Page 33 of Protecting the Flame

Chapter 10

You are a horrible human being.

Working a wrench with grim efficiency,she cranked loose nuts and bolts, trying not to feel the grab in her side, working hard not to listen as Mattie cried. She didn’t wail like a little kid but sobbed in soft, angry hiccups as Will tried to comfort her. Would it have hurt her to embellish a little, say the stupid damn blessings, maybe even teach the kid a verse of “The Dreidel Song” or “Rock of Ages”? It’s a matter of principle. Saying the blessings would be hypocritical, an empty gesture to an even emptier and more bankrupt concept because that’s all a god was at the end of the day, wasn’t it? An idea? She’d have better luck putting her faith in Spiderman.

Wrestling her seat and Rachel’s from their rails, she butted them against their barrier of luggage and Visqueen. Once morning came, presuming it stopped snowing, they could reassess and figure out where to put the seats for the duration. God, she hoped that wouldn’t be more than another day. Any longer and, hell, they could set the seats out in the sun, catch a couple rays, work on their tans.

When did you get this way? The voice was half hers and maybe a little of Ben mixed in. Whatever the case, it was a good question. Perhaps she had always been a glass-half-empty kind of person.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. She went to work on Will’s seat. I dare anyone to come home to what I did and still look on the bright side of life. This was probably the reason she despised romance novels—all those size two women with the flyaway hair and their drop-dead-gorgeous guys on the covers…and none of the men seemed to have heads, did they? No, only rippling, well-oiled six-packs. She snorted as she dislodged a bolt and thumbed out a monster screw. Fantasy land.

Once she was done with the seats, she spread Burke’s double-ton bag, shucked her boots, killed the flashlight, and then, still wearing her watch cap and the rest of her cold-weather gear, slipped inside, and lay on her right side. She listened to Will’s low murmur. The sound was comforting, almost a lullaby against a counterpoint of snow scurrying and hissing over plastic and metal. Eventually, he fell silent. She felt him waiting, could imagine him with Mattie, perhaps sitting quietly with his good hand pressed to her back. After a time, there was a soft rustle and then Will slipped into the sleeping bag where he settled with a small groan.

Without turning, she said in a low murmur, “Does it still hurt?”

“Yeah.” A long sigh. “Not as bad. I might have a small fracture. Hard to tell without an x-ray. Have to be careful not to use the hand or arm much.”

“Can you? Use it, I mean.”

“Within reason. I’m not going to be doing any rappelling any time soon, though, or splitting wood. Better hope we find a lot of downed branches. Thank God, Burke packed that folding saw.”

“Which you are not going to use. With our luck, you’ll saw off a thumb or something.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m serious.” She turned onto her back, a move she regretted an instant later as the pressure on her left ribcage sent a spike of pain zinging into her spine. “We can’t afford for you to get hurt more than you already are.”

“You always sell yourself short?” Before she could reply, he went on. “I heard that groan, by the way. I never took a good look at you.”

“Tomorrow.” She rolled a bit onto her right side to take the pressure off her back. The pain fell to a low grumble.

“Is there a reason you keep putting me off?”

“No. It’s that there’s nothing to see. You really think we’re going to be out here long enough where chopping down trees becomes an issue?”

It was dark as pitch in the fuselage. She couldn’t see his face or even a glimmer of his profile. “I think we need to be prepared for that,” he said.

A clot of panic formed where her heart rested. “Come on. Will, even at minimal rations, we’ll run out of food in a week. Maybe less.”

“Let’s not catastrophize yet. We’ll know more in the morning, once we’ve got better light. Even if the snow doesn’t let up, we’ll need to do some exploring, find fuel for a fire.”

“I thought about that.” She told him her idea for using Visqueen and building a lean-to. “I think we’re close to trees. We can probably gather a lot of wood. We won’t be able to start a fire if the snow keeps up, but we can be prepared.” Starting a fire in or on the snow would be difficult but not impossible once the storm let up.

“We’ll need it. If we are near trees, that also explains why the wings are gone. They wouldn’t normally shear away like that unless they get caught up on something.”

“How long do you think we’ll have to be here?” It was a stupid question. “That was dumb. Ignore me. You can’t possibly know.”

“True. But I’ve certainly asked myself the same thing. We’ll have to hope for a break in the weather sooner rather than later. Weren’t you going to do a story on a bunch of military guys?”

“Ex, but yeah. Why?”

“The military has a better capability when it comes to search and rescue, even in storms. They’ve got choppers that can navigate in the equivalent of pea soup. And there are drones. They use them way up for here for patrolling the border because it’s more efficient and easier than navigating mountains and forests on foot.”

“Heat signatures, you mean.” That put a new spin on things. “They could look for us even in snow.”

“That’s the theory.”

“How long do you think we should wait?”

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