For the third time, Naomi set the log on its end and centered the axe head on it. She tightened her shaking hands until the axe stopped wobbling, pictured Martin in her mind, lifted the axe into the air, and tried to do as he did.
Didn’t work.
The axe glanced off the log again, jarring her shoulders and back, and Naomi discovered she was snarling. Out loud. From where she’d put him on a stay fifteen safe feet away, Hades whined. For once, she didn’t pause to reassure the big, watchful Rottweiler, to send love. She had nothing left to give Hades, couldn’t comfort him, because she couldn’t comfort herself.
Piper was gone.
She, Jack and the other travelers had zoomed off shortly after dawn this morning, waved off by the entire community, the sound of their motorcycles a shocking roar in the soft, rosy morning. Everyone, even the elderly and those with tiny infants, had gathered to see them off. Jack had been their leader, and although he’d spent the last several months delegating his responsibilities and had grown steadily more distant from everyone since Layla’s death, he had led them through the early days following the plague and he would be missed.
No one had stepped up to take his place yet, and there was a shifting, anxious restlessness in the community as a result. Jack’s responsibilities could be divided and shared, but who would lead them? Who would they look to when danger threatened and swift decisions were called for? Who would speak for them, as more and more outsiders found their way here? Naomi was acutely aware of the collective anxiety and was equally aware of how often eyes turned to her now, how often people asked her the questions they used to take to Jack.
Today, though, she couldn’t care less.
Today, her only surviving child had once again struck out on her own. But unlike that long-ago, other-life day when she and Scott had moved Piper into the dorms at the University of Northern Colorado, she couldn’t call to chat, to hear her daughter’s voice and know she was safe. Couldn’t Skype, couldn’t hop in the car and make the two-hour drive to see her. Couldn’t turn her attention to Macy and Scott, filling the empty ache with the rest of her family. Today, she was alone. No longer wife, no longer mother. Just taking the next breath hurt more than she could believe.
She might never see Piper again. Her daughter had disappeared into the morning mist and might never be back. There had to be somewhere to go with the emotions boiling in her chest, the regret making her heart boom, the grief making her vision ebb and pulse with light. Something she could do, some way to let it out. Back at the cabin, she’d cleaned everything there was to clean, rearranged every room, and then put it all back the way it was in the first place. The harder she worked, the harder she tried to not think, the more frantic she felt.
She had refused to join the rest of the community to see them off, turning her face away from Piper’s goodbye this morning at the cabin, refusing to feel the tears her daughter had been choking back. Fifteen minutes later, she’d been running, running as fast as she could manage with Hades on her heels. Piper had taken the ATV, and when Naomi finally arrived on the edge of the gathering wheezing, staggering, breathless, she’d heard the collective call, the voices raised in fare-wells and safe-journeys, the startling roar of the bikes. Too late. People stared at her wild self, at her halo of snarled hair and the tears she couldn’t stop, and a few of them tried to approach her, to offer comfort. She had snarled at them, just as she was snarling now.
Too late. Too late to kiss her daughter’s soft face one last time. Too late to give her the protective amulet she’d fashioned, patterned on the one Layla had given her last spring. Too late to wrap every bit of love and mother-energy she had left in her broken-down heart around her girl, as if that would have made a difference. As if anything would make a difference. Her daughter was heading into a violent, desperate, unpredictable world. She may as well have jumped off a cliff.
Naomi centered the axe head on the log again, glaring fire at it, then swung the axe up and brought it down with all her strength. It bit this time – bit deep and stuck. She jerked at it, then jerked again, yanking and cussing.
“Naomi! What in hell are you doing?”
She ripped the axe free and swung around. Martin was standing beside Hades, hands propped on his hips, face dark with irritation. He took a half-step back when she turned, his eyes widening slightly, his body falling into a defensive posture. Oh, the gratification of that. The ferocious satisfaction his wariness brought her. Hades tensed as he picked up her mood, shifting into a silent crouch, his body taut with the potential of menace. Naomi hefted the axe, saw Martin’s eyes flicker to it, to Hades, then back to her, and she exulted.
“Show me how to do this,” she snapped. “Now.”
Martin’s eyebrows rose slowly. He stared her down for a handful of heartbeats. Then, he moved to join her. “First, put the log lower, on the ground – here, on this bed of wood chips so you don’t damage the axe head. You need your full range of motion, to make up for what you don’t have in upper-body strength. Feet apart. Hands apart.” He accompanied his words with nudges of his own feet and hands, and then pointed at a crack on the log. “Hit it right here.”
