Page 130 of The Unlikely Pair
An hour. We’ve only got to survive another hour of the biting, nipping cold. We’ve survived so much worse.
Time seems to slow to a crawl. We pace, trying to keep warm. The forest around us is still as if holding its breath. I strain my ears for the sound of approaching aircraft, my eyes searching the sky. The wait is agonizing, hope and fear warring in my chest.
To distract myself, I push my mind forward to what rescue might bring.
“We need to get our story straight,” I say in a low voice.
Harry jerks his head up. “What do you mean?”
“We’re going to be interrogated by security agencies once we arrive back in the UK.”
“We tell them everything,” Harry says.
I quirk my eyebrow with meaning. “Everything?”
“Well…besides that,” he says.
“So when they ask how things were between us, we say we squabbled initially but then learned to work together?” I ask.
“Yes. That seems close enough to the truth,” Harry says.
“But we don’t go into detail about how we managed to satisfy one particular necessity,” I say.
“No. I feel it would be prudent to keep that to ourselves,” Harry’s voice is stiff.
“You can trust me, Harry,” I say.
Harry looks at me. “I know I can,” he says finally.
He reaches out to take my hand into his.
And we stay that way, pressed together, our hands entwined.
The sky starts to lighten gradually, turning gray and then painted in hues of pink and gold.
“Is that a helicopter?” Harry asks.
The sun has just peeked over the horizon, setting the clouds ablaze with vibrant oranges and reds.
We both crane our necks, still holding hands, to get a better view of the helicopter beating its way towards us.
It’s gray in color, not black, and as it swoops closer, it becomes easy to see the Union Jack displayed proudly on its fuselage.
My eyes prickle with tears at the familiar red, white, and blue. The elements of the flags of England, Scotland, and Ireland combine to form the flag representing the United Kingdom. The symbol of home.
While the helicopter swoops towards us, Harry is still holding my hand.
And I notice the exact moment he drops it.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Harry
It’s utter chaos.
The helicopter blades beat wildly overhead, throwing pine needles, dirt, and snow into the air, stinging our faces. The deafening whir of the engines fills the air, drowning out all other sounds. Toby and I step back, shielding our faces from the onslaught of debris, squinting against the wind.
As the rotors slow, the side door of the helicopter slides open, and four men and women dressed in the uniform of the Royal Navy jump out and come rushing over to us, their guns at the ready.
