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Jon let the solid drone of the engines wash more miles away.
They’d been flying east, later into the day. By his best estimation, it was well past midnight for his Kentucky body time, two hours earlier for Holly. He’d been rousted after five hours sleep. According to Miranda, that was an hour more than they’d slept on the C-130 Hercules from her home to Kentucky.
Here it was past late afternoon.
The low March sun streamed in behind Holly and made her hard to see.
She might have slept, but each time he thought she was out, she’d open one eye and scan about before closing it again. Her bad one wasn’t quite swollen shut, but she’d have a pretty good shiner.
Tim’s low grunts each time he shuttled across the aisle between the engineering and radio/navigation stations said that despite
