Free Emerald Death by Bill Craig Page B

airship was a ghost from his past, reaching out to draw him once more into the struggle.
                He could feel his heart beating faster at the thought.  A part of him was excited by the thought, but part of him was appalled.  Did he truly miss the danger; the excitement; the rush of adrenaline?  McKenzie hated to think so.  He wanted the peaceful life of a missionary and teacher. 
                Or did he? 
               
    McKenzie didn’t often think about the old days; those memories summoned the ghosts.  And yet, the ghosts had only come after the fighting was done.  When he and Hawkins and the others had fought their war around the globe, as tragic as some of the battles had been, he had been able to endure and drive on.  It was only when the Fighting Hawks had been disbanded and scattered to the Four Winds that the dreams had begun.  Perhaps that was what the ghosts were trying to tell him: never stop fighting.  Maybe the best way to honor their memory was to keep the war alive, even if it meant more sacrifices.
                Of course, there was Bridget’s welfare to consider.  She needed to be moved back to civilization, to a place where she didn’t have to live in fear of wild animals and wilder men, or of terrible diseases that could strike without warning and disfigure, paralyze or kill their victims.  More than that, she needed a real family, real friends - something he could never give her.
     
    It might be better if he went back to what he had once been, a warrior cleric like the Templars of old.  Better for himself, better for Bridget, better maybe for the world.  Yet, he hesitated.  He had worked so long to become the person he now was - a good person, the person he wanted to be - could he give that up?  Could he be that person, and still be the warrior priest? It was an absurd notion; change without change.
                He gazed up again at the retreating zeppelin.  Perhaps the decision would be made for him.
     
                           *****
     
    Bridget Ellen O’Malley watched Mike Hannigan from a distance as he and the Russian made plans, and just now, that was where she wanted to keep things: at a distance.
    She was puzzled by her feelings for Hannigan.  Just a glance from him sent warm sensations flowing to parts of her body that embarrassed her.  She had never been with a man, but nonetheless recognized the stirrings of desire - “lust,” her adopted father would call it.  She was aware of her naiveté; not only was she inexperienced in matters of the heart (or was this simply a matter of the flesh?) but she had never gotten so close to any man the way she had with Hannigan in the past few hours. She tried to hide her feelings behind sarcasm, but wondered whom she was really trying to hide from.
    I’ve fallen in love with Mike Hannigan.
     
    The realization came like a rap of knuckles on the head of a wayward child.
    A rational voice inside tried to protest, but her heart won out; I’m in love, she thought.  And I love this feeling.
    She had to know whether this was a mutual attraction, or just unrequited infatuation, but how to find out?  She knew it wouldn’t do to just blurt out a proclamation of undying love; that would most likely scare him off.  No, she had to figure out a way to make sure that Hannigan felt the same for her, that he wanted her as badly as she did him.
    She shook her head.  She certainly couldn’t discuss the subject with her adopted father.  But there was one of the village women, Nekoosa, who might have some advice.  Nekoosa had been her nanny since her parents had died - not quite a mother figure to McKenzie’s fatherly role, but the closest thing to it - and she had taught Bridget what to expect as her body had ripened from that of a young girl into that of a young woman.  Yes, Nekoosa would be able to advise her on how to act upon her feelings once they had