Free Expect the Sunrise by Susan May Warren Page B

the flame. It growled and flickered out, grabbing at them with fingers of warmth.
    “Is anyone feeling like they might be running a fever?” Andee put a hand on Sarah’s head, then checked her pulse. She scanned the group.
    Nina shook her head.
    “Do you know where we are?” McRae spoke out of the semidarkness. He’d taken the place across from her, so his feet nearly bumped hers. She saw his dark profile and for a second felt an odd burst of relief that he’d taken the place near the opening. Just in case the wind decided to attack their shanty.
    “For guys who have just been in a plane crash, Mr. McRae, you and Phillips think well on your feet. You did a superb job on this shelter.”
    “Thanks, Emma,” Phillips said, although he sounded exhausted.
    Andee took the pot out of her duffel and filled it with water from the water canister. “I have six soup packets and enough water for three days if we ration. We’ll have to share the soup. The good news is that we have enough Sierra cups.”
    Silence.
    “That was supposed to be a joke. I was thinking that you might not care about sharing at this point.”
    “I care,” Ishbane said.
    O-kay. Andee nodded, smiling in his direction. He shivered, and she instinctively reached out to check his temperature. He slapped her hand away.
    “Hey!” McRae barked from his corner. “Back off, Ishbane.”
    “She got us into this mess. I don’t want her near me.”
    “She may be your best bet for survival. Hit her again, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
    Andee felt the tension snap and coil around her. “All right. Sorry. I … ah, just wanted to check your temperature, Mr. Ishbane. Tell me if you’re feeling hot, okay?”
    He only grunted.
    Andee shot a glance at McRae. He didn’t meet her gaze, and she couldn’t tell if she was grateful for his words or annoyed. She needed these passengers to see her as a leader. To trust her.
    Not to have to protect her.
    Then again she didn’t really need protecting. She had walrus-thick skin after fighting for a place in the bush-pilot world of Alaska. She’d seen Ishbane finishing his smokes in one long succession after the crash, heard his litany of descriptions about their plight and his opinion of Andee’s flying skills. So what? If it helped him slough off stress, he could call her any adjectives he could string together.
    Good thing they didn’t know her real name. For now let them think of her as Emma. Somehow it felt safer, like their accusations and fear couldn’t penetrate her exterior and mix with her own fear. As Emma, the pilot, she’d make wise decisions, take care of her passengers, and get them to safety.
    Even if the Andee inside wanted to hide.
    McRae seemed in control, unflappable as he sat in the corner, watching her stir the soup. As if it might be just another event in his daily routine as a … “What do you do for a living, Mr. McRae? Salmon fisherman? Pipeline inspector … ?”
    She wouldn’t peg him as an executive—he bore a roughness around the edges, a barely contained energy that made her suspect he liked to be in the middle of the action. Or perhaps he simply hid his residual panic very well. After all, look at her. Emma on the outside, high-adrenaline Andee on the inside. She made a fist to hide her tremors. It wasn’t every day she crashed a plane. She’d been sixteen the last time she’d landed in a panic. And then her father had been driving … kind of.
    “Aye. Something like that,” McRae answered quietly. “Why?”
    “Ever spent time in the bush?”
    He met her gaze, and she found it quiet and unsettling. Something about him said secrets. Lots of secrets. “Aye.”
    Andee touched Sarah on the forehead, cupped her hand over her mouth, waiting for breath. In. Out. Yes.
    She sat back and pulled out the aerial maps she’d dug out of the wreckage and shoved into her jacket. Unrolling them onto her lap, she flicked on the flashlight and ran the beam across them.
    “I’ve been