Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“Beneath its wings…” I repeat it again and again as if the cave might answer back.
My resolve wavers. The edge of despair gnaws at my spirit.
Where could it be? What am I missing?
I peer closer at the rounded walls, the tunnels shaped by external temperatures, the flow of meltwater, and the overarching effects of climate change.
Nothing.
There’s nothing here.
As I start to turn back, my light catches something, a formation unlike the rest. A crevice, hidden beneath an overhang shaped uncannily like the outstretched wings of a bird.
My heart surges with a renewed pulse of adrenaline. That has to be it, the shape too symbolic to be coincidence.
Shivering, not just from the chill but from excitement, I inch closer. The ice around the opening is thick, a barrier formed by the slow tears of the cave. My fingers scrape against it, the effort sending stabs of pain through my numb extremities.
I dig, clawing with a desperation born of fear that this might lead to nothing.
Ice chips away under the assault of my determination, each fragment a tiny victory. The aperture yields slowly, grudgingly, as if reluctant to relinquish its secret.
Removing the gloves makes it easier. And more painful.
Until my fingers brush against something that doesn’t belong.
Not ice, not rock, but something man-made. Frozen rubber? Plastic? The shock of it cuts through the fog of exhaustion.
Whatever it is, it’s entombed in a small, icy cage formed by the dripping water over countless years.
With trembling hands, I pull and scratch and slowly pick away its frozen shackles. Each small piece revealed sends a shiver of triumph and dread through me.
What secrets does this mystery hold? What truths, frozen in time, await their exhuming? The weight of the moment presses down on me. Solving the riddle holds the promise of answers and, perhaps, the key to restoring the power.
Maybe there’s a journal. One that will unlock the unknowns about how Leo and Kody are related, how Monty is connected to this, and the identity of his other brother.
At last, I remove enough ice to reveal a heavy-duty dry bag. Within the transparent material lies a book.
My fingernails tear to the quick in my haste to pry open the thick, frozen plastic. I wipe blood on my snow pants and reach inside.
Thin binding. Old, flimsy pages. My pulse goes berserk as I force myself to slow down and remove it carefully.
The cover boasts the image of a Turbo Beaver bush plane.
The flight manual.
I don’t believe it. If this is a sick joke, my heart won’t survive it.
Too stiff and frozen, the pages won’t turn. My hands have no feeling.
Breathe, Frankie. Calm down.
At last, I crack open a section of the book, revealing a diagram of the fuel system. I bring it to my mouth and huff hot breaths until the paper softens enough to flip to another page.
More diagrams, illustrations of gauges, descriptions, and explanations on the electrical switch panel, the flight control system, take-off power time limit, the throttle lever, engine stuff…Oh, my God, this is pure fucking gold, promising the sky to those daring enough to claim it.
Why would Denver leave this here? If he didn’t want us to find it, why not destroy it?
When he uttered the riddle, he knew he wouldn’t live. Some part of him must’ve wanted to give his boys a chance to survive. I don’t know how to process that, but I’ll take it.
I clutch the manual to my chest. Time is a luxury I don’t have, with the storm’s breath already frosting the air outside, turning black into white, life into death. I have to get back to Leo, to share this sliver of hope, this promise of flight.
But there’s something else in the bag.
I shove my hand inside, curling frostbitten fingers around a small, smooth object. Artificial. Metal or hard plastic.
A thumb drive.
Why? What could be on it? Bank records? Passwords or keys in the outside world? Answers to our questions? To Denver’s history? To every mystery his sons never hoped to solve?
Right now, it’s as useful as a stone, without power, without purpose.
But the manual…That’s our salvation, our freedom. With it, we can do more than survive. We can escape, soar above the hills that threaten to bury us here.
Gently, I return the treasures to the waterproof bag and stow it in my pack. As I work the gloves back on, the lantern’s flame starts to gutter.
“No, no, no. Don’t you dare—”
The light burns out, dousing the cave in darkness.
“Shit!” I try with no avail to relight it.
Out of oil.
Just my luck.
Into the pack it goes, freeing my hands to hold the rifle.
The return journey through the labyrinthine tunnels feels like a descent into madness. Shadows cling to my heels, whispering their deadly threats, my heart a frenzied drumbeat, echoing the frantic need to see Leo again, to meld my lips with his in a kiss that will silence all doubts, to prove to him he was right to trust me with this quest.