Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Another low murmur rumbles past my ears. This time, it emanates from somewhere deeper, as if vibrating from the very earth.
Or the heavens above.
That sound is not coming from my brother.
“You hear that?” I’m on my feet, flying across the porch to the railing.
In the distance, high above the icy hills, a small silhouette glints against the purple sky, creating a brief flash the size of a sparkling star.
This is no star.
The sound, muffled by distance and the thick, cold air, is human-made. The object moves steadily, leaving a faint trail of condensation in its wake.
I’m startled by the sight of it, utterly gobsmacked, my reaction delayed and steeped in denial.
Leo sprints past me, down the stairs, and along the path to the hills, yelling and waving his arms.
“A plane.” Frankie’s burst of excitement at my side snaps me out of my daze. “Here? This close to Hoss? What are the odds?”
“Zero.” I grip the railing with white knuckles.
As the plane’s journey across the sky takes it farther and farther away, I know there isn’t a chance in hell anyone on board can see my desperate brother running through the tundra.
Hoss is veiled in the shadows of the hills. No lights glow in the windows. No SOS fires burn on the property. Even if the cabin is spotted from the sky, there’s no indication of human life here, let alone human life in duress.
“They don’t see us.” She slips under my arm and hugs my waist, her voice hollow. “It’s too dark. We’re too far away.”
“Yeah.” I cup the back of her head, pulling her tightly against me. “Maybe they’ll come back.”
Leo, barely a dot in the tundra, no longer chases the hope in the sky. He must be spitting mad, punching the air, his eyes wild, and lips curled in a snarl. Good thing he has to walk all the way back. It’ll give him time to cool off.
“Want to help me build some trenches?” I tug on the thick, red braid in her hair.
“Trenches?” She stares up at me, the devastation on her face morphing into confusion before dawning with realization. “To build a SOS signal?”
“Sure. What do you say?”
She clutches the rabbit-fur ear flaps of my hat with both hands and pulls, bringing my head to her level. When my mouth is within reach, she kisses me, hard and deep, with a passion that sets my blood on fire.
I eat her up, giving her my tongue, my heat, and my hope.
If, by some miracle, that plane returns, I’ll make damn sure they see us.
We work through the day and long into the night, carving our plea into a canvas of untouched snow. Every shovelful weighs as heavy as the dark sky on our shoulders. Each movement, a war against the dropping temperatures, saps our strength and paints exhaustion in the hollows of our eyes.
Fatigue isn’t just a side effect. It’s a living, breathing opponent, infiltrating our bones and slowing our joints with calorie-deficient cruelty.
Frankie battles alongside us, her spirit far livelier than her body. The relentless cold seems to claw at her more fiercely, chattering her teeth and fucking with her coordination. She pushes herself too hard, and I worry she’ll pass out.
“Frankie,” I growl for the hundredth time. “Take a break.”
“You take a break.”
I don’t know how all that stubbornness fits into such a small package.
While she helps me dig the waist-deep trenches, Leo hauls materials from the cabin and other buildings. To maximize the visibility, we’re filling the ruts with dark-colored debris, anything Leo can find that won’t be used as firewood.
Barrels, metal shelving, steel siding, trash, recyclables, ashes from the hearths, tarps, drapes, mattresses, old motor oil, paint, and wood stain—most of it is environmentally unfriendly, but it’s all we have to darken the trenches and make the letters stand out.
“Think of it like this.” She stabs her shovel into the snow and stumbles to remain upright. “We’re enjoying this beautiful, otherworldly view.” She motions at the northern lights above the hills. “And getting exercise in the process. We’re better off than city folks in cold climates.”
“How do you figure?” Leo tosses an old tire into the curve of a trench that stretches as long as the bush plane.
“Well, we aren’t shoveling dirty snow off a driveway while inhaling the fumes from a neighbor’s car as it warms up. We don’t have to drive on icy roads with thousands of commuters distracted by their phones. There are no snowplows throwing salt-treated slush onto our boots or traffic jams or noise pollution…” She sways.
The shovel tips out of her grasp, and she tumbles with it, face-planting in the trench.
My heart stills in my chest.
“Fuck.” I forge through the snow, stomping away the distance, and sweep her into my arms. “Frankie?”
She laughs, but it sounds like a sob as she buries her face in my coat. “I’ll never be strong enough.”