Tomorrow, the plane would come.
23
BROOKE
At first,the sound of the plane was a quiet buzz, like one of the flies that liked to come at my head right after I showered. Then, as it neared, that light buzz turned into an all-out drone.
I stood on the porch and watched the float plane descend, an odd-shaped bird, mostly white with a stripe of blue. The floats skimmed over the water a few seconds before the backs of them hit. It stayed that way for a while, then the fronts lowered, the plane settling.
I’d never seen a plane land on water before. It was kind of cool.
After it hunkered down in the small waves, the engine became louder for a few seconds, then quieter. Finally, it rumbled its way to the dock.
Kane was down there already, a duffel bag beside him. He waved, and I saw the salutation returned by the person inside. John Clark. I knew his name and that he was human from Kane’s memories.
When the plane slowed, sidling up to the dock, Kane tied it off with rope, first the front end, then the back. When John jumped out, they shook hands.
I straightened my shirt. Time to meet the bush pilot. I’d opted for my skirt, ballet flats, and G-string, but borrowed one of Kane’s white T-shirts, tying a big knot at my hip so it fit better. My sequined top was already packed inside the duffel along with my toothbrush—the only other two belongings I owned right now.
Smoothing the front of my skirt, I made my way down the slight hill to the dock. The two men unloaded the plane. There were boxes of supplies, mostly food: fresh fruit and vegetables, bread, lots of canned goods, and non-perishables. Most of it would need to go back because we didn’t know how long we’d be gone.
The newcomer froze with a box in his arms when he saw me. His eyebrows rose into his hairline. A blue baseball cap topped his black hair, and his features and medium brown skin highlighted his indigenous heritage. He set the box on the ground and pushed the cap off his forehead.
“Hi,” I said, stopping a few feet away to give him a wave.
“Hello.” His voice was slightly loud, the word clipped. “And where did you come from?”
“The sky.”
He grinned and let out a whoop, slapping Kane on the back. “An angel. I knew it. You lucky bastard.”
“It’s Brooke, actually.”
“Brooke, the angel. Got it.” He extended his hand. “John Clark.”
I shook it, his grip firm. “Nice to meet you.”
When he dropped my hand, he went back to unloading the boxes like nothing was out of the ordinary, then froze again. He tilted his head toward the duffel bag. “I’m thinking I’m getting some passengers.”
Kane nodded, and I said, “We need a ride to town,” at the same time.
This time when he turned, he took in our surroundings with alert eyes. His gaze settled on the rotor blade sticking six inches out of the water. “You had some trouble?” he asked Kane with his eyebrows raised.
Kane passed him a note from his back pocket. I knew what it said.Do you know anyone who’d be interested in taking apart the helicopter and keeping the parts as payment?
John’s eyebrows rose even more. “Not the same kind of list you usually give me.” He took off his hat and wiped his brow before settling it back on his head. “Yeah, I might know a guy.”
When Kane reached in his back pocket for another note, John grimaced. I knew what that one said too.We need flight arrangements to Vancouver, not on a commercial flight.I didn’t have a passport or any sort of ID. I wouldn’t be allowed on a commercial flight, even a domestic one.
John considered the paper with a frown. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”
While he considered the request, rubbing his chin all the while, Kane sorted through the supplies, separating the perishables from the non-perishables. I stooped down to help but paused when Kane pulled three porn magazines out of the side of one of the boxes. I snorted.
His cheeks turning pink under his beard, Kane lifted the magazines in question toward John.
“Ah, yeah.” John scratched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry about that. Didn’t know you had company. Confiscated them from my nephew and thought you could use them.”
When Kane would have tossed them in with the fruit, I put a hand on his arm. “Don’t get rid of them on my account.” I’d never been a prude and didn’t care whether he got his jollies from looking at skin mags. He’d been by himself in the wilderness for years. What else was he supposed to do? “They’re good tinder if nothing else.”
