Page 20 of High Intensity

Twenty minutes later JD and Dan find both pilots in the nose of the plane, which must’ve broken off on impact. Both are dead. It’s one of the sheriff’s deputies who ends up recovering the matriarch’s body when a few of them show up to join the search.

By nightfall, six bodies have been moved by sled to base camp.

The girl is still missing.

Seven

Jillian

I lift my hand at the guy in the truck as he drives off.

I don’t think he even glanced in my direction.

Then I look back at the load of firewood he literally dumped at the end of my driveway. I guess it was naïve of me to think I’d be left with a tidy, stacked pile on my porch without putting in some serious elbow grease myself.

The prospect of carrying every log up to the house is a bit daunting, but maybe I can find a bucket or a bin in the garage. I haven’t been in there since I stumbled around in the dark during the power outage, but this time at least I’ll be able to see something.

Cobwebs are the first thing I notice, and a light shiver runs down my back. Not a big fan of spiders, at least not indoors where I don’t expect them. I grab the broom leaning against the wall just inside the door, and with a few well-aimed sweeps clear most of them away.

Other than some drywall sheets leaning against the back wall, and an old workbench with a few rusted tools under thesingle window, there isn’t much there. No bucket or bin in sight. But when I glance up, I notice a rope hanging down from a plastic sled up in the rafters. Now that could be useful.

It helps to be able to drag the wood to the porch steps, but I’m still sweating buckets when I finally put the last log on the pile. Still, while I have the sled out here, I may as well load it up with the empty boxes I’ve been collecting on the back deck as I unpacked. I’ll load them in the back of the SUV and drop them off at the recycling depot just up the road when I head into town later.

Ten minutes later, I’m on my way to the bathroom to get out of my sweaty clothes and hop in the shower, when the ringing of my phone in the kitchen stops me. The phone number on the screen doesn’t quite register until I already have the phone to my ear.

Shit.

“Jill?”

Chris is the only one who calls me that, and I’ve grown to hate that name. But that might be because of the visceral reaction I have to the sound of his voice. I feel instantly ill.

My instinct is to hang up on him, but a kind of sick curiosity stops me.

“What do you want?” I snap, none too graciously.

“I actually stopped by to talk to you after seeing you at the grocery store, but I discovered you sold your place. I’ve been worried about you.”

“Now,you’re worried about me?” I remind him.

“Come on, Jill, please…” His tone is patronizing, and anger starts to burn in my gut. Even more so when he adds, “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Oh, I know it doesn’t,” I fire back with a healthy dose of sarcasm. “So, I’m asking you again, what is it you want, Chris?”

I can sense his annoyance in the heavy silence, but I can play this game as well—if not better—as he can. Call me petty, but I feel a faint sense of victory when he caves.

“Fine, I was trying to be considerate so you don’t get blindsided. Rachel delivered a healthy baby boy last Saturday.”

Hot bile surges up and coats the back of my throat. I don’t know why I react like this. It’s not like this is unexpected after bumping into him and his very pregnant wife at Albertsons, but I didn’t need it in my face.

Still, I force myself to say, “Congratulations.”

Of course, Chris can’t simply leave it at that, and pushes his luck.

“You know, he actually looks just like?—”

I immediately cut him off with a warning.

“No. Don’t you dare go there, Chris. This conversation is over.”

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