She listened to every word he said and did exactly as he told her, striking the log precisely, feeling the axe head sink deep again. Amazing, how much easier it was. Martin grunted approval and helped her lever the axe head free. “Again. Same spot.”
She split the log on her second strike, and he set up another without a word. They fell into a silent rhythm, broken only by the “chunk” of her axe and the increasing huff of her breathing. She lost track of the number of logs she had split by the time he reached for the axe.
“That’s enough for now.”
He took hold of the axe, but Naomi refused to let it go. As she’d worked, the burning in her gut had eased, replaced by the burning in her arms and shoulders. Her stomach clenched at the thought of stopping. Stopping meant thinking. “I’ll finish the pile.”
“No, you won’t.” He popped the axe out of her hands with maddening ease. “Best way to get hurt splitting wood is to keep working when you need a break.”
She grabbed at the axe, missed. “I don’t need a break.” She grabbed again, and felt the snarl boil up her throat once more. “Give it back to me. I said give it back!”
“Naomi.”
She looked up. Exasperation and a sad knowing on his features this time. As soon as their eyes met, the dam broke.
“I didn’t say goodbye!”
The words wailed from the depths of her. Dimly, she heard him sigh before he maneuvered her to sit on one of the large, un-split logs. Huge, tearing sobs felt like they’d rip her chest apart, but she couldn’t begin to stop them, rocking back and forth with the force of her misery. Martin up-ended a log beside her and sat, letting her cry it out. Not until she was swiping at her streaming nose and hiccupping brokenly did he touch her, his big, warm hand landing on her shoulder and squeezing. She looked up at him through swollen eyes.
“Well. I bet you won’t make a dumb-ass mistake like that again, will you?”
The old, soft Naomi would have been crushed and outraged, cut to the bone. The hardened thing she’d become barked out a laugh and shrugged his hand off her shoulder. She shook her head, lifting her t-shirt to scrub the tears and snot off her face. “Thanks, Martin. You always know just what to say to make me feel better.”
She tipped her head back and stared at a summer sky so blue it looked like a painting. A steady, increasing breeze picked up the wisps of hair that had escaped her braid; there was monsoon energy in the air in spite of the blue sky. Before the day was out, she was sure, they’d have thunderstorms. Where would Piper and the others take shelter, she wondered? The tears welled up again. She let them flow this time, gentle cleansing instead of violent catharsis.
“The ironic thing,” she said to the sky, “is that I’ve been acting just like her. Just like Piper used to act when she was a teenager. Not talking to her unless I had to, refusing to look at her.” Her throat tightened up, but she kept choking the words out. She needed to get this out. “I thought she’d see how hurt I was, that she’d change her mind about going. Or about letting me go with her.”
“You could have gone with her. If you had really wanted to go, she couldn’t have stopped you.”
“No, she couldn’t have. But she didn’t want me to go.”
She swallowed and turned her face away; no need to remind Martin of the words Piper had hurled at her. He had been there when she’d done it. There had been plenty of witnesses to that mother-daughter throw-down.
They had been gathered at the church to begin working through the practical details of the travelers’ departure. Weeks before, the call had gone out in the community for people willing to travel with Jack and Piper. Ed, their former neighbor, had been the first to volunteer, showing up to the meeting with his scruffy dog at his side.
“Maybe I’ll swing down to Texas after we get Jack settled,” he had said. “See if I’ve got any family left other than Rosemary, here.” At the sound of her name, Rosemary had lifted adoring eyes to Ed’s face, and his hand had dropped to rest on her head. “As long as I can bring my best girl, I wouldn’t mind seeing what’s going on in the rest of the world.”
To everyone’s surprise, Owen Weber had also stepped up. Layla’s death and the loss of their unborn child, so soon after the loss of his wife and children in the plague, had brought the quiet giant of a man to his knees. His eyes had been haunted, hardly lifting from the floor as he spoke in a voice rusty from disuse. “I can’t stay here. I have people in Minnesota. Might be I’ll head there when we’ve found your sister, Jack. But I can’t stay here.”
Naomi had glanced nervously at Jack, but if he was feeling anything other than compassion, he didn’t let it show as he nodded his acceptance. The meeting had progressed with a discussion about mode of travel, and as opinions were offered and expanded on, Naomi had been aware of the ever-increasing tension emanating from her daughter, a tension that had been building steadily since Piper had announced she’d be leaving.
