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Andi followed Morales’ final flight path. They had agreed to mirror his every motion, simply at a slower speed.
South past The Jumbles.
Over the dead tendrils of white that had once been saltwater rivers feeding the salt lake that had become Groom.
Down to Dog Bone Lake. Though they had no missiles aboard to aim at the old tank parked there, she flew them over it.
Rolling into the Pintwater Range felt like the most natural thing in the world. As if it was a flight she’d done a thousand times.
There will be times of perfect clarity, when you think it’s all out of your system. Dramatic pause. It won’t be.
Army psychs sucked.
She flew north through the canyons.
Where Morales had descended to three meters, she dropped to five.
And slowed.
By the time they reached the canyon leadi
