13
“Five hundred miles,” Major Napier announced as they gathered, each wearing heavy winter gear around the table in the Attu Island USCG rec room.
Mick looked around. They were a tribe of giant snowmen, even the women—but all in non-reflective Night Stalker black. A tribe of pitch-black snowpeople only to be found at the last outpost of the United States.
Pathetic! That was such a Patty-type of bizarre image, and now it was in his head. Mick wondered briefly if she was doing some kind of telepathic thing, showing him quite how strange her view of the world was.
Patty was so layered up it would have been impossible to tell her from Sofia except for the light skin and blue eyes that had tracked his every move. Something was different with her this morning, but Mick couldn’t quite put hi
