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)
He told us we would die before the thaw. I didn’t believe him.
But now…
We don’t talk about it. Instead, we tackle each day like the beginning of a great quest. A fresh start to a new life. In that vein, we’ve made it our mission to salvage pieces of our existence and stow them in the bush plane that promises escape.
I’ve been gathering Wolf’s belongings with a desperate fervor, things like his purple housecoat, dried-up sharpies, sketchbooks, hand-drawn illustration of the cockpit, and saxophone. I fear something irreplaceable might be accidentally destroyed as we break apart the cabin, bit by bit, burning its pieces to keep the fire going in the hearth.
We have months before we can attempt a takeoff. Loading the plane now might be getting ahead of ourselves. But it fuels our will to survive. Keeps the embers of our future alight in the darkness.
As I follow Leo through the frigid workshop, we pass the generator room, still haunted by Denver’s death, and emerge into the rear garage. Here, amidst shivery candlelight, the plane sits dormant.
Crouched beneath one of the wings, Kody lifts his head, and those coal-black eyes run me through.
A week’s worth of tension strangles the air between us. Even from across the garage, I sense his unease. I feel it in the bones of my soul.
Breaking eye contact, I breeze past him, still angry enough to hold a grudge.
Serves him right for his secrecy and stonewalling, plotting with the devil behind my back, and gambling his life. All of that after he yelled at me for confronting the very monster he was conspiring with.
I don’t blame him for Denver’s death. That burden is mine alone. But I’m not ready to forgive him for the rest. I need him to understand that our relationship won’t work without honesty, communication, and togetherness.
Leo helps me into the plane’s cargo hold, a silent witness to my conflict with his brother. He’s aware of the unresolved issues between us, but in matters of survival, it’s not a priority.
We add our collection of memories to a crate in the plane, which already contains Kody’s vodka recipes, Monty’s slippers, and my scrapbook, full of journal entries and hair samples, including the strands I plucked from Denver’s hairbrush.
If death finds us here, or if the skies claim us while we’re airborne, I hope the secrets Denver took to the grave will be unraveled by those who discover our remains.
Questions about Denver’s past haunt me day and night. What compelled him to move to this unsurvivable place and descend into madness? Had he always been a kidnapping, raping psychopath?
How are Leo, Kody, and Wolf—who were raised by Denver after he abducted their mothers—related to him and one another by blood? What about the unknown brother of Denver and Monty? Why did Monty never mention having siblings? What did Monty take from Denver to provoke him to take me in return? Are the five women before me connected to Monty, too?
Am I still Monty’s wife, or has he let me go? Did he look for me or accept the clues Denver left behind, believing I willingly left him?
The unknowns are a labyrinth with no end, and the answers may forever elude us.
Unless we can decipher Denver’s cryptic final words.
Beneath its wings lie the answers you seek in a cage of ice and echoes.
Obsessed, we’ve written this riddle everywhere—on the plane, our skin, the walls, the floors. Kody has been meticulously removing panels from the wings of the Turbo Beaver, searching for clues.
The phrase Beneath its wings taunts us. If not inside the wings, could it mean beneath the ground the plane rests upon? In the impenetrable permafrost?
The machinery required to build this place is long gone, ruling out anything hidden below. Denver didn’t have the tools to bury things under the workshop. It sits on a pad of gravel.
Leo kisses me on the forehead, a brief comfort in the cold, before hopping out and joining Kody.
I settle into the pilot’s seat, dwarfed by the daunting instrument panel, and rest my gloved hands on the U-shaped wheel. The complexity of the controls, blank screens, gauges, dials, and knobs—it’s all so utilitarian. Intimidating. Alien. Built like a tank.
To fly this without piloting experience, simulators, an aircraft manual, or instruction is a terrifying prospect.
Impossible, Wolf would say.
But we have no choice.
When the time comes, we’ll have to learn through trial and error, which in aviation can be unforgiving.
Running my fingers over the screen before me, I wonder about its purpose. Could it be navigation?
“Hey.” I pop my head out the open door. “If we can power this up, we might have GPS. Maybe comms, too.”
“Working on that, love.” Leo’s timbre, smooth as silk, drifts from behind the plane.
I catch sight of Kody, our gazes clashing as he scowls in his beautiful, broody way.