Page 12 of High Intensity

My voice comes out hoarse and I clear my throat.

“Yes,” she confirms, her hand falling away when I turn to face her. She’s wearing that lopsided grin. “It seems most people either love or hate it. What camp are you in?”

“It’s a good solid breakfast. I like it all right.”

She nods. “Good. I’ll make us a quick pot before you head out.”

We move around each other surprisingly smoothly in the relatively small space, as I work on the coffee, and Jillian does something with bananas and cinnamon that makes the oatmeal smell fantastic. I pour us coffee, while she ladles the oatmeal in bowls, and we sit down at the small kitchen table.

“This is good,” I share after scarfing down half of my bowl.

It earns me one of her grins. “Good. It’s the way I used to cook it for—” She appears to catch herself. Her face blanks as she lowers her eyes, nervously tucking a strand of her messy hair behind her ear.

I open my mouth to ask her what’s wrong, when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

“It’s Jonas,” I tell her when I check the screen.

Clearly service is back up and as I answer, I watch Jillian dart down the hallway to her bedroom. I assume to grab her own phone.

“Morning.”

Not one for pleasantries, Jonas gets right to the point. “Where are you?”

“Went to check on someone and got stuck here.”

“Well, get yourself unstuck, we’ve gotta mobilize the team.”

Jillian

“I promise I’m fine. I’ll drop by with River as soon as I can get out of my street.”

Cell service is obviously back up, and electricity came back on maybe half an hour ago, not long after Wolff left. I’d just gotten out of the shower when Sloane called me back. I’d left her a message earlier.

“I’d swing by, but Aspen is running a fever, and Dan had to go in to work early. Apparently, some plane went missing and the team’s being called out for a search.”

“I heard,” I share without thinking.

After Wolff got off the phone, he told me the team had been called out to search for a smaller airplane that had gone missing in the mountains during the storm last night.

It’s been on my mind since he left. I can’t help but think, if that plane went down with the storm raging out there, the likelihood there are any survivors is virtually nonexistent. It makes me sad, how one moment we’re here, and the next all we are is memories.

“You did?” Sloane interrupts my wandering thoughts. “Who’d you talk to?”

Oh dear, here we go. I’m not about to make up some story, since I can’t lie for shit, but I’m afraid my friend’s imagination is going to run amok at the truth.

“Wolff. He was here when Jonas called him.”

“Wolff?” There’s a brief pause, and then at a slight increase in pitch, “At your house?”

“It’s not what you?—”

“Oh my God, I knew it! I could tell there was something going on at Thanksgiving. Wolff looked like someone gut punched him when he caught sight of you. When did this happen? Boy, he did not waste any time, did he?” she rambles excitedly. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“That’s because there’s nothing to tell. Nothing’s happened. His truck got stuck in a ditch when he was dropping off some survival stuff for me, so he rode out the storm here. That’s it. You’re creating fantasies, my friend.”

“Well, shoot me for trying to find something happy to think about.”

My antennae perk up.

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