First 4 chapters from
SORROW'S ECHO
One
The dry wind blew across the desert, playing a mournful requiem on the instruments of rock and sand. The melody rose and fell as it moved over the landscape, lamenting the dead and those who would soon join them. It moaned through canyons and stone arches and trilled around spires and shadowy mesas before rising in a crescendo to the top of the cliff, where it sang warnings to those preparing to jump off.
Helene closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, inhaling the warm Arizona air as it blew past. It tugged at the wide-brimmed hat cinched tightly under her chin and rippled through her T-shirt and khaki hiking shorts, its whistle drowning out the bustle going on behind her. For a moment, she was the only person in the world. She was free.
And then her husband ruined it.
“Hey, Helene,” Sven called from beside the two vans parked a handful of yards behind her, “could you help Tybet unload the packs?”
At hearing his voice, familiar anger flashed through her. She gritted her teeth and drew a sharp breath through her nose, feeding the fury building in her. Her anger wasn’t fair or warranted, but it was her lifeline. It was the only thing that kept the shadows at bay.
The desert below her stretched out to the horizon, godforsaken, sun bleached, and inhospitable. The thought of spending ten days out there with anyone, least of all with Sven and his misfit engineering team, churned the acid in her stomach. It was, she lamented, almost as bad as the thought of losing her husband altogether.
Just like they lost Kyle.
The shadows pressed in as a lump formed in her throat, and her chest constricted at the thought of their son. An onslaught of memories and images surged through her. In that moment, she both cradled Kyle as an infant and nervously let go of his hand as he stepped into kindergarten on his first day of school. She cheered as he made the winning goal at a high school soccer game and beamed as he graduated and moved on to college. His whole life spread before her, the images, bright and filled with pain, flashing through her consciousness. They resolved, as they always did, into her memory of the last photo she had of Kyle, the one in the car with Emily. In the photo, the new ring sparkled on Emily’s finger and both her and Kyle beamed, their life together stretching out ahead of them, all fifteen minutes of it.
Trembling, Helene closed her eyes. Following the advice of the grief counselor Sven had insisted they visit shortly after the accident a year earlier, she drew a long, deep breath and let it out slowly, willing the memories and heartache to go with it. The trick didn’t work. It had never worked.
Helene opened her eyes and stared into the valley again without seeing it, feeling the darkness and the grief close in. Her hand lingered near the pocket of her shorts. She could feel her phone nestled there, could feel it calling to her, could feel the need for what it could deliver building inside her. Her fingers twitched in anticipation, and her heart thundered in her chest.
“Helene?” Sven called again.
Her fading anger burned again, brighter and hotter than before. Helene grasped onto it, feeding it, forcing the darkness back with its painful light. Slowly, the trembling subsided as the need retreated to the shadows.
Gritting her teeth, she spun and walked toward the second of the two dust-covered vans. She pointedly ignored Sven, who was talking with Ryan, the pimply-faced technician who had driven the first van, and concentrated instead on the McTiernan Group logo stenciled on the side of the vehicle. She was vaguely aware of Tybet, the linebacker-sized security chief who’d come along as the second driver and was currently unloading and sorting equipment. In spite of herself, Helene stole a glance toward the large white trailer parked behind the van. She stifled her curiosity about the thing inside being prepped by Marcos and Pato, the two nerds who’d dreamed up the whole trip. Her eyes lingered for a moment on Stacee, the gorgeous mechanic who had busied herself with the tools near the trailer, then Helene moved on to Vivek, the Indian guide who was carrying rappelling equipment toward the cliff. Except for Sven, none of the others so much as glanced in her direction.
Without a word, Helene threw herself into her job with single-minded focus: sorting the packs and supplies then checking and double-checking the equipment. All the while, she kept the fire of her anger burning. As long as she was angry with Sven, she didn’t have to face the real truth: Kyle’s death was her fault.
Helene closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, inhaling the warm Arizona air as it blew past. It tugged at the wide-brimmed hat cinched tightly under her chin and rippled through her T-shirt and khaki hiking shorts, its whistle drowning out the bustle going on behind her. For a moment, she was the only person in the world. She was free.
And then her husband ruined it.
“Hey, Helene,” Sven called from beside the two vans parked a handful of yards behind her, “could you help Tybet unload the packs?”
