"I can hear the rotors."
Victor pointed his frostbitten finger at the pitch black sky. The roaring wind masked the mechanical sound at first. Then the heavy rhythmic thumping of twin military helicopter blades chopped through the raging blizzard.
"We are saved," Cynthia sobbed. She held her bleeding hands close to the roaring antique fire.
"I told you they would come for me," Victor shouted over the crackling flames.
He turned to the shivering socialites huddled around the burning piano. The heat from the ten million dollar bonfire pushed the negative eighty degree cold away for a brief moment.
"My family name carries heavy weight," Victor boasted. "The government knows we are the economic backbone of this state. We are priority assets."
Caroline stared blankly into the bright orange
