Page 77 of Protecting the Flame

AND THERE WAS…

Chapter 1

The hospital roomwas decorated with tiny lights. Soft Christmas music trickled from a ceiling speaker outside her door. At the moment, a jazzy rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock” competed with the soft and intermittent tick-tick-tick of a blood pressure cuff that self-inflated every twenty minutes and always got tight enough it was a wonder her left hand hadn’t gotten gangrene and fallen off. She’d complained to a nurse that her blood pressure never went above one-twenty, and the cuff was inflating to over two-twenty, which she was certain was stroke territory. The nurse, a cranky woman who probably was pretty pissed she got tagged to work on Christmas Day, had only shrugged, and Emma decided to deal. There were, she had discovered, many worse things in the world. Although if she had suffered through another rendition of Elvis crooning about his blue, blue Christmas, she might be moved to do violence. At times, she found herself almost wishing for Burl Ives.

“It was a rancher,” Will was saying. He perched on the edge of her hospital bed. “Nice guy named Judd. He said he’d like to visit soon as you’re feeling up for it.”

“I’m up for it,” she croaked. Her throat was still sore from that rush of superheated air as the concussive blast, which had knocked her flying, sheeted her body. Good thinking, her doctor had said, you putting that part of the plane between you and the fire. If she’d been any closer or in a contained space, she’d have probably flash-fried her lungs. It’s what happens to people in burning buildings, the doctor said. One big inhale, and their lungs are toast.

“Actually,” she said to Will, “I’m up for leaving.”

“Tomorrow. Don’t rush it. Where do you have to go anyway?”

Anyplace that isn’t a hospital? She still had her interviews with Kujo’s people to do, too. Although all that seemed almost trivial now. She should write all this up, get it down while it was fresh. She bet Outside magazine would take it. Ooh, and then if she included the rescue, Kuntz’s people and all…this had possibilities, but not if she was stuck here. She wondered how many other stringers were here already, camped around the hospital. Probably dozens.

She was surprised, actually, that there wasn’t a throng of reporters at her door now. She wondered if maybe Will had something to do with that. Or the hospital might care about its other patients. She’d known an older friend of a friend who’d been an intern when Reagan was shot. Talk about ancient history. The friend said the police escorted her into the hospital every day. She had nothing to do with the president’s care and wasn’t even on the surgical team, but reporters still stuck mikes in her face, hoping for a scoop. Journalists were like vultures over roadkill when it came to a story. That, at least, the movies got right.

“Tell me about Judd,” she said.

“He was out with his cows. He said he heard the plane go down but didn’t realize it was a plane until almost a week later when he heard it on the news. He was the one who got word to the search parties. We were right, too. They were looking in the wrong place. Even so, everyone kind of brushed him off except for that friend of yours, Kuntz?”

“He’s not my friend.” Her throat moved in a painful swallow, and she said, thinly, “He’s only a guy I was going to interview.”

“Here.” Taking a cup of ice water from a tray, he held the straw steady so she could sip. “You want more?” he asked when she came up for air.

She shook her head. What she wanted was food. She eyed the cubes of red Jell-O on her hospital tray and a half-congealed lump of something the nurse said was cream of wheat but that looked like something a cat brought up. The doctor said if she did well with soft foods today, she could have something approaching real food tomorrow. After all, the doctor said, we don’t want to tax your digestive system here.

Was he freaking kidding?It had taken all her willpower not to chuck applesauce at the guy. Her stomach wanted to get back to work.

At her stomach’s sudden, loud grumble, Will cocked an eyebrow. “Someone’s awake.”

“Oh, ha-ha.” Maybe Will would smuggle something in. Like, like…doughnuts. The soft type with chocolate crème. Or maybe Mexican? No, no, pizza, dripping with grease… My God, would you stop? She forced herself to focus. “So, what happened with Kuntz?”

“He got in touch with somebody back in Washington…Patterson? Anyway, the guy’s got friends. They rerouted a border patrol drone. It saw the signal fires you kept burning. So their people were heading up on foot when their drones saw the snowmobiles. They got there in time to get us, but Scott and the other two were already long gone and headed back your way by then. I think if they’d left more than one person to watch us, it might have been worse. As it was, all of a sudden, these red fireflies are lighting up the guy watching us, and they’re shouting for him to freeze and gets his hands up.” Will’s dimple showed. “It was like the movies. Oh, and the feds got into Burke’s safe, the one on the plane? A lot of maps and contact numbers. The DEA will be busy for a while.”

“Cool.” She rested a hand on her belly. Other than the jab of her hipbones…the doctor said she’d shed ten pounds…nothing felt different. “Can I ask you a question? The very first day, you made that comment about the black market and habits being hard to break. Did you know?”

“I wondered. The extra avgas when you’ve got a big belly tank made me sit up and then Hunter and Burke were going on about weight. So…” He shrugged. “It crossed my mind. I was thinking of putting a bug in someone’s ear once we got where we were going.”

“Speaking of which, how is Hunter?”

“They took both legs in below-the-knee amputations. Me, I think he’ll lose even more, but they wanted to give him a chance with as much viable tissue as possible.” He put a hand atop hers. “You are a nut and a maniac and one extremely, amazingly lucky woman. A little charred, but look at the bright side. If you hadn’t already been turned around, you might have lost your eyebrows.”

Instead of only the three inches of hair spilling from her watch cap, which had instantly crisped. “How’s Rachel doing?”

“About Scott? Not great. But the baby’s fine. He seems happy to wait to put in an appearance, but she’s pretty close, so you never know. You realize that if this had been a Harlequin novel, she’d have given birth, and you’d have delivered it.”

“Yeah, instead, we got sucky real life.” Then she blew out, impatient with herself. “I’m sorry. I should be grateful, I know. It’d be a lot worse if we were all dead.” Or if they’d been as unlucky as Hunter, Earl, Burke. Even Scott. “I guess what I meant is…”

“How does Rachel feel about you?” Will sighed. He, too, had lost weight. His cheekbones were sharp as axe heads, but that made him look stronger. A little feral, actually. It was a nice look. “I don’t get the sense she and Scott were destined for a long and happy life, especially after Scott pretty much gave us up when Talbot showed. But he was the father, and she’s also lost her dad. Give her time.”

They fell silent for a few moments. In the hall, Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers were warbling on about once upon a Christmas.

“Tell me about your wife,” she said. “Tell me what really happened with Becca. You didn’t divorce.” She didn’t know how she knew this, but she thought that was right.

If caught off-guard, that didn’t show on his face. “There’s not much to say. We wanted children, and then when we thought she was pregnant…” He paused. “Cancer’s a thief, you know. It steals everything. By the time she died, she had so many mets…metastases to the brain, she didn’t know who I was anymore.”

“And that’s when you stopped.”

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