They had argued about that, of course. Naomi had said everything she could think of to dissuade her, but Piper would not be moved. Eventually, Naomi had been forced to admit her daughter’s reasoning was sound: Piper wanted to put distance between Brody and her, wanted to help Jack find his sister, wanted to expand on the historical record she’d started during her time with Brody’s group and start creating connections between the scattered communities, like theirs, that had to be out there.
Naomi had come to understand those reasons, especially the first of them. She had also assumed she’d be going with them, and began to plan accordingly. As the weeks had passed, though, Piper had grown increasingly tense whenever Naomi spoke of the trip, increasingly silent. Naomi had ignored it. Deep inside, though, she had known what those silences meant. Piper had confirmed her fears, breaking in as Naomi had been lobbying for travel on horseback.
“Mom, stop!” Piper’s words had burst out of her, and she had closed her eyes for a moment before going on in a calmer tone. “It’s not going to happen. I should have said something sooner, but I didn’t want to hurt you. You’re not going with us.”
It had taken Naomi long, breathless moments to get her voice working. “I am going,” she had insisted. “Of course I’m going, Piper. I have to. We just found each other again.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. But we need to travel as fast as possible on the way there, and horses just aren’t practical. You’ve never driven a motorcycle, and –”
“I can learn! I learned to ride a horse, didn’t I? I’m not like I was before, Piper. I’m stronger now, more fit, and I –”
“Mom, I don’t want you to go!” Again, the words had erupted out of Piper, and again, she had modulated her tone, meeting her mother’s eyes steadily. “I’m sorry it hurts you, but I don’t want you to go.”
An awful silence had followed Piper’s quiet words. The reactions of the others had been telling: Jack, Ed, and Owen had all looked down. Naomi could feel their respect and their sorrow for her pain, but none of them spoke up in support of her. Martin’s eyes had been steady on Naomi’s stricken face, and his hand had found hers under the table. He had known this was coming, Naomi realized. Whether he had guessed or Piper had told him didn’t really matter, because he didn’t argue with Piper, either.
“It’s not…I just…” Piper had hemmed and hawed in very un-Piper-like fashion, and Naomi had felt the swooping roller-coaster of her emotions: terrible guilt warring with a powerful yearning. For freedom. From her. “Mom, this is just something I need to do on my own. I just need…some space. Some distance from…everything.”
Naomi had risen from the table where they had all been seated. Too hurt to feel angry. Too frightened for her daughter to feel humiliated. Martin had started to rise with her, but she’d stopped him with a raised, shaking hand. She had left the room without another word. Preparations had gone forward without her input or involvement, and the confrontation had never been spoken of again. Until now.
Martin handed her a handkerchief before she could swipe at her face with her t-shirt again, and she took it, murmuring a thank-you. Somehow, he always had a clean handkerchief, even now, when laundry was a much more difficult chore than in the time before, and people were becoming accustomed to going about daily life much grubbier. Naomi blew her nose, then returned her eyes to the sky, wishing she could pull that cool blue inside her and soothe her heart with it.
As hurt and frightened as she had been by Piper’s decision, she was still a good mother. And a good mother did not smother, stifle, coerce or manipulate her children. Not ever, not even in these times. “I could have gone with her. You’re right. I could have insisted on following her or guilt-tripped her into staying.”
She looked at Martin, feeling empty and angry and lost. “But then what? Do I follow her around for the rest of our lives? Do I cling to her forever? Refuse to let her go? When it was time for her to go to college, she couldn’t wait to get away, to get out on her own. She hasn’t changed, and she never will. Piper has been walking away from me since she took her very first steps.”
“She loves you. You know that.”
Naomi heaved a deep sigh. “I do. And it’s not an angry thing anymore, thank God. But Piper is a seeker. She has a gypsy’s soul. The plague, everything she went through – none of it changed her basic nature. She is who she is. I could feel how excited she was to go, all tangled up with her guilt over leaving me.” Her throat tightened. “I miss Macy, so much. She was a homebody, like me. Scott and I used to joke that we had one of each. Piper started asking for her own apartment when she turned 16, and we’d have been nudging Macy out on her 30th birthday. Now, I don’t know who I am. I don’t know who to be without being a mom to my girls.”
Martin snorted softly. “So. Empty nest syndrome on steroids, then.”
Again, he surprised a bark of laughter out of her. “Yeah.”
