Page 255 of Track of Courage

In a moment, she had the transceiver open.

The light waned, and a glance out the window said the sun had surrendered.Oh,Dawson,please don’tget lost.She found a flashlight in another drawer and flicked it on. Shined it on the back of the handheld.

A circuit board and wires and fuses and—bingo. One of the fuses had turned black.

She should have taken a look at this before Dawson left. Except, a search through the drawers didn’t unearth any extra fuses.

Maybe they had tinfoil somewhere. She got up and rooted around the kitchen. Nothing.

A pantry held dishes and foodstuffs, mostly canned goods—wait. There, in a basket, a few lunch-sized Cheetos bags.

She grabbed one, opened the bag, munched a Cheeto—Goldie would have a coronary at the free license she’d taken on her eating—and then took the bag into the office. She cut off a piece and wrapped the foil around the fuse, then put it back in.

It snapped and burned out.

What? Shining her light on it, she discovered the problem—the metal prong touched the fuse and grounded it out.

Taking the fuse back out, she inserted the edge of the screwdriver and bent the metal, ever so slightly, away from the fuse.

Then she ate another Cheeto, wrapped more foil around the fuse, and inserted it. Turned the radio on.

Joy to the world and hallelujah, it lit up. She almost wanted to sing.

She depressed the mic. “Hello? Hello? Anyone out there? Hello?”

Static.

She tried again. “This is the...” She looked around, searching for a call sign, and spotted a calendar turned to March with the name Bowie Resorts on top. It showed a man standing in gaiters in the middle of a frothy river, hauling in a fish.

Bowie. That sounded right. “Bowie Outpost. Anyone there?”

More silence. Shoot, she’d really hoped—

“Hello, Bowie Outpost. Is this a Mayday?” Male voice.

“Um. Yes. Sort of. I mean ... no one is hurt, except at Woodcrest. There’s this little girl. But...”

“We know about the little girl, Bowie Outpost. Are you in danger?”

She looked out the window. No Dawson, and her chest tightened. “Yes. Yes, we are. My ... my friend is out in the storm, and he’s not back yet, and ... I’m worried.”

“Understood, Bowie Outpost. And your name?”

“Keely. Keely...” Aw, this could go south, if the person on the other end knew anything about Bliss. Which sounded ridiculous,but something simply gripped her, and suddenly she found herself saying, “Dalton. Keely Dalton.”

“Keely, can you tell me if you were in a plane accident a number of days ago?”

Oh. “Um, yes. Uh, is this—” What was the name of Dawson’s friend—“Moose? Is this Moose?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s Moose. Sit tight, Keely Dalton. We’re coming to get you.”

She set the handheld in her lap and blew out a breath. Okay. So, it was over.

Warm clothes, a bath, pizza, civilization.

Back to her life.

Then why, suddenly, did her throat tighten, her eyes burn?