Expect the Sunrise by Susan May Warren Page B

terrorists were trained in deception. If he hadn’t seen the sparks from the bonfire ignite the plane with his own eyes, he’d suspect sabotage, aimed at taking out the ELT and any threat of interference.
    A warm-up to the big event.
    The flames billowed to the sky, mingled with the gold sunrise dissolving the vault of gray. The fire growled and popped and heated his face, melting the snow thirty feet away, turning the ground black.
    He’d barely yanked Emma out in time. His knees and elbow hurt from his racing dive into the rocks. Just think what would have happened if he hadn’t looked up from his scrutiny of the map, only yards from the shelter, and spied Emma wiggling into the plane. He’d seen the bonfire erupt, the shower of sparks, and did the math on his way to haul her from the cockpit.
    They’d barely escaped being charbroiled.
    Then again one less terrorist to stop.
    Unless she had an accomplice. She was probably meeting people, a scenario the two-way radio he’d found seemed to suggest. A pilot with connections and history on the North Slope wouldn’t be suspected of treason—she could easily bring in supplies and deliver the goods into the hands of the saboteurs.
    Especially since she’d been the one politicking to hike out. Alone. Toward Disaster and the circle on the map.
    Emma turned, as if reading his thoughts, and he met her troubled look. She shrugged away from his stare as she stumbled over to the fall of rocks and leaned against them, dropping the backpack at her feet.
    The slump in her shoulders and the way she closed her eyes as if defeated nearly did him in. She was a good actress. He nearly wanted to believe that she felt overwhelmed with responsibility, that she cared only about getting them all home safely just like she claimed.
    She sighed, opened her eyes, and fixed her attention on the plane. The acrid smell of burning rubber, grass, oil, and paper singed the air. The thunder of the flames backdropped the silence.
    “Oh no.” Ishbane clutched his blanket around his shoulders, his face ashen. “How’d it happen?” he said to Mac.
    Mac didn’t know quite how to answer. “Fuel plus spark equals big bang.”
    Ishbane glared at him and mustered the energy to round on Emma. “Now what? How are they going to find us?” He sank to the ground, shaking. “We’re all going to die out here. We’ll freeze and start eating each other off, and in the spring only one of us will be alive. I don’t want to die.”
    Me either . But right now that wasn’t his highest priority.
    “We’re not going to die,” Emma said quietly. She looked at Mac. “Because I’m going for help.”
    Oh no, not again. Mac blew out a long breath. Before he could answer, however, Phillips came to life. “I agree. Let her go. I’ll go with her, help her—”
    “We’ve been through this,” Mac said. “We all stay, or we all leave. We stick together.”
    Nina rubbed her hands on her arms, her high cheekbones pronounced against her wool stocking cap. A long black braid snaked down her back. She appeared weary or hungry, probably both. She swallowed, as if summoning courage. “I’ll go with you, Emma.”
    Oh yeah, sure. Like that was going to happen. He might as well give them back their map, make sure their two-way radio worked, and load them up with supplies. He even let out a grunt.
    Oops. Apparently Emma heard that, for she approached him in fewer strides than he expected. Standing with her hands on her hips, she stared at him with that heart-shaped face, close enough for him to see the dark flecks in her brown eyes, her long eyelashes, and the angry set of her mouth. Her hair hung in dark ringlets around her face, and for a second it occurred to him that he’d label her as pretty.
    And furious.
    “I don’t know what your problem is, FBI, but I hope you can see our dwindling list of options here.” She flung one arm out in the direction of the fire. “We could hope that some pilot is out early this