A soft, chuffing bark drew Naomi’s attention, and she turned to meet Hades’ worried gaze. Unless she was in physical danger, he stayed where she put him, though it distressed him terribly to see her cry. Naomi clicked her fingers twice, releasing him from the stay, and he shot to her side. The big dog pressed close, rumbling softly in contentment under her stroking, scratching hands. As always, contact with one of the dogs calmed and comforted her.
She looked around for perky, golden, butterfly ears and bright eyes, blinked in surprise at the impressive pile of wood she’d split, then looked at Martin. “Where’s Persephone?”
“With Grace.”
He looked away as he said it. Naomi frowned. She’d been so caught up in the boil and turmoil of her own feelings, she’d been oblivious to all else. Her frown deepened as she examined his familiar profile, seeing the subtle lines of strain that only someone who knew him well would see, feeling the undercurrent of distress in him.
“What’s wrong?” Worry made her words sharp. Martin’s daughter, Grace, had become so precious to her. “Has something happened? Is Grace okay?”
“She’s fine. She’s at the library with Anne, like always. She’d sleep there if I’d let her.” But he still wasn’t looking at her.
“Then what are you so worried about?”
He did look at her then, a sideways glance of annoyance. “It can wait.”
“If something’s wrong with Grace –”
“God, this intuition thing can be such a pain in the ass,” he muttered. When she started to argue, he glowered at her. “I said it can wait. You’ve got enough with Piper leaving today. I’m trying to be sensitive here.”
“Oh. I see.” To her amazement, she felt the corners of her mouth twitch, and a laugh bubble up. She set it free, then laughed again when his frown grew darker still. “Come on, Martin, you can’t blame me for not catching on. When have you ever worried about being sensitive before?”
“A guy can try.”
He looked gruff and embarrassed, and Naomi felt her toes edge closer to a cliff she’d been sneaking up on for some time now. As always, the realization sent her into nervous motion. She stood up and stretched, feeling the pull of new muscles in her neck, shoulders and arms. In the time before, the sensation would have dismayed her; she’d have headed straight for some ibuprofen and a heating pad. Now, that ache meant strength to come, a new skill learned, and she had learned to love it.
“I guess I’d better stack this. If you help me, I’ve got some herbal tea Verity gave me chilling in a jar, down in the lake.”
“Herbal tea from Verity? That could be dangerous.” Martin stood up and started helping her stack. “Does it have mind-altering properties?”
“Just a blend for relaxation and calming, she said.” Naomi frowned, considering. “Guess if we start seeing angels, we’ll know she lied.”
“Any cookies to go along with it?”
A smile lifted her mouth again, and this time, her heart. Martin might be blunt, plainspoken to a fault, and sparing with his compliments, but he was forever angling for her cookies, and his praise of them was extravagant. It stroked her ego and satisfied her nurturing soul. Small moments of joy. Breath by breath. This was how to survive now.
They worked until the newly split wood was stacked, and then took a break to sit side-by-side in the Adirondack chairs Naomi had set up under a huge old cottonwood tree. Naomi produced the promised tea and the gingersnap cookies she’d baked yesterday with mixed intentions, half-planning to send them with Piper, half-planning to eat them all herself in an orgy of self-indulgent self-pity. This option was better. She’d splurged and traded for some of the spelt flour Ignacio had just started harvesting and grinding, and the result was delicious. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, listening to Martin hum appreciatively as he munched, enjoying the peace of the summer morning.
With her eyes closed, she could feel Piper, her bright and burning girl, there in her chest. Hades pressed against her leg and laid his big head in her lap. She curved an arm around him, using the comfort he gave her to send a pulse of love and apology along the connection between her and Piper. Experimentation over the last couple of months had taught them that Piper might not get the message right away, at that exact moment, but it would be there waiting for her when she chose to focus on the bond. It wasn’t the goodbye Naomi should have given her, but it was better than nothing.
A rustle overhead, followed by a series of low, chuckling notes, made her open her eyes. The raven she called Loki perched on a branch just a few feet above them, glossy black feathers sleek and handsome. He cocked his head inquisitively at her, eyes darting to the last cookie on the plate. She picked it up, broke it into pieces, and stood. “I’ll share. But it’ll cost you.”
She reached up, and felt a thrill when he took a chunk of cookie without hesitation. It had taken her weeks to get him to take food from her hand. She fed him several more pieces, then withheld the last. “Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to keep tabs on Piper.” She focused on Piper, on her bright hair and way of moving, on the sound of her voice and the lilt of her laughter, then offered the impressions to Loki and imagined him watching her daughter. Loki ruffled his feathers, head tilting from side to side in interest. As always, she could feel his intelligence and curiosity, could sense the surprisingly sophisticated structure of his mind. “Just report back to me from time to time. I’d really appreciate it.”
