Whenever I'm With You

by Lydia Sharp

  I’ve just started slipping into a dream when the whole plane jumps, jolting me upright, eyes wide and alert.

  “Y’all okay back there?” Vicki shouts.

  “We’re okay!” Kai and I shout in unison.

  Hunter rubs his eyes and looks around. “What happened?”

  “It’s probably just turbulence,” I say.

  Jack and Vicki frantically work the control panel, each of them claiming the other is at fault for whatever happened. Oh God, are they having a fight? Now?

  “No!” Vicki smacks his hand away from a big red switch.

  He shoves her off and flips the switch. “We have to land!”

  “But we. Can’t. See!”

  “I know my plane. Are you saying you know my plane better than I know my plane? This is my plane and—”

  We bank hard to the left. Kai grabs both of my hands. His first time in the air and this happens. I don’t even know what this is. I’m afraid to look out the side window, but looking straight ahead is no better.

  The plane bucks again and shudders. Kai and I both grab our seats to keep steady, and Hunter’s head thumps against the ceiling.

  Definitely not turbulence. It felt like we hit something—or something hit us. “What’s going on?” I yell over the noise. “Are we going to die?”

  “We are not going to—” Hunter starts, but Vicki cuts him off with a hoarse shout over her shoulder at us.

  “We’re okay! We just have to land and check for damage! We’re okay—okay?”

  Her voice is a thousand miles away.

  Hunter takes one of my hands from Kai and holds one of Kai’s with the other, so we’re all connected now.

  Vicki can claim we’re okay all she wants, but all I hear is we’re going to die.

  I’m going to die.

  I look at Kai, look right into his sunshine eyes fraught with worry, those eyes that always make me feel safe and warm.

  But I don’t see him. I see my mother.

  Long before I met Kai or came to Alaska, long before I chewed her out at the airport, even before all the nonsense with the paparazzi and my parents’ divorce, it was just Mom. It was always Mom. She was my everything.

  She was the one who instilled confidence in me. She was the one who knew how to make me feel good about myself, encouraged me to go into acting because she said I had the trifecta—beauty, talent, and brains. She was the one who always made me laugh—if I was ever in a bad mood around her, it didn’t last.

  Things are so different now … the past might as well have been all a dream. Would she be relieved if I died? Just one less thing for her to worry about ruining her image?

  We hit the ground, skidding, sliding, screaming, and for the first time in a long time, all thoughts about my mother disappear. All thoughts about everything … disappear.

  The plane settles, and a heavy silence dumps over us. It’s too quiet. No one is even breathing, but then a second later, we all let out our breath at once, a tidal wave of relief.

  Vicki spins to face us in the back. “Is everyone okay?”

  “We’re alive!” I say. “So that’s a yes. We’re okay.”

  Kai squeezes my hand and starts laughing—a little too hard, given what just happened. But even when it seems out of place, his laughter is contagious. Despite my heart still racing, my face relaxes with a smile. “We can check ‘scary emergency landing’ off our bucket list now, Gabi,” he says. “What’s next?”

  “I don’t remember … It was either ‘eating a live scorpion’ or ‘dropping a live scorpion down your pants.’ But both of those seem tame after this, don’t you think? We need something more dangerous.”

  Jack flips me off through his rearview mirror. I ignore it, chalk up his response to the stress of the situation, but if Kai had seen it, I doubt he would’ve let it slide.

  “What happened?” Hunter says, unbuckling his seat belt. “Where are we?”

  Vicki rattles off the latitude, longitude, and altitude, like that means anything.

  “Not close enough,” Kai says, sobering quickly. “That’s at least a full day of walking.”

  Okay, I guess the numbers meant nothing just to me. But if we’re only a day’s walk away, that means we’re much closer than we were before. These mountains we’re in were the final destination on the map. Now all we have to do is get to the cabin. “How long before you can get us back in the air?”

  “Sorry, princess,” Jack says. “This baby’s going nowhere until I can take a look under her skirt and see what the damage is. We’ve got plenty of daylight left, so either we stay here, in the plane, and hope I can get it running again. Or we start walking and hope we find another cabin.”

