Haley and I sat in League HQ. The League’s twenty foot high TV screen showed nothing—just blackness.
Nothing had worked out.
OK, nothing might have been stretching it. We’d brought Marcus, Travis, Vaughn, and Courtney to one of Haley’s cousins, a doctor, who did what he could for them. Then we left, and they stayed.
None of them were unconscious, and if we got into the air, we might be able to detect Rook’s plane with the League jet’s sensors.
We couldn’t. So after a few circles around Grand Lake, we landed the jet, and went back to HQ’s main room, and sat there in a room the size of a basketball court, calling people and leaving messages.