Falling

by Kris Bryant

  “I’m going to check.”

  I passed out again. When I came to, the flight attendant was putting one of the survivors in charge before she headed back to the wreckage. The man who rescued me had brought back four people who weren’t in great shape. I couldn’t look at them. I didn’t know if one of the guys was missing a hand or if it was so badly mangled that I just couldn’t make it out in the dark. They seated him on somebody’s jacket. I felt worthless, but I had no energy and couldn’t even save myself, let alone somebody else.

  “Hopefully, help gets here soon. I called 9-1-1. They already knew,” Jason said. He paced in front of me and stared at the burning tail section of the plane. “There’s nobody left. Nobody alive. I searched everywhere.” He ran his hand back and forth over his head and continued pacing.

  “Can you see the rest of the plane?” someone asked.

  “Does anybody have a flashlight or something I can use? Maybe I can get over there before help arrives.” Jason checked his cell phone and shook his head. “I only have nine percent of my battery left.”

  A few survivors had their phones on them, but the flashlights were too dull to make a difference in the thick forest. The rest of the plane seemed close but was probably about two hundred yards away. Nobody could have survived the explosion. The cockpit was now an inferno, billowing black smoke that was darker than the night sky. Jason was determined, though. He pointed at me, said something to the flight attendant, and disappeared into the woods. A few others followed. The shock was wearing off and the pain magnified, accompanied by the shakes. My teeth chattered and I clenched down. I focused on the good. Even though I was bruised and completely beat up, I had survived the unthinkable.

  * * *

  The first responders swarmed the crash site with bright lights and shrill sirens. I was tired of hearing loud noises and shouts. The spotlights from the helicopters above made me nauseous and I heaved twice before the EMTs reached me. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they placed a collar around my neck, lifted me onto a portable stretcher, and rushed me to a waiting helicopter. I felt every step they took but was thankful to get away from the wreckage. The stench of burning flesh, jet fuel, and melted electronics was too much for me.

  “You’re safe now. We’re going to take care of you and get you to a hospital.” The EMT looked down at me with a forced smile. It hurt to smile back, so I tried to nod instead. At least I thought I did. He slipped an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose and told me to breathe normally. I heard clips of deep voices and felt hands cutting away my clothes, but I didn’t care. Once I knew I was truly safe, I welcomed the darkness and faded off to sleep.

  Chapter Two

  According to Vicky, the nurse who checked my vision and my vitals the second I stirred awake, I’d been asleep for sixteen hours. She said I was in the emergency room at the University of Colorado Hospital, but I had no recollection of getting there.

  “Honey, do you know your name?”

  “Shaylie. Shaylie Beck.” Something was wrong with my throat. It felt like it was on fire. I tried clearing it, but I couldn’t even muster the energy to swallow.

  She scribbled down my name and scurried out with the promise that a doctor would be right in. Horrific scenes flashed in my mind as I remembered what I’d been through and the loss of life I’d witnessed.

  A woman in a white coat walked in. “Shaylie, I’m Dr. Shafer. You’re a very lucky woman. We’re glad you’re awake.”

  “What happened? Every single part of me hurts.” I didn’t recognize my voice. It was unbelievably painful to talk. I tried swallowing again but failed.

  She placed her hand on my forearm as a calming gesture. “You were in a plane crash. Do you remember it?”

  I nodded but gave up having a conversation.

  “They brought you in Friday night. You have three broken ribs and several stitches from a piece of metal we extracted from your rib cage. Your lungs are swollen due to exposure to the jet fuel. It’s going to hurt to talk and breathe for the next few weeks. You dislocated your shoulder, fractured your wrist, and you have lacerations above your left eye and on the side of your knee.” She leaned over my bed and checked my vision by making me follow her finger with my eyes. “And you have a concussion, but you are alive and you will walk out of here in a few days.”

  I started crying because not only did I hurt all over, but so many people didn’t make it. Flight 215 was a full flight.

  “How many survivors?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “The EMTs took survivors to all available hospitals in the area, so I can’t give you a number right now. The five patients we have are all doing well and will be released sometime this weekend.”

