Redemption

The silence of the forest was broken only by the soft crackle of Mara’s campfire. She sat motionless, staring into the flames as shadows danced across her weathered face. The whisper of wind through pine needles brought no comfort, only memories she’d rather forget. Mara took a long pull from her flask, grimacing at the burn. She’d come to these woods to escape, but found the ghosts had followed. In the flickering firelight, faces appeared - comrades lost, targets acquired. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the images away. ...

The old magnolia tree cast a long shadow across Eleanor’s porch, its gnarled branches reaching out like arthritic fingers. She rocked gently in her wicker chair, sipping sweet tea and watching the neighborhood children play in the fading summer light. Their laughter carried on the warm breeze, a bittersweet reminder of days long past. Eleanor’s weathered hands trembled slightly as she set down her glass. At eighty-seven, her body was failing her, but her mind remained sharp as ever. Perhaps too sharp, she thought ruefully. Some memories were best left to fade. ...

The rain had been falling for six days straight when the Parker Creek dam gave way. Sarah Connor was in the middle of treating eight-year-old Ellie Matheson’s earache when her phone blared the emergency alert. The sound made both of them jump. Ellie’s mother Jennifer clutched her purse tighter to her chest. “What is it?” Jennifer asked, her voice tight with the worry that seemed to permeate everything in Millhaven these days. ...

Marvin Phelps stood at attention in front of his bathroom mirror, meticulously adjusting his navy blue tie. The crisp Windsor knot nestled perfectly against the collar of his freshly starched white shirt. He smoothed an errant eyebrow hair and gave a curt nod of approval to his reflection. “Another day, another battle,” he muttered. From the bedroom, his wife Tessa’s voice drifted in. “Marv, honey? Don’t forget we have dinner with the Hendersons tonight.” ...

The shutter clicked rapidly as Mara Thorne captured frame after frame of the elusive Kirtland’s warbler. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the small gray and yellow bird flit between the jack pines, its melodious song echoing through the forest. After three days of patient waiting in her camouflaged blind, she had finally spotted the endangered species. Mara lowered her camera, allowing herself a small smile of satisfaction. It had been years since a Kirtland’s warbler had been documented in this part of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Her photographs could aid critical conservation efforts for the species. ...