“Do you really think he can understand what you’re saying?”
Martin’s voice startled the young raven. Loki launched off the branch with an irritated “Kraa!” and flapped away, flying low over the lake and disappearing into the trees on the far ridge. Naomi watched him go, then sat back down. “No, I don’t think he understands my words. But he may understand my intent.” She smiled wryly. “Not that it’ll do much good. Even if he did follow Piper and keep an eye on her, I don’t speak raven.”
She changed the subject. “So, I’m pretty sure you had something other than ‘teach a crazy woman to chop wood then listen to her cry’ on your to-do list this morning. What am I taking you away from?”
Martin shrugged, and she detected frustration in the movement. “Not much. Thomas and I need to talk. He wants to increase our perimeter security, and I don’t think there’s any way to do that. Not here, anyway. The area is too wide-open, and there aren’t enough of us to pull off the patrolled boundaries he has in mind.”
“He’s still angry about Piper and her group walking in and taking control.”
“Yeah, he is. We’re more prepared for that scenario now, but he still thinks we could mount a defense against a larger hostile force, and I think it’s dangerous to think that way. Our best chance is to clear out if we’re faced with superior numbers and fire power. We need bolt holes, places we can shelter and hide until the danger passes. Thomas and I need to reach a meeting of the minds on it so we can have a community meeting and give folks instructions.”
“Hmm.” A frown creased the skin of her forehead. “We’ve lost so much. It’s understandable folks would want to stand and fight, defend what little we have left.”
“Understandable, but stupid. It’s not worth it to die defending things that can be replaced. Food and shelter are important, but people are irreplaceable.”
“I agree.” She raised a stern eyebrow. “But telling people they’re stupid isn’t a good way to get them to listen to you or to do what you want.”
Martin made an impatient sound. “Sugar-coating it wastes time. I say it like I see it. You know that.”
“I do. That’s why you should let me do the talking when the time comes. You and Thomas get your ducks in a row, and I’ll talk at the community meeting, let people know what the recommendations are. They need to know we understand, and that the choice will ultimately rest with them whether to hide or stand and fight, but we can’t take care of each other if we’re all dead.”
Martin’s lips lifted. “You’re plenty blunt yourself, in case you didn’t notice.”
“You’ve rubbed off.” It felt so good, to focus outside herself and her heartache over Piper. “Do you know how Rowan’s doing with Quinn and that medicinal herb garden? Or where Alder’s at with his solar panel project?”
They talked for the better part of an hour, discussing ideas and problem-solving. Now that people were starting to come to grips with the fact that life would never return to the way they had known it, it was time to look to the future, time to think beyond basic survival. People all over the community were starting to buzz with excitement over the projects that were taking shape, and the collective energy that was beginning to build was one of innovation, determination and hope. These people would probably never see another open gas station, but how could they adapt vehicles to run on alternative fuel? Before the plague, the green movement had been thriving in Colorado. Many homes in the city already had solar panels installed, and Alder was determined to salvage and install panels on every occupied home before snow fell again. And the world-wide-web might not be resurrected in their lifetimes, but how could they collect, organize and preserve the knowledge they were already in possession of?
Grace and Anne were knee-deep in the latter project, working together every day to gather books from the community, add them to the library’s collection and catalog them. Alder had installed a solar panel array to run the lights and a single computer at the library, but Anne was also creating a physical card catalog to back up the digital files. Some of the older teens were helping with the project, though Naomi had heard rumblings of problems there. Grace shared her father’s predilection for straight-talk and had very little patience with the giggling frivolity of the other teenage girls, especially the ones who persisted in casting Bambi-eyes in Quinn’s direction.
Thoughts of Grace and Quinn made her slip a sideways glance at Martin, wondering at his earlier disquiet. Had he started to suspect that the solemn-eyed baby girl with Quinn was Grace’s daughter? As always, the secret weighed heavily on her heart. Not for the first time, she regretted promising Grace she’d keep it.
Since the Woodland Park survivors had split between Carroll Lakes and Ignacio’s group on Turkey Creek, weeks could go by without the whole community coming together. Even at the larger gatherings, Quinn was adept at avoiding Grace, and, therefore, Martin. It was possible Martin hadn’t gotten a clear look at the baby, who resembled Grace to a startling degree. But what if he had? If he asked her straight out, Naomi had decided, she would tell him the truth. He would be furious, Grace would be furious, but Naomi would not lie, and not just because Martin would know. That baby was his granddaughter. He had a right to be a part of her life.
