“They’re headed this way.” Letting the excitement in, Leo cocked her head and closed her eyes. “They have to fly over town to get to him?”
“Not at all. No, he’s east of here.” Like a flash, Amka was up and back at the window. “Think they’re landing at the airfield?”
There was no denying it. The helicopters weren’t carrying on to some far-off location. They werehere. In Schink’s Station. “Affirmative.” A thrilling shot of adrenaline blasted through Leo, pushing the exhaustion and lightheadedness right out of her system.Too late, my ass.She’d fly to Turner and get him out, right under the Chronos team’s noses. Just like she’d done in Antarctica. It was what she did best after all.
And with enemies as ruthless as Chronos, there was no time to lose.
She yanked her pajamas off and started getting dressed, uncaring that she was naked in front of a stranger.
Amka eyed her. “Gonna need more clothes than that.”
Without hesitating, Leo grabbed extra base layers and wiggled her way into the underwear. “Why’s that?”
“You’ll see.”
“I’ll see.” She snorted. “Great. Just great. Famous last words, right?” Once she’d strapped on her weapons and put on every layer of clothing she could come up with, including her thick parka, she grabbed her flight bag, shoved water and some painkillers inside, and went to the door. “Think I can reach him before they catch up to me?”
“No.” The woman’s smile wasn’t exactly heartening. “But you can try.”
***
It was time to get a taste of civilization, Elias Thorne finally acknowledged as he poured boiling water over the coffee grounds he’d scraped from the bottom of the can.
Clicking his tongue, he set Bo’s bowl on the rough log floor and watched her attack her dried salmon as if she hadn’t eaten the very same thing every evening for the past nine months. If only he could drum up that amount of gusto. For anything. How long had it been since he’d felt real excitement?
Contentment, maybe, but actual enthusiasm? Not just months. Years.
Once the coffee finished dripping, he grabbed the steaming cup and headed out onto the bare-bones front porch, where the simple railing, roof, steps, and chair had all been made with his own two hands.
Admiring his work no longer stirred up so much as a spark of pride. He felt nothing.
With a sigh, he leaned against the railing, sucked in a deep coffee-laced breath, and warmed his hands on the thick, chipped enamel, eyes on the stream far below. The ice had started its spring symphony—a precursor to the massive breakup that would hit any day now—its low, musical crackling as intricate and varied as an orchestra tuning up for the big show.
The sound plucked its way up his vertebrae to sing along every one of his nerves until he thought he’d lose it. He should go down and check the lake, make sure he could cross it before breakup started and he got stuck here for another week at least. He could go around the lake, of course, but that trek took days.
He exhaled and slugged back more of his too-weak, too-hot coffee, craving the burn. Cravinganythingto interrupt the rhythm of the hours. Months. Years.
Eleven years of this eternal cycle.
The ice popped again, so loud that it echoed off the cliff face. He hadn’t planned on leaving for Schink’s Station today, but with breakup coming earlier every year, he might have to.
Maybe he could go for just a few days. Enough time to grab the supplies he couldn’t make, hunt, trap, gather, or grow. Give him a chance to make sure the world hadn’t blown up, and, if the stars magically aligned, find himself a woman to scratch the itch he couldn’t take care of on his own.
As usual, he ignored that other thing—the thing that was too deep to reach. So deep he barely recognized it as a basic human need.
With a low woof, Bo took off on her usual rounds, sniffing out all kinds of interesting creatures—a couple of ground squirrels that skittered off with angry hisses, an osprey, which rose to higher ground to watch Bo with a dark, fixed eye; and finally, the female northern goshawk he’d been watching for the past few days, her wingspan impressive as she took off with three hard beats, then glided low in search of early spring prey.
No sign of the grizzly whose scat he’d spotted early that morning in the quickly melting snow. Good. He was bone tired. Didn’t feel like dealing with the bear. Or anything else.
The heaviness in his limbs decided him. It was either go now or go nuts on his own.
If he wasn’t already there.
***
Leo leaned against the worn clapboard of the boathouse, keeping an eye out for pursuers while Amka fiddled with the lock. “You sure run fast.”
“For a fat old lady, you mean?” The woman glanced Leo’s way, eyes narrowing on her face. “Lived here my whole life. I know every pothole in Schink’s Station.” She shoved hard, sending the rickety wood door flying open. “Besides, I’m not the one who spent the night upchucking in my room.”
