Sam had been through turbulence before… even bad turbulence. But nothing had prepared her for this descent into meteorological hell. The problem was not the lightning or the booming thunderclaps, but the rims and rifts of air currents that seemed to attack the helicopter from all directions. One moment they were rising up and the next dropping down thirty feet only to be shot upward again. She was too scared to puke.
This violent display of nature forced her to consider that she might actually die in this helicopter. Despite that she had seen death often, and in fact was a member of the only healing profession authorized to deliver endings daily, she had not previously given much thought to her own death. She had been too angry and too focused on what someone else had done to her to take the kind of control necessary to imagine her own end.
But now Sam thought of what she would miss and what she had missed. Travel? A human life partner? Children she might have given life or love to, and now would never know?
Maybe these things. But her thoughts kept coming back to the smell of fur, the sound of paw-nails on hard floors, the clarity of gold-flecked irises in sunlight. She wouldn’t miss the things she had never done. She would miss what she knew—her dogs, the shelter, and those who had toiled with her amid the sounds and smells of rescue and sanctuary. All those would-haves or could-haves and lives not chosen? What did they really matter now? Could it be that, whether by luck, coincidence, or destiny, she had been doing the exact correct thing all along?
Except even if that was true, she still could not avoid the conclusion that she had failed. The giant countdown clock sneered at her. She had given shelter but not sanctuary.
Never sanctuary.
In the hopes of some distraction from her own thoughts. Sam glanced at Tom, white-knuckling his armrest. He appeared to be experiencing the same physical effects of the turbulence and trying hard to keep it together. “I’m guessing I’m not looking too professional right now,” he said.
“You seem to be doing fine.”
“I’m trying to think of other things.”
“Like what?”
Tom shrugged, but it wasn’t convincing.
“Throw me a line,” Sam said. “I’m sort of dying here.”
“I was thinking that I miss my son. He would think this is really cool and if he were here I would try to act fearless for him. Try to be worthy…”
“He likes adventure?”
Tom nodded, and once again Sam could see the love this man had for his boy. “He likes movement, contact, activity, you know, signs of life. He’d love your shelter.”
“He should come by… if we live through this.” To the pilot Sam shouted, “Will this thing hold together?”
“Goodness, I hope so.”
“A little more confidence right now would be great,” she said weakly.
“We will be fine. Not as bad as I thought.”
“Are you kidding me?” Sam asked.
“At least we’re still vertical to the horizon.”
Sam looked out the window and tried to see past the rain lashing the glass. “How can you tell?”
“Because we haven’t stalled yet. We’re almost through this,” the pilot called back. “Just one more rift. Hold on.”
“Crap. Not again.” Sam gnawed on her thumbnail.
Tom unstrapped his broken watch and handed it over to Sam. “Keep this on until we finish this.”
“I couldn’t—”
“Take it. For luck.”
Sam tightened the watch on her wrist and actually felt a bit better for reasons she could not explain. “Thank you. I promise I’ll give it back when we land.”
“Don’t worry,” Tom said, and smiled. “I know where you work.”
A powerful blast of thunder rocked the helicopter. Instinctively Sam reached out to steady herself and grabbed the first thing she found. She discovered Tom’s hand in midair already searching for her own.