Page 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

A bigail fought against the branches woven into the cargo net, and with each passing minute she grew more furious about Mackenzie’s delayed return. She wrestled with the final branch, and it sprang back, sending her sprawling.

She was stunned at first and it took her a moment to get to her hands and knees. “Mackenzie, where the hell are you?” Abigail wondered if Mackenzie was taking his time on purpose. He could be out there, resting, until she’d done all the hard work. She stood up, wiped the sweat from her brow and flung the branch as hard as she could into the scrub.

“MACKENZIE!” she yelled until her throat hurt.

Her dry lips cracked, and she tasted blood. She sought out a water bottle and drank liberally. Charlie still slept in his chair, the pink envelope was sitting precariously on his lap, and Abigail worried that the paper might fall into the fire. She rescued it and his notepad to a place a good distance away. But not before she peeked at the envelope and noted it wasn’t sealed.

A glance at Charlie confirmed he still hadn’t moved, and she wrestled with the idea of reading it. It took all her willpower not to. She did the right thing though and placed it back on the notepaper.

With absolutely nothing else to do, she flopped in the chair opposite Charlie. A knot right between her shoulder blades was so uncomfortable that she twisted her shoulders from side to side, trying to release it.

She scanned the bushes behind the plane, preparing an angry torrent of words to blast at Mackenzie upon his return.

“Stupid idiot,” she mumbled.

She slipped her shoes off and massaged the balls of her feet. They felt foreign, aching and sore.

Smoke drifted in her direction, and she fanned it away. But the persistent coils continued to invade her space.

“I’m going to kill him when he gets back!”

Now I’m going nuts talking to myself.

“Hey Charlie, are you awake?”

Charlie’s sweat-dampened hair clung to his powder-white forehead. She knew nothing about his history but sensed his eternal loneliness and hoped her life was never as desolate as his seemed to be.

Glancing at the bush behind the plane, she willed Mackenzie to materialise. Being alone was not in her repertoire.

Come on, where are you?

The wind shifted direction and as the smoke began to waft across Charlie’s face, she glared at him, anticipating the moment he opened his eyes. But he didn’t move. The smoke curled in miniature donuts on his cheeks, drifted up over his forehead and continued its journey. Abigail’s eyes widened.

“Charlie?”

He remained completely still.

She inched toward him and touched his shoulder. “Charlie?”

His head wavered but his eyes remained closed. Cringing, she felt his forehead and recoiled at his clammy skin. “Charlie. Oh God, Charlie, wake up.” She shook him harder, and his head wobbled loosely.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

She forced herself to place two fingers against his throat to feel for a pulse.

Nothing.

“MACKENZIE!”

She ran to the edge of the bush.

“Charlie’s dead. Where the hell are you? ”

Her body trembled. Tears streamed down her face.

She fell to her knees and released a gut-wrenching scream of despair.