“No, staying together as a group is better.”
“You can’t see. I can’t walk, and Nancy can’t even stay awake,” Julie said. “He doesn’t need us, Andrew. We need him.”
“He wouldn’t leave the crash site.” Andrew shrugged. “It’s the first day.”
“If the plane was transmitting a signal, they should’ve been here by now,” Julie said in a trembling voice. “Something’s wrong, and Jack knows it.”
Andrew looked across the lake and kept squinting.
Julie broke out in tears. “This can’t be happening.”
Evening
The sun had set, and darkness surrounded the three remaining residents of the Chanterelle tree down by the shore. Jack hadn’t returned. Nancy was still asleep, and Julie had just checked Nancy’s pulse.
“Did you hear something just now?” Andrew asked.
“It sounded like an owl.”
“That’s a big owl,” Andrew mumbled.
“So, what was the fight about?”
Andrew sighed. “I told you, it was just two guys blowing off steam.”
“So you said,” Julie answered. “But what was the argument about?”
“What difference does it make?” Andrew responded. “Besides, he left well after that. It’s not like I scared him away or anything.”
“What was the argument about?”
Andrew took a few breaths before answering.
“He made some demeaning comments about Nancy, and I responded rather harshly, and he grabbed me by the collar,” Andrew claimed. “It’s no big deal.”
Julie exhaled loudly. “Are you sure it wasn’t the other way around?”
“I didn’t grab him.”
“No, I meant.” Julie exhaled. “Never mind. Did Jack specifically say that he saw people on the other side of the lake?”
“No, he said he saw movement,” Andrew answered. “Something black moving behind a cliff or something.”
“Maybe he meant debris from the plane. Perhaps he saw something we could use,” Julie said. “That could explain why he didn’t yell.”
“No, I don’t think that’s what he meant. He saw something dark moving in the shadows by a cliff close to the water. It had to be something big for him to notice.” Andrew chuckled. “Perhaps it’s Bigfoot.”
14 BIRTHDAYS
Sunday morning
George Stanton had a pounding headache—which he assumed was due to the lack of sleep—and he almost dozed off listening to the advice from a board member telling his boss, Michael Williams, how important using proper language, having a pleasant demeanor along with a professional appearance, and seeming as concerned and sympathetic as possible was when dealing with the press.
George wondered if the depressing atmosphere in the boardroom was due to the loss of lives, or the loss of financial potential. He assumed most of the board members were also shareholders.
Even though the Canadian authorities still searched for survivors, no one had much hope of finding any. Boats, helicopters, and drones had searched the entire Great Slave Lake that Saturday. Experts now presumed that the plane had sunk intact and nobody had survived the crash. The main focus had shifted on Sunday to being more a matter of locating the plane.
George had written several press statements the day before, and his boss had held a couple of further press briefings, but the media didn’t seem that interested in what little information the airline had provided. Instead, the media was focused on the Imam who not only was a passenger on the plane, but also had been highlighted in the media on several previous occasions arguing that Sharia law should be enforced in the American legal system.
In contrast to his colleagues, George managed to restrain himself from taking part in the many discussions of what might have happened on board the plane. He thought it was counterproductive to speculate at this stage. But he also knew it would be weeks, if not months, before the investigation finally revealed what had actually happened. The expected wait made him feel powerless.
The feeling made him think of his sister, who had recently been in a car crash and was now lying in the hospital in a coma. George was supposed to visit her with his parents this weekend, but due to the missing plane, he had no real alternative but to cancel the visit.
That thought reminded George of his father’s birthday this coming week, and he made a mental note not to congratulate him. He wasn’t going to repeat his mistake ever again. His father didn’t celebrate his birthday; instead, he celebrated the day he became an American citizen. The two occasions were only a few days apart. One year, George got the dates mixed up, and his father didn’t speak to him that day. His father rarely spoke at all, but when he did, he tried his best to hide his Japanese accent. However, on the day in question, his father had spoken more than ever—just not to George.
His father was a strange man.
15 ANGELA
Sunday morning
It didn’t rain, though the sun couldn’t break through the clouds.
Jack stood by the oddly shaped tree and looked at the sky, moving his head back and forth. Nancy and Andrew were still asleep. Julie had just woken up.
Julie blinked several times, then squinted, and smiled. “You came back.”
“It was too dark too walk last night, so we slept on the other side of the lake,” Jack said.” I yelled your names, but you didn’t hear me.”
“That was you,” Julie said. “I thought it was an owl.”
“That’s a big owl,” Jack said with a modest smile.
Julie’s jaw dropped. “Did you say we?”
“Me and Kevin.”
Jack pointed at the man who sat up against the sloping tree trunk and had his hands in his jacket pockets. Julie turned her head around and stared at the man with wide eyes.
“Hi. I’m Julie.”
“He told me your names.”
“So, how old are you, Kevin?” Julie asked.
“Forty,” Kevin mumbled.
“I’m twenty-ten myself.” Julie smiled.
“You’re thirty?” Kevin sounded surprised.
“No, I’m twenty-ten.” Julie smiled even bigger. “Are you married?”
Kevin barely shook his head.
“Kids?”
“What, are you writing a book?” Kevin sounded harsh.
“No, I’m just making small talk.” Julie seemed disappointed.
Jack looked at Julie then shrugged his nose and shook his head slightly.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a lighter, would you?” Jack asked Kevin.
“If I had a lighter, don’t you think I would have told you by now?”
Jack sniffed. “I just thought you might have a lighter since you’re wearing a jacket.”
“You think I should feel guilty for wearing a jacket?”
“I didn’t say that,” Jack responded.
“Are you cold, Jack?” Julie asked.
Jack shrugged. “I’m okay.”
“Perhaps we can make a fire? If you get me a couple of branches, and if I rub them long enough, I might be able to start a fire.”
“It’s too wet, Julie.”
“I don’t mind trying, Jack. Besides, I filled my pockets with grass yesterday. That’s why my pockets are so full.” Julie took a handful of grass from her pocket. “See, it will dry eventually.”
Jack focused on Julie’s jacket pockets. “It’s better if you hold the grass up against the wind. Your pockets will just preserve the moisture.”
Julie put her hand up, and the grass straws began to dance in the wind.
“Can you get me a couple of branches?” Julie asked.
Jack shrugged “Okay.”