EPILOGUE
THE FOUR OF THEM WERE QUIET AS BRAD
piloted the 'copter back toward the city, and though
he had a million questions, something about their
silence didn't invite conversation. Chris and Jill were
both staring out the hatch window at the spreading
fire that had been the estate, their expressions grim.
Barry was slumped against the cabin wall, looking
down at his hands like he'd never seen them before.
The new girl was quietly moving among them, treating
their wounds without saying a word.
Brad kept his mouth shut, still feeling crappy about
taking off earlier. He'd been through hell since then,
flying around in circles and watching the fuel gauge
slowly drop. It had been a total nightmare, and he had
to take a piss like nobody's business.
And then that monster. . .
He shuddered. Whatever it had been, he was glad it
was dead. It had taken all of his nerve not to fly away
the second he'd laid eyes on it and as far as he was
concerned, he deserved a little consideration for managing
to kick the launcher out the door.
He glanced back at the silent foursome, wondering
if he should tell them about the weird call he'd gotten
over the radio. Right after the rookie had screamed
something about a heliport through the static, a clear,
solid signal had come in, a male voice calmly giving
him the exact coordinates. The guy had been listening
in, which was weird, but the fact that he knew the
location well enough to give Brad directions was
downright spooky.
He frowned, trying to remember the mystery man's
name. Thad? Terrence?
Trent. That's it, he said his name was Trent.
Brad decided that it would keep for another day.
For now, he just wanted to go home.
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