His stomach tightened into a series of rolling knots.

Hisses and blurks, small sounds, birds singing, hum of insects, splashes from the fish jumping—

For a second all he heard was the whusssh of the empty air waves.

From his height he could see not just the lake but across part of the forest, a green carpet, and it was full of life.

Divorce. Secrets. No, not secrets so much as just the Secret. What he knew and had not told anybody, what he knew about his mother that had caused the divorce, what he knew, what he knew—the Secret. Divorce. The Secret.

Gradually, like sloshing oil his thoughts settled back and the panic was gone.

He was alone. In the roaring plane with no pilot he was alone. Alone.

The forest was largely made up of pines and spruce, with stands of some low brush smeared here and there and thick grass and some other kind of very small brush all over.

Be asleep, his mind screamed at the pilot.

And now a jolt took him like a hammerblow.

With it came some warmth, small bits of it at first, and with the heat came clouds of insects.

The pilot nodded. "All of flying is easy. Just takes learning. Like everything else. Like everything else."

The memory was like a knife cutting into him. Slicing deep into him with hate.