  Nobody knew I was on that flight except my boss. I’d bet money she wasn’t even paying attention when she called me at the airport to find out how the last day of the conference went. She expected me to call in every night with a report. It irked me no end that she was two years younger and I had to report to her. Commercial real estate brokers didn’t need bosses. We were too ambitious and hungry to worry about corporate schedules. She was the one who forced me to attend the conference in New York. Brittany Miller slept her way to the top and knew nothing about real estate or how to manage people. I tried going around her, but her boss, Travis, was also her not-so-secret boyfriend and he just shrugged at me. I hated everything about the company I worked for except the money.

  “Do you need us to call anyone? You didn’t have any identification or a phone on you, so we weren’t sure who to call.”

  My best friend Marisa knew I went to the conference but didn’t know my travel schedule. She probably didn’t know I was returning Friday. My parents lived in California. My mom probably tried to reach me since the plane crash happened right outside of Denver, but no one really knew my itinerary.

  “Marisa Bower.” Fuck. I didn’t know her number. It was stored in my phone, not in my memory. “She’s a cop.”

  “Marisa Bower? We can try to reach her. Is she in the Denver area?”

  I nodded. Even that hurt. I knew that once Marisa found out, she would take care of informing every single person in my life, including my parents.

  “Okay, try to get some rest and we’ll find Marisa for you.” She wrote down information and left the room.

  I fumbled with the oversized remote that controlled everything in my room from my bed to the television. I had to know what happened and why. Several of the channels were still covering the crash. According to sources, there were one hundred and forty-five passengers including the crew onboard, but only eleven survivors. Two were in critical condition. I thought of Jason and what he had to have seen at the other crash sites. The plane broke apart in three sections and all of the survivors were in the tail section. Had I not defied the rules and sneaked to the bathroom, I would be dead. The couple who made out nonstop next to me? Dead. The woman and her baby three rows up? Dead.

  “You need to rest and not worry about the news.” Vicky returned and added something to my IV that relaxed me immediately. She turned off the television and informed me Marisa was on her way. She said I should get some sleep until then.

  I closed my eyes and allowed the medicine to take my mind off the last day. I gratefully drifted back to sleep, thankful that I was alive but in so much pain that I still thought I was going to die.

  * * *

  “You’re awake. Sweetheart, oh, my God. I’m so happy you’re alive.”

  I focused on Marisa’s long blond hair as it brushed my chin when she tried to hug me. I bit my lip to stop from crying out but still grunted at her touch.

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to do right now.”

  She sat on a chair that was already pulled close to the bed.

  “How long have I been out?”

  “I got here about two hours ago. I’m so sorry, Shaylie.” The tears pooled in her blue eyes and dropped on her cheeks. She looked devastated.

  “T
he good news is that I survived.” I tried a tiny laugh but groaned instead. It hurt to talk. Hell, it hurt to breathe. I didn’t know how I was going to function with a cast and broken ribs.

  “Fuck. Did you ever. I can’t believe it. I really can’t. What they are saying on the news—” Her eyes lit up as she started the conversation, then she stopped herself. “We can talk about it when you feel better. I called your parents. They are on their way.”

  “Thanks, Mar.”

  “I still can’t believe it.”

  “I can’t either. I hurt everywhere. How do I look?”

  Marisa’s bottom lip started quivering again. She took a deep breath and looked over my head.

  “You look like you just got back from hell. They did a pretty decent job of cleaning up the blood, but you have a really large bandage on your head. The nurse said you have eight stitches on your forehead, twenty-three in your side because a piece of a chair fucking impaled you, and seventeen stitches on the inside of your knee.” She looked at me after her recap and gave me a sad smile. “But you’re still beautiful.”

  “You’re too sweet.” I still didn’t recognize my voice. Even though I was alive, I felt worse than when I was on the ground wrapped in a blanket after Jason dragged me off the plane. “Do you know if Jason is out there?”

  Marisa sat back down after fussing with my hair. “Who’s Jason?”

  “He’s the one who got me off the plane. He saved me and a bunch of others.”