Naomi had watched Quinn from a distance, little Lark perched in the crook of his arm, shadowed by the young tweens who had arrived with Piper’s group – Elise’s twins, Sam and Beck. Like Grace and Quinn, Elise’s children had seen things children shouldn’t see on their journey here. If Piper hadn’t told Naomi that Beck was a girl – Becca – she wouldn’t have guessed. The three had become inseparable, and didn’t mingle with the Woodland Park kids. Naomi wished there was a way to reconcile the tension between the two groups, but she suspected only time and experience would resolve the situation. The kids here had lost loved ones, had suffered the loss of the life they knew, but the kids from the outside had experienced the violence and depravity of a world in transition. Quinn and Grace, Sam and Beck, would be forever marked by what they had seen and survived.
Martin gave a mighty stretch, then looked over at Naomi. “Why so quiet all of a sudden?”
She blocked the guilt that wanted to rise – too easy to detect in these times, and she didn’t want to explain herself. “Long night. Tired.”
“Naomi.” He waited until she looked over at him. “People are looking to you to take Jack’s place. You know that.”
Naomi rolled her eyes. “They should be looking to you. You had command experience in the Marines. The only thing I ever led was a PTA meeting.”
“You can trot that self-effacing shit out all day long, it’s not going to change anything. Résumes and past experience don’t mean squat. People are starting to trust what they feel, more and more, and this community’s instincts are pointing at you.”
He was right, and she didn’t need him to tell her this. Nor did she want to talk about it. Not today. They sat in silence for long moments, listening to the wind build into small gusts, watching birds flit about the business of a summer day, ripe and in full bloom. Then Martin slapped his thighs and stood up. He held his hand out to her.
“What do you say we go get drunk?”
She snorted and swatted at his hand, squinting up at the sun. “Get drunk! It’s not even noon!”
“Total breakdown of society, Naomi. Those rules no longer apply.”
She gazed up at him, at his outstretched hand. Then she stood up and took his hand, knowing it put her toes on the edge of that cliff. Exhilarating. Terrifying. “I’ve never been drunk.”
Surprising Martin was a rare thing, but she’d managed it. “You’re shittin’ me.”
“Nope. Not unless ‘tipsy’ counts.”
“It certainly does not. You are way overdue, then. Rite of passage.” He laced his fingers through hers and squeezed. “And I happen to know where a bottle of whiskey is that has your name on it.”
Naomi wrinkled her nose. Whiskey. Probably pretty different from the white wine she had occasionally enjoyed in the time before. “I thought Rowan confiscated all the alcohol for her tinctures.”
“She thinks she did. What she doesn’t know, and all that.” He gazed down at her, then tugged her a little closer. “Are you going to faint again if I tell you I plan to kiss you one of these days, sooner rather than later?”
Naomi’s heart gave a great and painful lurch. “I’m not sure. Probably not before. Maybe after.”
“Hmm. That could work in my favor. C’mon.” He pulled her along, moving towards her cabin door. “You can settle the animals, then –”
He broke off. His head snapped around, scanning the skies, his forehead creasing in concentration. “What the hell?”
She heard it, too – a deep, steady “thump-thump-thump” she hadn’t heard in over a year. The sound seemed to be coming from everywhere. She and Martin stepped farther into the clearing by the cabin, turning in circles with their heads tipped to the sky.
The helicopter seemed to explode from behind a ridge, the heavy throb of the rotors a surreal battery against their ears. It was flying low, coming at them fast. Martin shoved Naomi to the ground, crowding her against the cabin wall. She reached out and snagged Hades around the neck, yanking him to her side. Martin watched until the helicopter was almost on top of them, then spun around, covering his face with his arms, shielding Naomi’s body with his. It flew close overhead, buffeting them with air, dirt and noise.
When it had passed, Naomi staggered to her feet. They stood together in the clearing by her cabin, watching the helicopter continue north, then swing in a wide arc and head due east. Not until it was no longer visible did Naomi find her voice.
“My God! Where do you think it came from?”
Martin’s face, so young a moment ago, so old now, remained tipped to the sky as he answered. “Fort Carson, I’d bet. It was a Black Hawk.” He spared her a bleak glance. “That whiskey’s going to have to wait, honey. We need to get everyone together. This changes everything.”