Flying Home

That made her snort. “Oh, a case of ‘what are you going to believe, me or your lying ears?’ Is that it?”

He stared at her, and then burst out laughing. She watched him, finally finding the humor in what she’d said, but she didn’t laugh. The best she could do was offer an apology. “Peace?”

“Yes,” he said, and she felt the plane turn slightly to her left, dipping into the snow streaked grayness around them.

“What are you doing? I thought we were managing to get toward the edges of this storm?”

“We are,” he said, but without a lot of conviction in his voice.

“Then why are you looking concerned?” she prodded as the plane dipped even more. “Come on, you can tell me. I won’t get upset, just tell me the plain, honest truth.”

He hesitated, which didn’t bode well for what he was going to say if he did what she asked. She braced herself and the howling wind was almost drowning out the sound of the motors. “Okay, we should be breaking out of this, at least, we should have broken out of it by now, but we haven’t, and the mountains are there, far too close. So, I have to maneuver a bit, and it might make the plane roll.”

“Roll?” She envisioned going head over heels in the plane as it did a giant loop in the sky.

“Shouldn’t have said that. I mean I’m going to have to angle more than normal, and you might feel a shifting of center. But I have to do it.”

“Okay, okay, I can understand that,” she said quickly. “Sure, that makes sense. Go ahead and do it.”

Gage cast her a glance and said, “Thank you, I will.” Then he focused his full attention on the controls.

Things seemed to be just what he said, that dipping, then leveling, then dipping again, mostly on his side, then she heard a muttered oath under his breath. He pressed something on his earpiece.

“What’s happening?” she asked, but he wasn’t talking to her.

He was back on the radio, speaking rapidly, but this time she could tell he was trying to make a connection. He said his call letters over and over again, waited, then tapped the screen several times before he started to talk again. A mishmash of unintelligible words to her. He must have made contact, but as far as she could tell, none of what he was saying was good.

When she thought he was finished trying the radio, she asked, “How bad is it?”

He shook his head as if to silence her, then he was speaking into the radio again. “Roger, roger!” He had made contact, listened, then shook his head. “Negative on that.” He listened as he fought to keep the plane level again. “The edge?” he asked. “Temps dropped, too low.”

Merry turned from him, wishing he was smiling now and enjoying this, despite how much that had annoyed her earlier. He was grim, intent on the words coming into his ears from the headset and the readings on the panel.

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