He shook his head. “It’s a box canyon. There’s no way out,” he said flatly. “The good news is, there’s water at the far end.”
She swallowed. Her eyes were huge with distress, almost eclipsing her face. “We can’t climb out, either?”
“It’s sheer rock.” He put his hands on his hips, looking around. “We need to move closer to the water, for convenience. There’s an overhang that will give us shade from the sun, and the ground underneath is sandier, so it’ll be more comfortable.”
Or as comfortable as they could get, sleeping in that small tent.
Wordlessly she nodded and began folding the tent. She did it briskly, without wasted movement, but he saw she was fighting for control. He stroked her upper arm, feeling her smooth, pliant skin, warm and slightly moist from her exertion. “We’ll be okay,” he reassured her. “We just have to hold out until someone sees our smoke and comes to investigate.”
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” she said shakily. “You said so yourself. And I only have four days until—”
“Until what?” he asked, when she stopped.
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” She stared blindly at the sky, at the clear blue expanse that was turning whiter as the hot sun climbed upward.
Four days until what? he wondered. What was going to happen? Was she supposed to do something? Was a terrorist attack planned? Would it go forward without her?
* * *
THE DOGLEG OF the canyon was about half a mile long, and the angle gave it more shade than where they had landed. They worked steadily, moving their camp, with Chance hauling the heaviest stuff. Sunny tried to keep her mind blank, to not think about Margreta, to focus totally on the task at hand.
It was noon, the white sun directly overhead. The heat was searing, the shade beneath the overhang so welcome she sighed with relief when they gained its shelter. The overhang was larger than she had expected, about twelve feet wide and deep enough, maybe eight feet, that the sunshine would never penetrate its depths. The rock sloped to a height of about four feet at the back, but the opening was high enough that Chance could stand up without bumping his head.
“I’ll wait until it’s cooler to get the rest,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s have half of one of your nutrition bars now, and I’ll try to get a rabbit for dinner.”
She rallied enough to give him a look of mock dismay. “You’d eat Peter Cottontail?”
“I’d eat the Easter Bunny right now, if I could catch him.”
He was trying to make her laugh. She appreciated his effort, but she couldn’t quite shake off the depression that had seized her when her last hope of getting out of here quickly had evaporated.
She had lost her appetite, but she dug out one of the nutrition bars and halved it, though she hid the fact that Chance’s “half” was bigger than hers. He was bigger; he needed more. They ate their spartan little meal standing up, staring out at the bleached tones of the canyon. “Drink all the water you want,” he urged. “The heat dehydrates you even in the shade.”
Obediently she drank a bottle of water; she needed it to get the nutrition bar down. Each bite felt as if it was getting bigger and bigger in her mouth, making it difficult to swallow. She resorted to taking only nibbles, and got it down that way.
After they ate, Chance made a small circle of rocks, piled in some sticks and leaves, both fresh and dead, and built a fire. Soon a thin column of smoke was floating out of the canyon. It took him no more than five minutes to accomplish, but when he came back under the overhang his shirt was damp with sweat.
She handed him a bottle of water, and he drank deeply, at the same time reaching out a strong arm and hooking it around her waist. He drew her close and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, nothing more, just held her comfortingly. She put her arms around him and clung, desperately needing his strength right now. She hadn’t had anyone to lean on in a long time; she had always had to be the strong one. She had tried so hard to stay on top of things, to plan for every conceivable glitch, but she hadn’t thought to plan for this, and now she had no idea what to do.
“I have to think of something,” she said aloud.
“Shh. All we have to do is stay alive. That’s the most important thing.”
He was right, of course. She couldn’t do anything about Margreta now. This damn canyon had saved their lives yesterday, but it had become a prison from which she couldn’t escape. She had to play the hand with the cards that had been dealt to her and not let depression sap her strength. She had to hope Margreta wouldn’t do anything foolish, just go to ground somewhere. How she would ever find her again she didn’t know, but she could deal with that if she just knew her sister was alive and safe somewhere.
“Do you have family who will worry?” he asked.
God, that went to the bone! She shook her head. She had family, but Margreta wouldn’t worry; she would simply assume the worst.
“What about you?” she asked, realizing she had fallen halfway in love with the man and didn’t know a thing about him.
He shook his head. “C’mon, let’s sit down.” With nothing to use for a seat, they simply sat on the ground. “I’ll take two of the seats out of the plane this afternoon, so we’ll be more comfortable,” he said. “In answer to your question, no, I don’t have anyone. My folks are dead, and I don’t have any brothers or sisters. There’s an uncle somewhere, on my dad’s side, and my mom had some cousins, but we never kept in touch.”
“That’s sad. Family should stay together.” If they could, she added silently. “Where did you grow up?”
“All over. Dad wasn’t exactly known for his ability to keep a job. What about your folks?”
She was silent for a moment, then sighed. “I was adopted. They were good people. I still miss them.” She drew a design in the dirt with her finger. “When we didn’t show up in Seattle last night, would someone have notified the FAA?”
“They’re probably already searching. The problem is, first they’ll search the area I should have been over when I filed my flight plan.”
“We were off course?” she asked faintly. It just kept getting worse and worse.
“We went off course looking for a place to land. But if anyone is searching this area, eventually he’ll see our smoke. We just have to keep the fire going during the day.”
“How long will they look? Before they call off the search?”
He was silent, his golden eyes narrowed as he searched the sky. “They’ll look as long as they think we might be alive.”
“But if they think we’ve crashed—”
“Eventually they’ll stop looking,” he said softly. “It might be a week, a little longer, but they’ll stop.”
“So if no one finds us within, say, ten days—” She couldn’t go on.
“We don’t give up. There’s always the possibility a private plane will fly over.”
He didn’t say that the possibility was slight, but he didn’t have to. She had seen for herself the kind of terrain they’d flown over, and she knew how narrow and easily missed this canyon was.
She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs, staring wistfully at the languid curls of gray smoke. “I used to wish I could go someplace where no one could find me. I didn’t realize there wouldn’t be room service.”
He