At hearing his voice, familiar anger flashed through her. She gritted her teeth and drew a sharp breath through her nose, feeding the fury building in her. Her anger wasn’t fair or warranted, but it was her lifeline. It was the only thing that kept the shadows at bay.
The desert below her stretched out to the horizon, godforsaken, sun bleached, and inhospitable. The thought of spending ten days out there with anyone, least of all with Sven and his misfit engineering team, churned the acid in her stomach. It was, she lamented, almost as bad as the thought of losing her husband altogether.
Just like they lost Kyle.
The shadows pressed in as a lump formed in her throat, and her chest constricted at the thought of their son. An onslaught of memories and images surged through her. In that moment, she both cradled Kyle as an infant and nervously let go of his hand as he stepped into kindergarten on his first day of school. She cheered as he made the winning goal at a high school soccer game and beamed as he graduated and moved on to college. His whole life spread before her, the images, bright and filled with pain, flashing through her consciousness. They resolved, as they always did, into her memory of the last photo she had of Kyle, the one in the car with Emily. In the photo, the new ring sparkled on Emily’s finger and both her and Kyle beamed, their life together stretching out ahead of them, all fifteen minutes of it.
Trembling, Helene closed her eyes. Following the advice of the grief counselor Sven had insisted they visit shortly after the accident a year earlier, she drew a long, deep breath and let it out slowly, willing the memories and heartache to go with it. The trick didn’t work. It had never worked.
Helene opened her eyes and stared into the valley again without seeing it, feeling the darkness and the grief close in. Her hand lingered near the pocket of her shorts. She could feel her phone nestled there, could feel it calling to her, could feel the need for what it could deliver building inside her. Her fingers twitched in anticipation, and her heart thundered in her chest.
“Helene?” Sven called again.
Her fading anger burned again, brighter and hotter than before. Helene grasped onto it, feeding it, forcing the darkness back with its painful light. Slowly, the trembling subsided as the need retreated to the shadows.
Gritting her teeth, she spun and walked toward the second of the two dust-covered vans. She pointedly ignored Sven, who was talking with Ryan, the pimply-faced technician who had driven the first van, and concentrated instead on the McTiernan Group logo stenciled on the side of the vehicle. She was vaguely aware of Tybet, the linebacker-sized security chief who’d come along as the second driver and was currently unloading and sorting equipment. In spite of herself, Helene stole a glance toward the large white trailer parked behind the van. She stifled her curiosity about the thing inside being prepped by Marcos and Pato, the two nerds who’d dreamed up the whole trip. Her eyes lingered for a moment on Stacee, the gorgeous mechanic who had busied herself with the tools near the trailer, then Helene moved on to Vivek, the Indian guide who was carrying rappelling equipment toward the cliff. Except for Sven, none of the others so much as glanced in her direction.
Without a word, Helene threw herself into her job with single-minded focus: sorting the packs and supplies then checking and double-checking the equipment. All the while, she kept the fire of her anger burning. As long as she was angry with Sven, she didn’t have to face the real truth: Kyle’s death was her fault.
Sven sighed as he watched Helene work. Even from this distance, he could feel the familiar burn of her fury. He wondered again why he had agreed to bring her along.
Shaking his head, he turned back toward Ryan, the acne-prone young man who would be monitoring their progress from the lab back in Phoenix. He hesitated when he realized that the young man’s attention was directed elsewhere.
Sven turned and followed Ryan’s gaze straight to Stacee’s ass. The mechanic, who was too good-looking for her own good as far as this trip was concerned, was bent over a toolbox, checking items off a list. Her denim shorts rose all the way up, hugging her backside.
Sven sighed with frustration. If they ever got moving with her around, it would be a wonder. He could only hope Stacee was as good a mechanic as Marcos swore she was. He turned back to Ryan and snapped his fingers inches from the young man’s nose.
“Pay attention.”
Ryan blinked with surprise, as if he had just come out of a trance.
“What?” he asked, a little defensively, his thick glasses flashing in the sunlight as they reluctantly turned toward Sven.
“Do you have everything ready?”
“Yeah, sure.” His eyes drifted back toward the girl.
With a growl, Sven stepped in front of him. “We’re counting on you,” Sven reminded him. “You have the maps? The supply drop schedules? The monitoring equipment? Is there anything you need from Marcos or Pato before we head out?”
