Page 9 of Natalie's Nighthawk

After searching quietly for a while, Natalie said, “So, I couldn’t help but notice everybody’s reaction to you,”Shit.Here come the usual questions.“Heard someone mention Marcus Rayne. They seemed infatuated with your group. What’s that about?” Marcus Rayne was the actor he had rescued off the side of a cliff after the man had fallen twenty feet while hiking and broken his leg. Rayne had been so grateful that he’d made a sizable donation to the Nighthawks, which ran largely off the generosity of people and fundraisers. They never accepted payment for any rescue.

“Don’t you watch the news?” Frankly, he was incredulous that she hadn’t heard about that particular rescue. He was still popping up in the news cycles. Especially now that Marcus’ newest Titan superhero movie would premiere the following week. It was big news to them. The superhero needing to be rescued by a team of real-life superheroes was an entertainment reporter’s wet dream.

“No. I don’t bother with the news too often. It’s all so depressing.”

“Marcus Rayne fell down a cliff while hiking in the Upper Peninsula a few months ago and broke his leg. My Nighthawks got him out.”

“Bet there was more to it than that,” she remarked, ponytail swinging as she walked. He absentmindedly grabbed her hand to help her over a fallen log, tingles shooting up his arm. He heard her breath catch. She must have felt the connection too.

“Just another day on the job for us,” he stated, reluctantly releasing her hand. He hoped that would satisfy her curiosity for now. He didn’t want to go into it.

They walked in comfortable silence till she asked, “So … about my drawing?” He winced; she was going for all the gut punches.

“Ummm,” he stammered.

“I’m glad you kept it and that it inspired you. You named your team for it, right?”

“Um … Yeah. I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between your story of the rescue of the old man and a typical search and rescue team; doing what is right, risking their lives for someone else. My Nighthawks also race out to help when there is a cry for aid. The search and rescue motto is ‘So others may live’, and we strive to answer any call for help.”

“And there’s always plenty of those.” A depressing fact, but true. He sensed her mind had turned to the missing kids and the disaster that would hit the town hard if there wasn’t a positive outcome.

“Hey.” He stopped walking and faced her. The fiery highlights in her hair were shining in the sunlight streaming through the trees. Placing a hand on her cheek, he looked into her eyes and reassured her, “Wewillfind them.”

She nodded once, blinking back her tears and taking a deep breath. After pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, he slid his hand slowly down her arm and grasped her hand again to continue walking. His eyes were always searching, his senses attuned to his surroundings. Still, he couldn’t help but appreciate the feeling of her small hand in his. Somehow, it just fit.

Upon arriving at the ruins Graham wanted to search, they fanned out looking for anything that might indicate the kids had passed through. There wasn’t much left of the old homestead. A stone chimney and a few crumbling walls. There was a hole in the ground at one corner of the house indicative of an old root cellar.

Outside the house, the forest was attempting to take the land back and young saplings were thriving. There was so much new growth that he just missed falling into a well some poor homesteader had dug. He peered through the holes in the plywood cover someone had thrown over it, unable to see the bottom. Impressive dig. He called out to Colin and Lucy, shining his flashlight into the dark pit. He prayed they weren’t down there. He didn’t think they were since the ground around it was undisturbed and the cover still intact. If they had trudged through here, there would be some indication. He searched for the usual signs of human disturbances, but there was nothing.

He glanced toward Natalie; she had stopped dead in her tracks, her head slightly tilted to the left as if listening to something. He quickly crossed to her. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” she answered slowly, squinting into the woods ahead. “I thought I might have heard … music? Is that possible?”

“Don’t know. Maybe.”

“Could it be one of your team?”

“Not a chance. We are trained to use all our senses when on a SAR mission. My guys would never be listening to music.”

“Hmmm. Can we maybe go in the direction I heard it?”

“Sure. Lead on.”

After a few steps, she stopped. “There. I heard it again.”

“Can you pinpoint more accurately where?”

“This way,” she continued.

It wasn’t long before Graham started to hear the music too. “Is that … Christmas carols?” Natalie asked, hope lacing her voice. “Is someone singing Christmas carols? Could it be them?”

They were moving faster now through the undergrowth, growing closer to the sound. They could hear “Frosty” clearly, but still couldn’t locate exactly where it was coming from.

Natalie called out their names and nearly collapsed in relief when they heard a faint “Here!”

“Oh my God. It is them!” she squeaked. “We hear you! Where are you? Keep talking so we can find you!”

“Here! Here!” they cried. “We’re down here!” Natalie would have kept walking, drawn to the frightened voices, had Graham not reached out to stop her. There in front of them was a large drop-off, a cave-in of some old mine. Graham had been afraid of this.

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