  “Unbelievable.” Hunter shoots a glare that could wilt steel at the back of Jack’s head.

  Oblivious to Hunter’s death stare—which is way better than mine—Jack starts going on about how Vicki miscalculated this or that, we swiped a mountain in the fog and blew out something or other, this is why we don’t fly in winter, blah-whine-blah. I’m done listening to his finger-pointing, which helps us zero, and look out the window. We’re in a huge open field of white, although the snow doesn’t seem deep, not like what it was at the shelter. A thick bundle of trees stands proud in the distance, the snow and cold not affecting them at all. Why can’t I be a tree? Life would be so much easier as a tree.

  Hunter pushes between me and Kai and muscles the door open. Frigid air smacks my cheeks. It’s much colder here than where we came from. The air has teeth. My whole body shudders.

  “Better to stay inside.” Hunter flops back onto his seat. The plane rattles and shifts with his movement, more than it should just from him sitting down. He’s a big guy and this is a small plane, but … I don’t know. Maybe I imagined it.

  “Did you guys feel that?” I say.

  “Jack … ?” Vicki draws out his name. She leans forward and looks hard out the front window, past the propeller. “I don’t think you landed us in a clearing. Well, it is a clearing, but not the kind of clearing you thought it was when you said, ‘We’re in luck, there’s a clearing over there!’”

  He opens his door and hops down, out of the plane. “What are you rambling on a—Whoa.”

  The plane shifts again and we all freeze. In the quiet, I hear something crunching. Outside the cabin door, the ground is distorted and cracked.

  Not the ground. That’s ice. Snow-covered ice. We’re on a lake! And it isn’t completely frozen yet.

  “Trees,” I say, my ragged thoughts unable to form full sentences. “Trees need dirt. Get to the trees.” I’m not talking to anyone other than myself, but Hunter responds, “Okay. The trees aren’t that far. We just have to get out of the plane really carefully, and then run for it.”

  “You mean like Jack’s already doing?” Kai says.

  My face snaps toward the door’s opening and, sure enough, Jack is halfway to the trees, feet kicking up tufts of snow behind him.

  “That weasel!” Vicki shouts. “This is his plane. The captain goes down with the ship, Jack-hole!”

  Jack doesn’t turn or slow down until he’s reached the trees, then he waves his arms at us like, Why are you still out there? Move!

  “Okay.” Hunter lets out a long, slow, steady breath. “Okay. We can do this.”

  If I had an ounce of his confidence, however forced—

  “Vicki, you go first. You’re the smallest; your movement might not affect anything. Get out. Slowly. As soon as you’re clear, run.”

  “I’m not gonna leave y’all like that—”

  “Yes, you are,” Hunter says, gently but firmly. “It’s okay. We’ll be right behind you.”

  She smashes her lips together, a whirlpool of worry swirling in her eyes, then nods and starts her agonizingly slow crawl across the pilot seats to the door Jack left open. Nothing moves. Everything but Vicki is on pause. I don’t even think my heart is beating right now. She drops out the door and takes a few tentative steps, then flat-out r
uns, following the line of Jack’s footprints through the snow, slipping sideways a couple of times, but she doesn’t fall.

  Hunter lets out a quick breath. Two people down, three to go.

  “My stuff,” Kai says. “I can’t leave it here. What if the whole plane goes down?”

  “Then you can get new stuff,” I say.

  “With what money? Yours?”

  “Yes! Why is that always a problem for you?”

  “It wouldn’t be a problem if you’d stop offering it whenever I need something. Like money can solve everything.”

  “I’m sorry, Kai. I didn’t realize my wanting to help you was such a burden.”

  “Gabi …” He sighs. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then why won’t you let me take care of it for you?”

  “Give a man a fish, you feed him for a day—”

  “Are you really going to start spouting quotes right now?” Hunter snaps. “Get off your transcendental horse. Gabi’s right. The pack isn’t worth it.”