“You worry too much,” Ryan said, giving Sven what he probably thought was a reassuring smile. “We’re all good.”
The words did very little to comfort Sven. He stared at the young man for a long moment, scrutinizing him. Ryan wilted under his gaze and shifted nervously from foot to foot.
“Okay,” Sven said at last. “As soon as we’re down the cliff, lower the supply net and head out. It’s about seven hours to Phoenix, and we need you there as soon as possible.”
“Right-ee-oh.” Ryan gave him a thumbs-up.
Sven began to say something else but was cut off by an excited shout from Marcos.
“Hey, everyone,” the engineer called from the back of the trailer, “we’re bringing her out. You don’t want to miss this.”
Ryan whooped and quickly pushed past Sven as Marcos disappeared back into the trailer.
Sven hesitated. He stood for a moment, watching Helene and Tybet approach the trailer, the latter more eager than the former. Ryan got there at the same time and chattered excitedly at the security chief, who responded with noncommittal grunts. Stacee seemed to appear out of nowhere and bounced excitedly next to them, staring fixedly into the trailer. Helene, of course, kept her distance, crossing her arms, and setting her jaw to ward off any who would attempt conversation.
Sven raised his eyes toward the pristine Arizona sky, wondering if Kyle was watching. “Keep an eye on us, okay?” he whispered to his son’s ghost. “We’re going to need it.”
As if in answer, the wind gusted by. Sven grabbed for his hat, saving it just before it was tossed from his head. With a sigh, he turned to join the others, ready to jump off the cliff.
Shaking his head, he turned back toward Ryan, the acne-prone young man who would be monitoring their progress from the lab back in Phoenix. He hesitated when he realized that the young man’s attention was directed elsewhere.
Sven turned and followed Ryan’s gaze straight to Stacee’s ass. The mechanic, who was too good-looking for her own good as far as this trip was concerned, was bent over a toolbox, checking items off a list. Her denim shorts rose all the way up, hugging her backside.
Sven sighed with frustration. If they ever got moving with her around, it would be a wonder. He could only hope Stacee was as good a mechanic as Marcos swore she was. He turned back to Ryan and snapped his fingers inches from the young man’s nose.
“Pay attention.”
Ryan blinked with surprise, as if he had just come out of a trance.
“What?” he asked, a little defensively, his thick glasses flashing in the sunlight as they reluctantly turned toward Sven.
“Do you have everything ready?”
“Yeah, sure.” His eyes drifted back toward the girl.
With a growl, Sven stepped in front of him. “We’re counting on you,” Sven reminded him. “You have the maps? The supply drop schedules? The monitoring equipment? Is there anything you need from Marcos or Pato before we head out?”
“You worry too much,” Ryan said, giving Sven what he probably thought was a reassuring smile. “We’re all good.”
The words did very little to comfort Sven. He stared at the young man for a long moment, scrutinizing him. Ryan wilted under his gaze and shifted nervously from foot to foot.
“Okay,” Sven said at last. “As soon as we’re down the cliff, lower the supply net and head out. It’s about seven hours to Phoenix, and we need you there as soon as possible.”
“Right-ee-oh.” Ryan gave him a thumbs-up.
Sven began to say something else but was cut off by an excited shout from Marcos.
“Hey, everyone,” the engineer called from the back of the trailer, “we’re bringing her out. You don’t want to miss this.”
Ryan whooped and quickly pushed past Sven as Marcos disappeared back into the trailer.
Sven hesitated. He stood for a moment, watching Helene and Tybet approach the trailer, the latter more eager than the former. Ryan got there at the same time and chattered excitedly at the security chief, who responded with noncommittal grunts. Stacee seemed to appear out of nowhere and bounced excitedly next to them, staring fixedly into the trailer. Helene, of course, kept her distance, crossing her arms, and setting her jaw to ward off any who would attempt conversation.
Sven raised his eyes toward the pristine Arizona sky, wondering if Kyle was watching. “Keep an eye on us, okay?” he whispered to his son’s ghost. “We’re going to need it.”
As if in answer, the wind gusted by. Sven grabbed for his hat, saving it just before it was tossed from his head. With a sigh, he turned to join the others, ready to jump off the cliff.
