Page 63 of Protecting the Flame

Chapter 5

The fire was mostly out,and if it had been up to her, she’d have started over fresh in the morning. But she kept it zipped and only held the flashlight, moving it whenever Mattie said so the girl could see what she was doing. As Mattie fussed, she threw a quick look at their wood supply sheltered under its lean-to of Visqueen. If they did leave here, they would have to start all over, every day: a shelter, a fire, a woodpile, food, water. Worse, much of what they’d already managed…the lean-to, the wood pile, this signal fire, even their stupid latrine…all that would be left in their rear view. They could pack out a lot but not everything, especially if they were also taking out Rachel and Hunter on the raft or whatever half-assed stretcher they could rig. Maybe both would fit on the raft and maybe not, but no matter what, that was a two-person operation and heaven help them when it got to a rock scramble or steep downhill.

So, maybe only one of us should go.Dropping to her belly, she followed Mattie and wriggled back into their shelter. But go for what? To hunt? She thought again of the drone. Or not wait and get the hell out of Dodge?

As she shucked her boots, she looked over at Mattie who’d gone to check on her mother. “Still in the mood for chili mac?”

“Yeah.” Mattie was studying her mother by flashlight. “What time is it anyway?”

“Late. Past ten. How’s your mom?”

“The same, although…”

She stilled, her fingers poised to rip open the MRE’s pouch. “Although what?”

“I think.” Mattie pulled her head over a shoulder to look back at Emma. “I think she’s dreaming.”

“Really?” Abandoning the pouch, she scuttled down and wedged herself next to the girl. “Show me.”

“Watch her eyeballs…there.” Mattie pointed. “See? They’re rolling.”

The girl was right. Emma’s gaze sharpened on the woman’s face. Rachel’s nostrils flared at irregular intervals, and the tiny muscles along her mouth twitched. Her breathing had become more irregular, too, and Emma thought back to her grandmother’s mouser, Timmy. Whenever Timmy’s whiskers would quiver and his paws twitch, Sarah quipped, Got himself another critter.

“Dreaming,” Mattie said slowly, “is good. Right?”

Dreaming was normal. Did people in comas dream? Will would know. “I know people dream at different times of night.”

“And lots of the time right before they wake up.” Mattie’s tone was tentative. “I read that in a book. I think we need to ask Will. Aren’t you supposed to talk to him anyway?”

“Yes, but this isn’t an emergency. Come on. We need to eat.” She set about preparing their meal, ripping open the MRE’s plastic pouch then pulling out packets and the flameless heater. (MREs were never amazing, but choking them down cold only added insult to injury.)

As she poured water into the flameless heater, Mattie asked, “Can we light candles now?”

“Sure. This will take about ten minutes. Why don’t you set them up?” After slipping in the pouch of chili mac, she propped the heater on a boot near the entrance where there was a draft, started the timer on her watch then scooted back to where Mattie was screwing candles into the travel menorah. “You want to do the honors?”

“Yeah.” After touching the tip of the burning shamash to each candle in turn, Mattie screwed the shamash back into place. “Yehi ’or.”

“Yehi ’or.”She caught Mattie giving her a look. “What?”

“Why don’t you ever say the blessings? The Hebrew ones on the back of the box?” Mattie hesitated then added, “Will did. He didn’t even have to look. He knew them by heart. I asked Will if he knew why you won’t, and he said he didn’t, but that I should ask you. So, you know, I’m asking.”

Well, that answered the question about whether Will was Jewish. “Your grandfather and I had this same talk, more or less. I don’t believe in any of that, Mattie. They’d be only words, and I don’t see the point in saying thanks to something I don’t believe in.”

“You don’t believe in God at all?” When she shook her head, the girl asked, “Do you believe in miracles?”

“I believe there are things we think are miracles because we can’t explain them.” She cocked her head. “You know science, Mattie, and math. What do you believe?”

“Sort of the same thing, especially after my dad. But then there are times when I see something really cool, like a pretty sunset or when I finally got to see Saturn through a telescope and then I get this feeling.” Mattie pressed a bunched fist over her heart. “Right here, like something is so beautiful, so amazing my whole body fills up, and I feel like I’m going to burst. Sometimes, in the woods, if I’m walking and there’s a bird singing, I feel the same way. Really…big inside like there’s another part of me connected to something larger, and I like it. Why make us this way if there isn’t a reason for it? That’s what I don’t understand.”

“Me neither.” Emma shrugged. “But feeling spiritual isn’t the same as believing in a god or belonging to a religion.”

“Then why do you wear that?” Mattie pointed. “Your star.”

Her fingers caressed the pendant. “Because it belonged to my grandmother, and I like feeling close to her. It has nothing to do with a god or religion. Religions are nothing but systems people made up to explain the world. I mean, Mattie, look around.” She gestured at the fuselage. “This is totally random. There’s no purpose here or some god’s plan. That would be like saying your dad got shot or your grandfather died for a good reason where there is none.”

“Well…but Grampa dying means there’s a little more food.” At her expression, the girl said in a rush, “I know that sounds bad, but I bet he would’ve pretended not to be hungry so Mom and I would have more. If we hadn’t crashed, I wouldn’t have met you or Will.” Mattie thought another moment. “If my dad hadn’t died, like…would there be a Joshua now? Even if half of him is Scott?”

Or there might well have been a Joshua that was half her dad, but she didn’t say that. And, seriously, there was a purpose to her grandfather’s death? “I guess not believing is my choice, and—” Her watch beeped, and she said, “And I think it’s time for dinner.” Slipping out the pouch of chili mac, she ripped off the top. An aroma of hot tomato sauce, spicy beef, and macaroni ballooned out on a pillow of steam.

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