Page 62 of Blind Prophet

“Won’t turn on,” he announces, waving a phone in his other hand. “Most likely heat damage. I’m sure there’d be zero signal anyway.”

He’s right about the signal. I have no idea where our position is relative to the nearest cell towers, but unless we’re close, there’s a significant likelihood of signal blockage from the mountain terrain.

I scan our surroundings, noting escape routes, potential cover positions, and lines of sight. The training never really leaves you, even when you’re supposedly just waiting for rescue. There’s no need to take cover, as he’s likely correct. If someone purposefully tampered with the hydraulic lines, it would be nearly impossible to plan where he’d choose to make a crash landing, wouldn’t it?

“Here’s your shoe.” He throws it through the air, and it lands silently on a patch of grass near my feet. Soot covers the leather, but other than appearing like it’s been near heavy smoke, the heel and sole are intact, and it’s functional.

He disappears, then reappears with a rolled blanket beneath one arm and a small white box with a red first aid symbol on it.

“Comms are out. Wires got smoked in the explosion.”

“How long do you think until first responders arrive?”

“Not too long. After my mayday call, air traffic control notified the Air Force Rescue Coordination Center. Activated a local search and rescue team. Given our location, it’s likely the Colorado Army National Guard will deploy their High-Altitude Army National Guard Aviation Training site specialists. A scouting plane will be on its way soon. You don’t need to worry. Help is on the way.”

“How do you know all that?”

“I didn’t buy my helicopter pilot’s license. I earned it.” His smug expression has me rolling my eyes, although I should be happy he studied and earned his license. I likely owe my life to his efforts.

He wiggles the white metal box. “I put some flares in here. If it gets darker and they haven’t found us yet, I’ll shoot them off.”

“Why not now?”

“Don’t want to waste them. If the fixed plane flies by, and it doesn’t appear they saw us, I’ll shoot one off.” He scans the area. “They’d have to be blind not to see us, though.” He opens the metal box and lifts a water bottle. “You thirsty?”

Given the stream, we were never in danger of dying of thirst, but I’ll gladly take a bottle of water. Although looking at the yellowed label, I question the age. We might be better off emptying it and using it to collect fresh mountain water.

He spreads the blanket out on the boulder and gives a second blanket to me. “In case you get cold.”

“You don’t have a winter coat either.” I don’t mean to sound as reproachful as I do.

“I planned to land and go to the office.”

“Crashing wasn’t on your bingo card?”

“Emergency landing. We didn’t crash.”

I open my mouth and wrinkle my brow, blown away that he’s going to argue this point.

“We can agree to disagree,” he says at the same time I relent with the saying, “Potato potahto.”

I sit on the blanket, leaving my shoes on so my toes don’t freeze.

He returns to the blanket, situating himself close beside me, and I wish he would lift me onto his lap again.

“We’ve got nothing to do but talk. Nowhere to go.” He leans forward, untying the laces on his dress shoes. “Can we call a truce? Ask questions and get answers.”

“Who are you, and what did they do with Dorian?”

“I’m being serious.”

A niggling voice in my head reminds me I have questions, too. And there’s a team back home expecting me to return with answers. They aren’t picking up anything of value from the bugs I planted back at Dorian’s home, given he’s here with me.

“I’ll make you a deal. You ask a question, I get a question.”

He grins, and I know what he’s thinking. Our third night together, we met at a pub and played guess which of the three statements is true, going back and forth for hours. Tit for tat always got us far…until it didn’t.

“Truth,” he says. “Let’s keep it simple. One question, one answer. Back and forth.”

---