  “Yes, it is. Some of that stuff is Dad’s. It’s not replaceable.” The look he gives Hunter is painfully reminiscent of Caesar’s after Brutus stabbed him. Kai gets up from his seat, crouching under the low ceiling. My breath hitches, but nothing happens. “Don’t move. Either of you. My bag is right there.” He points behind my seat. “I’m just gonna grab it and …”

  His fingers find a strap and pull. The rucksack is as wide as he is and half as long. I could fit inside it if I hugged my knees. And if it wasn’t already packed full. Kai threads an arm under one of the shoulder straps and creeps toward the exit. The plane takes a big awkward dip and we all brace ourselves against the walls and ceiling. The door opening is pointed more at the ice now than the horizon, and the bottom lip is below the ice. Water starts to seep into the cabin.

  I pull my feet up. With Kai and his friends at the lake a few weeks ago, I imagined what it would be like to plunge my whole body into cold water. I’d rather not find out today if my imagination was accurate.

  “Okay, new plan,” I say. “On the count of three, we all make a mad dash for it. I’ll lead, then Kai right behind me, then Hunter. One two three, all together. Okay?”

  They nod. But nothing about this is okay.

  “One,” Hunter says.

  I stand up, and water rushes over my boots. Thank God for overpriced waterproofing and insulation. Kai sidesteps to give me more space to move. The cabin creaks and moans, like a bear woken from a cozy nap, ready to shred whatever disturbed it.

  “Two …”

  Vicki’s shouts drift to me from across the ice. I focus on Vicki, her arms waving, her body bouncing up and down. That’s my target. Just get to Vicki.

  “Three!”

  From the lip of the opening, I leap over broken ice, but my maneuver is neither graceful nor athletic, and I land on all fours. Faster than I thought possible, Kai is right beside me, pulling me upright by the elbow. I stagger to my feet. The ice beneath me is solid. Now we just have to—

  “Run!” Hunter yells.

  Where is he? I dare a glance over my shoulder but don’t see him—or half the plane. It’s going down nose first, the back end tipped up like the sinking Titanic. Oh God … Is he still in there?

  Kai tugs me along. Too fast. I can’t keep up. Behind us an angry splash urges my legs to pump harder. My feet slide this way and that; my knees twist and threaten to snap. It’s like trying to surf on a board that’s been greased. My next step, I wipe out completely, losing my grip on Kai’s hand and slamming my butt onto the hard ice.

  It cracks and gives a little beneath me.

  A line of footprints roughs up the snow ahead of me. We all ran on the same line, all those feet pounding this weak spot before I got to it. My butt was the last straw. The ice couldn’t take any more.

  Kai’s momentum kept him going after our hands separated. He stops and spins, notices I’m down, then immediately starts back toward me, hand extended to help me up. But his attention shifts, his eyes darting back and forth. “Where’s Hunter?”

  “Wait, stop!” I flash a palm toward him. “The ice is breaking. It won’t hold both of us.”

  He freezes in place, eyes back on me. “Okay, Gabi, don’t try to stand or even crawl,” he says with a forced calm, each word tensed and vibrating like a plucked guitar string. “You need to roll over to me.”

  “Roll?” My teeth chatter hard, catching my bottom lip, and I taste blood. As I turn and face Kai, a red droplet hits the snow and freezes into a tiny marble. Where the snow has been brushed away, the ice is spiderwebbed with thin fractures. Below it, something swims by. So many things are able to thrive in this environment—why can’t I? Why have my fingers gone so numb that they hurt? Why is my heart beating in overdrive, pumping blood everywhere, yet I feel none of its warmth? It isn’t fair.

  The fish swims by again, then disappears from view. How deep is this water? I’m already too cold. My muscles are locking up. If I fall in …

  Warm thoughts. Warm thoughts. Warm thoughts. California. Sunshine. Beaches. Desert. Jalapeños. Heartburn. I’ll take anything even remotely lukewarm over this.

  “I can’t do this. Kai—” My throat closes up, anticipating the worst. “I can’t do this.”

  “Don’t give up,” he says. Now his attention is focused intently on me and nothing else, never taking his eyes off me, not even to check on his brother, who still hasn’t passed us. “I’m not giving up on you. Don’t you give up on you. I’m right here. All you have to do is get to me. Just imagine you’re rolling down a grassy hill. You can do it. You’ve done harder things before, Gabi, this is nothing.”

