    Slipping the other three guns into my jacket, I slam the lid shut and stand there for a moment, the key in my hand but no resolve in my heart. My bluff is called. Defeated by my own morals. So be it.
    Sabrina stiffens as I approach her, but I just hand her the key. “There’s a lockbox in the cockpit,” I mutter, turning away from her. “Could be a good place for the meds—it’s close by, sheltered from the elements. That’s the only key.”
    She tucks the key in her pocket wordlessly, her intense dark eyes locked on me, not betraying a shred of emotion.
    I can only imagine how I must look to Sabrina and the others around us right now. They’re thinking maniac and madman, but they haven’t made the calls I have in the last forty-eight hours. I wonder what I would do if I were in my right mind, if I were well rested and well fed, if the lives of a hundred people weren’t in my hands at this very moment.
    One in particular.
    But force won’t work on Sabrina. I’m ashamed that I thought it and more so that I almost tried it. However, there is something she’s vulnerable to: logic. And she has another weakness: reading people. A solution forms in my mind, as clear as the plan I devised by the lake. It could work.
    â€œIn case it affects the calculus on your end, I need to say this. As you pointed out, I have an emotional connection to Harper. I stared into her eyes and asked her to put her life on the line. I feel responsible for what happened to her. If she dies, I’ll be depressed. That’s a psychological disorder. I assume your training includes psychological conditions.”
    I wait, forcing her to answer.
    â€œIt does.”
    â€œIn my depressed state, I’ll be unable to take on any leadership duties. No more quick life-and-death decisions from me. As you noted previously, this camp would be in chaos without me. That could lead to a loss of life.”
    Sabrina’s eyes move to Harper and back to me, and I can almostsee the wheels turning in that biological computer she calls a brain. “Noted,” she says.
    I search her face for any clue about whether she’s bought it, but there’s nothing there to read.
    I feel every eye in the cabin upon me as I walk past Harper’s seat. I did everything I could. I’ll see if I can get myself to believe that.
    Outside, I try to put the encounter behind me and focus on the very important task at hand. I pass guns to the other three team leaders. They’ll alter their vectors forty-five degrees today, heading northeast, southeast, and southwest, respectively. Mike, Bob, and I will follow Mike’s eastward path back to the glass-and-steel structure, our pace quicker today. Our goal is to reach it before noon.
    â€œUse the guns only if you’re threatened by hostile animals—save your ammunition for absolute emergencies. If you don’t find help, on your way back tomorrow look out for big game to shoot—deer, moose, cows, whatever you come across. Run back to the camp and get people to help you lug back anything you kill. You all know the situation. I’m not going to give you a speech. The truth is, if we don’t come back with help or food tomorrow, we’re looking at casualties in the following days. The elderly and weaker passengers are going to starve, and there are people in desperate need of medical supplies. Either we succeed, or people die. That’s it. Good luck.”
    The group breaks up, and Mike, Bob, and I set out through the dense green forest and frosted fields. The tall grass thaws with the rising sun, soaking my pants below the knee as we go. It’s cold, but the pace keeps me warm. I try not to think about Harper.
    We stop