  “There are a lot of people here, but I can ask around. Your nurse might know where he is. Do you want him here?”

  I nodded and started crying again. I was overly emotional, but I wanted to thank him. I knew if anybody could find him, it would be Marisa. She was a detective, so the badge got her information right away, but she was also drop dead gorgeous and people fell over themselves to help her. She was tough as nails with an angelic face.

  “Then I’ll go find him. Do you want anything? Can you eat food? Jell-O? Pudding? Ice cream?” Her voice held a note of desperation. She wanted to help me any way she could but didn’t know how.

  I waved off the offer of food. Nothing sounded good, plus I wasn’t even sure my stomach would hold anything down. “I think I’m going to rest. Can you wake me if you find him?”

  “Of course. I’m on it.”

  She bolted from the room, anxious to have something to do. Marisa wasn’t one to be idle and I was tired of answering questions. I hit my pain button a few times and drifted back into oblivion.

  I woke up to Marisa and my parents leaning over me.

  “Is she in a coma?” The panic in my mom’s voice almost made me smile.

  “She’s not in a coma, Bridget. She’s just drugged up. The doctor said she was in a lot of pain,” my dad said. Leave it to him to get straight to the point.

  I kept my eyes closed for a few minutes longer. It was nice that they were here. Did they fly? I cracked my eyes open just a little as I pictured their flight crashing to the ground.

  “Shaylie, it’s Mom. Can you hear me?”

  I nodded. My once-thunderous headache had subsided into an annoying poke at the base of my skull. I hit the drip only once. I wanted to be coherent enough to have a conversation with them.

  “Did you find Jason?” I reached out to Marisa.

  She shook her head. “He’s already been released. Thankfully, he only had a few cuts and bruises and some minor burns that will heal. I’m sure we’ll run into him soon.”

  “How do you feel?” My mom’s voice was two octaves higher than normal.

  I knew she was a few seconds from completely falling apart. I wasn’t trying to ignore her, but I didn’t want to state the obvious. I obviously looked like shit, so I was sure everyone knew I felt like it, too.

  “I’m sore.”

  “Can I get you anything?” My mom touched my knee and I grimaced.

  “Not that knee, Bridget. That’s the one with the stitches.”

  I heard my dad’s gruff voice again, but he was standing too far back for me to see him. My mom blanched. My dad leaned into my line of vision, kissed my cheek, and pulled up a chair for my mother to sit in.

  “Honey, you’re going to be fine. You mom is going to stay here for a bit and help you get back on your feet. I’m so thankful you’re alive.” He squeezed my hand and smiled at me. It was the first time I’d seen my dad smile in ages. Military life squelched a lot of his emotions. My mother was the exact opposite.

  “Thanks, guys. I appreciate the help.” I struggled to sit up, but Marisa pressed her hand gently on my chest.

  “Let me help.” She used the remote to tilt the top half of the bed up.

  “Any chance I can get a mirror? Or better yet, a shower?”

  “I’m going to nix both at the moment. I’m sure before you leave, they’ll hose you down, but right now it’s going to be hard with all of your stitches and bandages,” Marisa said.

  If Marisa didn’t want me looking in a mirror, then I knew it was bad. I scowled and leaned back. I poked my ribs gingerly. My side didn’t hurt nearly as much as it did when I was at the crash site, but I was also heavily medicated. I looked under the covers at my leg. It was bandaged so I couldn’t see anything. My mom pulled the covers down to look, too. I could bend my leg, but it felt tight. I didn’t know if that was due to swelling or the bandages. I was a mess, but I was done crying. I was alive and one hundred and thirty-four people on that flight weren’t.

  “How are you feeling today, Shaylie?” Dr. Shafer knocked as she walked in with her clipboard and a nurse.

  “Better than earlier, but still rough.”

  My family huddled in the corner of the room as she took my vitals and checked my injuries.

  “You’ll limp for a bit and it’s going to be hard to breathe for a few more weeks, but I think by Tuesday you can go home. How does that sound?”

  “Best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

  “Are you hungry yet?” She checked my IV bag. “You’re going to need more than liquids.”