  This is nothing? I’d take a total wipeout on my surfboard over this, a million times over and over and over. But that isn’t the card I’ve been dealt, and I’ve got nothing up my sleeve to cheat my way out of this. Kai’s right—money can’t solve everything. “Okay, I—I’m coming.”

  I do as Kai said and roll toward him like I used to roll down grassy hills as a child, expecting to fall through the earth any second, but I don’t. And I don’t breathe again until his arms are around me, helping me stand.

  “Are you okay?” he says, squeezing me. All I can do is nod, fast and furious. I can’t stop shaking. My whole body is buzzing with adrenaline.

  “Hunter!” Vicki and Jack yell in unison. “Get Hunter!”

  Kai’s face snaps away from me and he curses low and hard. I turn to follow his gaze. The first thing I see is the giant hole in the ice left by the plane, but it’s not just water. Chunks of thick broken ice bob on the surface and two arms flail up between them, grasping for anything stable but finding nothing. Hunter manages to get his elbows up on a solid edge and pushes—only to fall back under the water when the ice gives beneath him.

  Kai wrestles with his pack for a second and it falls off his shoulders, then he digs out a rope. “Get off the ice, Gabi. And get help.” He pushes his pack closer to the shore, away from the cracked ice. “We have to get him warm and dry as quickly as possible. Go!” He doesn’t wait for me to take action before he’s heading back toward his brother.

  Go where? I don’t even know where we are! But Hunter could die if I don’t find someone to help us, give us a ride to somewhere, at least. I run to the shore, practically flying. I can’t feel half my face. But God, that has to be nothing compared to what Hunter is feeling right now. Or not feeling.

  Just before I reach the trees, Jack runs past me, back out onto the ice.

  “Jack, wait, it’s too dangerous!” Vicki screams, but he keeps going.

  I tell myself not to look out onto the ice, afraid of what I might see, but my eyes don’t listen. Kai and Jack, standing at a distance from the wreckage, tug on the rope they’ve somehow gotten looped around Hunter’s chest. He doesn’t push himself up this time. He hangs there, limply, but together Kai and Jack manage to drag him out. Once he’s clear of the broken edge, I heave a sigh of relief, but he doesn’t move.

  He isn�
�t moving.

  “We have to get help, Vicki.” I fumble through my pocket and grasp my cell phone, then tap out 9-1-1. No signal. No nothing. It was worth a try, but now I’m tempted to throw this useless thing into the hole in the ice. “Where can we get help?”

  “I don’t know …” Vicki scans the area quickly, does a complete circle, then hustles ahead of me, some invisible hand pushing her along with ease. “This way! I see something!”

  The farther we go uphill, the farther I fall behind. Shock and anxiety have turned my legs to jelly, wobbling out of control. But still, I keep sight of Vicki’s bright red curls and keep running.

  “Vicki, wait up,” I say, but she doesn’t hear me. I’m losing steam. No, the steam is long gone. I don’t even have enough to run on fumes. A weight presses down on my chest; every breath is a struggle, prickling with chills. There are ice floes in my blood, crystallizing my veins.

  “We’re almost there!” Vicki’s shout ripples back to me, light-years away. She’s a speeding comet even in this cold. Nothing ever slows her down.

  I see a small cabin ahead—I think?—and Vicki is running up to the door, but my vision is strained. It’s too bright out here, with the sun glaring off the snow, and an odd thought crosses my mind—I should have worn sunglasses. Here in the frozen north, I need my shades as much as I needed them in Southern California.

  When I catch up to Vicki I can see the cabin is real, not just some arctic version of a mirage. I nearly collapse with relief, but then I realize it might be empty. And locked. Vicki pounds on the cabin door, and we both scream various versions of, “Is anyone home? We need help!” But no one answers.

  “Now what—”

  Vicki kicks open the door. “That’s what,” she says, rushing inside.

  “This is someone’s house—we can’t just break in!”

  “Yes, we can, and we did. Unless you’re okay with Hunter freezing to death?” She darts around the rooms. I hang back in the doorway and look around. It’s empty. There’s a small hearth and some basic furniture, like a wooden table and two chairs in the main room, but it doesn’t appear lived in. Everything is dark and dingy. Musty.