CHAPTER 42
Jennifer
Patrol choppers
darted back and forth like large, metallic, noisy, armed
dragonflies. Jennifer watched them work.
She assumed they were
working; it was hard to imagine that sort of activity would be
recreation for anyone. They were showing in greater numbers,
especially since Skip’s superspider had jumped for the
moon.
Nothing gets military attention like space invasions.
Who’d have thought the invasion would be in the other
direction?
She knew nothing of
military helicopters other than the fact that there were lots of
them on the air base where Susan’s father worked. Wait. Is it an Air Force base, or an Army base? Can you
call an Army base an air base, or do they get offended? What does
Susan’s dad do, anyway? Small-arms instructor? Fire-support
specialist? Flight officer? Signals coordinator? Intelligence
officer? Which of those involved helicopters, if any? Would he come
talk to us if he could? If so, why haven’t we seen him? She
knew none of this. Not knowing made her nervous, and
tired.
Speaking of tired,
Jennifer’s mom was still inside the hospital, performing miracles
on Evangelina while Dianna kept a watch on the moon. And what will
watching the moon get us, she had wanted to ask—but for once, she
wasn’t feeling the snark. Instead, she had gone for a long
walk.
She was thinking of
discussing the helicopters with her mother. Naturally she didn’t
want to bug her overworked, exhausted, emotionally numb, widowed
mother unless it was critically important. This might qualify.
Would her mother know any more about helicopters than
Jennifer?
It looked like
patrolling. There were always at least three darting back and forth
along the fringes of Big Blue. They did not hover, did not flash
lights, certainly didn’t fire anything.
No, they were
probably watching, no more, no less. They were careful to make sure
there were always at least three, and sometimes (near dusk, and
again near dawn, she had noticed), there were as many as
six.
The random
recollection that her father was dead hit her again. No reason. She
sighed and supposed this was her brain’s way of trying to process
that he was dead, in the midst of a crisis that would not give her
any real amount of time to grieve. The lack of true grieving was an
awful disservice to her father’s memory. It was draining the life
and will and strength from his widow and filling his daughter with
resentment.
She couldn’t
recognize anyone in the helicopters, but she granted she was too
far away to get a better look. All she could see were helmets and
sunglasses.
Was Susan’s father
flying one of them? Had he sent them? Was this his way of helping?
Or did he have nothing to do with them? In which case: was that
good, or bad?
Susan’s dad was a
distant schmuck, a man who seemed to think the loss of his wife was
far greater than a daughter’s loss of her mother. He had turned
mourning into self-absorption; Jennifer had never liked
him.
But still: maybe he
was helping.
And maybe
not.
Susan would know;
she’d have a good guess, anyway, and might even know who some of
the other chopper pilots were. If nothing else, she’d have some
hilariously sarcastic comment. This would cheer Jennifer up, if
only for a few minutes.
But Susan wasn’t
here—not since Evangelina got back. She wasn’t anywhere around the
hospital and hadn’t done any blogs or newscasts. For all Jennifer
knew, she was holing up in her odd-smelling apartment. Probably
upset that there was nothing she could do for her boyfriend, or
really anyone she cared about.
Poor Susan. You have no idea. You’re better off staying
put in bed. You don’t want the responsibilities Mom and I have. At
least you’re safe, wherever you are.