Canyons of Steel - Nobody Guns For My Family Pt. 8

She didn't stare out the window of the small, twin engine Cesna. She didn't care about the water below them. Nor the clouds. Not even the sight of a beautiful pod of whales stirred her interest. Marianne Wollcott only cared about the last phrase that anyone had said to her in earnest. I hope your choices are better than mine. For as smug as he was, Derrik Stewart held some wisdom. Perhaps his tortured soul would be saved. But Marianne knew her own could not. Not ever.

The islands were a remote location in the Bermuda Triangle. It was difficult to get to, and most of the worst vermin on Earth hid in this small island chain. Ruled by the iron fist of Don Thadius Maximus, this Mafia controlled chain of islands was a lawless land indeed. She knew that she would have to hide in this place, because every single person on these islands would be gunning for her. Perhaps she would find allies in her fight for survival.

She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes, letting herself lightly sleep. It had been five days since she had last gotten any real sleep. Since the assault on the Stewart Towers, she'd been on the run, sleeping where and when she could. "Sleep. Perchance to dream," she muttered to herself.

"What was that, ma'am," the pilot asked as he looked back to her.

"Nothing," she replied as she forced a small smile. Probably the first smile since she'd joined the Sisterhood. "Just quoting Shakespear."

"Hamlet, isn't it," the pilot commented. Again, Marianne smiled.

"You are quite well read."

"I'm a pilot, ma'am," he said with a chuckle. "When I'm not making trips, all I have to do is read. I get by with that just fine."

Marianne looked out the window of the small plane and smiled. Perhaps this would be a good start to a new life. She had always been associated with cutthroats and thieves, never once had she been involved in a conversation, even as short as this, that held any kind of meaning. "That's life. All of us just getting by."