  “I could probably eat something easy.” I still wasn’t hungry, but I wanted out of this place, and being agreeable was the first step.

  “Perfect. The soup is pretty good today. That’s a good start.” She winked at me and nodded to my family still huddled in the corner.

  “That’s great news. I can go to your house and stock the refrigerator and clean up,” Mom said. She hated sitting around, too. The next few weeks with me was going to kill her.

  “Marisa’s going to have to give you a key. I have nothing. Not even my purse.” I held up my hands like a blackjack dealer in the pit switching shifts. The only personal item they found on me was the neutral lip gloss in my pocket. Fuck. I was going to have to cancel all my credit cards, call my bank, get another driver’s license and passport.

  “I’m already on it. Don’t worry about a thing,” Marisa said as if reading my mind. She marched out of the room, her phone already up to her ear.

  “I’m so happy you have her in your life. Tell me again why you two aren’t together?” Mom said.

  I rolled my eyes at her. “She’s straight, Mom.” This wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation. For some reason, my mother kept pushing it.

  “She’s gorgeous. I just wish you both would find somebody. You aren’t getting any younger, you know.” Leave it to my mother to bring that up at a time like this.

  “Thirty-two isn’t old. For either of us.” I reached for the remote and reclined my bed. “I’m tired.” They took the hint. My father leaned over and kissed the tip of my nose. My mother squeezed my hand.

  “Okay, we’re going to get some food and bring you up something you can eat when you’re ready.”

  I loved that they were there for me, but I just needed the world to go quiet again.

  Chapter Three

  “How can you not have any news? It’s been a month. This is ridiculous.” A few people clapped at the woman’s outburst.

  I l
eaned up in my chair to see who was brave enough to interrupt. The spokesperson for the Federal Aviation Administration, Dallas Thorpe, held up his hand, indicating he understood our concern and had answers.

  “We are all frustrated we don’t have all the answers yet. The flight recorder was damaged, so it’s going to take time to process the information.” Well, fuck. So much for the indestructible black box. “We know the left engine had issues. It might take us months to figure out the actual cause, but I promise you, we are doing everything possible to understand what happened.”

  I snorted at the way he said “issues.” It exploded in a ball of fire and sent us hurtling into the ground. Thorpe and his team were assigned our crash. Today was the weekly meeting that the FAA had with the survivors of Flight 215. The survivors included the eleven passengers and loved ones of those who didn’t survive. I didn’t recognize the woman who spoke as one of the plane survivors, so she probably lost a loved one. She was the kind of woman who got a lot of looks whether she wanted to or not. Her brown wavy hair was loosely pulled back from her face. The white tank top, yoga pants, shirt tied around her waist, and several bracelets on her arms gave her a bohemian vibe. I looked at my slacks and button-down blouse. I felt frumpy and old, but my wardrobe was severely limited due to my injuries. Pulling something over my head was impossible. I was destined to wear button-down shirts and cardigans for at least another week. Before my mother returned to California, we’d shopped for clothes that would be easy to slip on. My ribs were healing and my stitches were gone, but I was bruised and sore and still had a cast on my wrist.

  “Look, I lost two people I loved very much on this flight and I just want answers so I can find peace. We all do.” She pointed behind her at the crowd, who nodded once again.

  “We’re working on this twenty-four seven. As soon as we have a report, we’ll share it with you.”

  The lady sat down and Thorpe reassured us they wouldn’t rest until they had answers. I didn’t want to attend the meetings, but Marisa thought it was a good idea. The airline had grief counselors on hand who we were encouraged to meet with either in a group setting or one-on-one. I was repressing a lot of emotions, but the fact that I was alive outweighed anything else. I was here today, my first meeting, because I wanted to personally thank Jason. Marisa found him and we’d talked on the phone, but he lived in Cheyenne, so grabbing a cup of coffee wasn’t easy. He said he attended the meetings and would meet me there. I didn’t see him, but there were over two hundred people packed into the lecture hall at the University of Colorado where the FAA held the meetings. I would find him when the meeting was over.