Island of the Sun by Matthew J. Kirby

lap.
    Eleanor rolled her eyes and turned away, facing the airfield, where planes roared up the runway and lifted off into the night, and the lights of the distant passenger terminal glowed in a row. The people in there were traveling for business, and possibly even for pleasure. Down here, farther away from the distant threat of the ice, the world just seemed to be getting on with things. But that was exactly what the ice wanted. Eleanor knew its methods well: its predatory patterns, the way the cold deceived, and circled, and waited, and then crept in to strike the almost gentle, final deathblow. It was only a matter of time before Mexico City became like Phoenix. And then like Fairbanks.
    â€œEleanor!” she heard Finn call as three shadows jogged around the edge of the hangar. They approached her, entering into the light of the hangar, and she couldsee they had all been running, dark rings of sweat under their armpits.
    â€œWe have to leave,” Dr. Powers said, panting hard as he marched past her into the hangar. “The G.E.T. found us.”
    â€œThey spotted us at a museum Dad wanted to see,” Julian said, almost as an accusation. Eleanor could tell from his tone the suggestion of a museum hadn’t been a welcome one.
    â€œI wanted to go, too,” Finn said.
    Julian snorted. “I know you did—”
    â€œBoys!” Dr. Powers said. “We’re not doing this again!”
    Finn and Julian fell silent.
    Dr. Powers shook his head. “I’m not certain the agents knew who we were. But they were suspicious enough to follow us.”
    â€œBut we didn’t want to lead them back here,” Finn said.
    â€œWe’ve been trying to shake them for hours,” Julian said.
    â€œIt’s too late,” Eleanor said. “They’re already here at the airport.”
    â€œWe should take off immediately,” Dr. Powers said. “Did Luke find the tracking device?”
    â€œYes, two of them,” Betty said. “
Consuelo
is clean.”
    They boarded the plane and roused Luke from a nearly comatose sleep that required Dr. Powers to shake him by the shoulders. As the pilot staggered to his feet, yawning, Eleanor wondered if he was alert enough to fly. But he widened his red eyes and dragged his fingers down his cheeks as they explained the situation, and he seemed to be mostly himself by the time they finished.
    â€œLet’s get this bird in the sky,” he said, and shambled up into the cockpit, where he switched on
Consuelo
’s controls and then hurried a bit more sure-footedly down toward the airplane’s main hatch.
    Eleanor and the others all took their seats, the same ones they’d had before, and soon Luke was back in the cockpit, and the engines spoke up, and the plane inched ahead. They crept out of the hangar into the night, the lights on the tips of
Consuelo
’s wings blinking as Luke radioed the tower, asking permission to take off.
    â€œLet’s hope we don’t get shot at this time,” Betty said, cinching her seat belt tighter.
    â€œThe tower’s asking us to sit tight,” Luke said.
    The cabin went quiet.
    Did that mean they were onto them? Were they holding their plane there until the G.E.T. could arrive, or the police? Gabriela had taken the tracking devicesto plant on another plane, but what if she hadn’t succeeded in that?
    â€œIt’s probably nothing,” Luke said. “Bottleneck on the runway.”
    But still no one spoke, and the plane’s engines bored into the silence. Eleanor listened for sirens and watched the airfield for approaching vehicles. The only thing she saw was a luggage truck ambling by, beams of light from its headlights bouncing gently on the tarmac. Each minute that managed to somehow pass did so shouting threats. After several of those, Eleanor’s mouth had gone dry beyond swallowing.
    â€œAffirmative,” Luke finally said into his headset. “Roger