Page 27 of Protecting the Flame

Mattie stuck out her lower lip. “Grown-ups always say that.”

“Sometimes they even mean it. As I was saying, you can also use this for an emergency tent or a tarp.” Will nodded toward the front. “Be a nice way to block off the rest of that opening, too.”

“Wait, we won’t suffocate, will we?” asked Mattie.

“Well, the fuselage isn’t going to be airtight, but we’ll leave a way for us to crawl in and out, like a snow tunnel. Speaking of which,” Will asked Emma, “how buried are we?”

“Not bad, but the snow’s really coming down, so it’s going to get worse,” she said. “That might not be a bad thing, though, Will.”

“For us to get buried?” Mattie’s eyes were wide behind her glasses. “No one will see us.”

Will’s tone was soothing. “But snow’s a good insulator, Mattie. Come on, a smart girl like you, you have to know this.”

“Yeah.” She gave a cautious nod. “We learned about igloos and stuff.”

“Exactly. It’s why snow houses keep you warm. And I hate to say it, honey, but no one will be looking for us tonight. It’s almost dark, and it’s still snowing, so…”

Mattie’s teeth snuck out to gnaw at her lower lip. “But what about my grandfather?”

Probably dead. Funny, how that thought was so…dispassionate. Very matter-of-fact. It’s snowing. Oh yeah, he’s toast. Except for a few moments when she’d finally comprehended their situation, she’d not wasted a lot of time thinking about the others. She’d been so busy taking care of Rachel and worrying about Will and trying to set up a shelter that would actually give them a shot at surviving the night. There was also a very small part of her that actually felt a tiny bit…well, relieved. She didn’t need to be responsible for yet one more person. She had a hard enough time taking care of herself and, frankly, with their scarce resources, they had a better shot at making it with fewer mouths to feed.

And, yeah, it was also true that she wasn’t all broken up about Scott. Good riddance to bad rubbish. Mean but accurate.

“There’s nothing we can do about your grandfather tonight,” Will said. “I’m sorry, honey, but that’s the truth. If he’s smart, if the cockpit is anything like the fuselage, he’s holed up, trying to stay warm, same as us.”

“But he won’t have any of the stuff we do.” Mattie’s eyes filled again. “It’s not fair.”

“I know. Now, come on.” Will waggled Emma’s travel mug in his good hand. “Let’s fire up my Jetboil and make something better and hotter to drink than this swill.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to snipe that she resembled that remark, but she caught it before it could leapfrog from her mouth and let the words curdle. Getting punchy. There wasn’t anything the least bit fun, funny, or even mildly amusing about this. Yeah, cool, she and Will could toss glib one-liners; hooray, they knew the same bad pop-cultural icons; but she felt as if all that were something born of a mild hysteria. It was easier and better and even more constructive to make stupid jokes than to give into panic and how she really felt as if there might be nothing better to do than run off screaming into the wilderness.

“I’ll work on the shelter,” she said, more sharply than she intended, her tone suggesting one of them needed to do something useful before they all died. But she had to get out of here. She had to move, to do something. If there was enough plastic left over, and there should be, she was going to put that hand axe to good use building a lean-to for a woodpile. If we’re here that long. “Why don’t you guys start going through the rest of our crap, pool our stuff, see what we’ve got?”

From his expression, she knew Will caught that caustic edge. “Sure.” Clamping his good hand to the edge of the locker, he pushed to his feet. “But Mattie can handle that. Let me give you a hand.”

“Well, considering that one is all you’ve got at the moment, not a chance.” They needed Will, especially if Mattie’s brother decided he was really sick and tired of a womb without a view, ha-ha, and that now would be a good time to blow this crackerjack joint.

“All right.” Will favored her with a long look. “I still need to examine you, though, and that gash on your scalp needs cleaning out.”

“Yeah? Lessee, she’d already gotten Will’s arm into a sling, cut Mattie out of her harness, had Will talk her through supergluing and then bandaging Rachel’s scalp, mostly built a barricade to keep out the damn snow… “Well, it’s always something,” she said in her best Gilda Radner imitation, and that made her even angrier. SNL was a stupid show. “We’ll get to it.” Hefting a roll of Visqueen—ignoring the yammer of her damn ribs—she grabbed a roll of duct tape. “As soon as I finish.”

“Okay,” Will said easily. “But at the risk of pissing you off even more…”

“I’m not pissed.”

“Yes, you are,” Mattie said.

Jesus. She blew out in exasperation. “What?”

“Have you checked the antenna?” asked Will.

“What antenna?” said Mattie asked.

“Emergency locator transponder.” She should’ve remembered to check this. “All planes are supposed to have them. They’re designed to go off on impact.” She decided not to go into all the reasons why, sometimes, an ELT would not go off. “The ELT broadcasts a signal search and rescue teams can zero in on.” She looked back at Will. “You think that’s why we haven’t heard anything? Why no one’s come looking?”

Will inclined his head in an abortive shrug. “It’s possible.”

“What are you saying?” Mattie looked from her to Will and back again. “What does that mean?”

“He’s saying that might be a reason we haven’t heard a search plane.” She kept her eyes on Will. “It’s snowing, Will. No one’s going up in this to look for us.”

“Still, best to check,” Will said. “Better safe than sorry.”

And if something’s wrong with the antenna, then what? She didn’t even want to think about it. She’d think about it tomorrow, and fiddle-dee-dee.

“I’ll do that,” she said, and left.

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