by Mia Sheridan
The plane hadn’t budged since we’d inched away from the cockpit, and I had to hope that our weight shifting from the front to the back was helping keep the plane steady. For now. Then again, we were now in the center. When we moved to the back, would the plane slide forward even more? I had no way of knowing and the back was the only path out, so I grasped Dane under his arms again and moved backward another few inches, grunting with the effort.
His jeans were soaked in blood—deep red all the way to the cuff of his left leg—and, unbidden, the metallic smell, mixed with the sour tang of my perspiration, brought to mind that night, the night our son was born. Dane had taken care of me—helped me survive the long, grief-filled hours as I’d sweat and bled and suffered—hadn’t he? I saw his face in my mind’s eye now, the expression of fear and heartache. All these years, I hadn’t ever allowed myself to go back to that overly bright hospital room, but the vision, the feel of those horrific moments, came to me now when I was too terrified to put up defenses. And so, too, did the stark love that had been in my husband’s eyes. So much had happened after that, but that night, that night, he’d been my strength.
And right now, I would be his.
With a huge heave, I got him to the edge of the opening, setting him down gently again as I caught my breath. The edge where the metal had apparently twisted and broken off was sharp and jagged, in essence a barbed wire fence. Panic rose inside me again but I pushed it down, taking a deep, heaving breath. I would figure this out. I looked around for something to lay over it that was thick enough to shield Dane’s back from being shredded as I dragged him out. Could I just roll him out? I pictured his belly being skewered by a razor-sharp edge and grimaced. No, I couldn’t risk hurting him even worse than he already was.
The carpet had been ripped away with the tail end of the plane and apparently, the force had been enough to dislodge it from the floor of the short aisle because it was off center hanging loose. If I could make a cut in the thick material, it could also serve as something to lay him on once we hit the snow to drag him to shelter until help arrived. But first, I would need to cut away a piece large enough to be of use.
Glancing at the cockpit, it looked like the fire was burning itself out, but I still didn’t trust it not to re-ignite when another wire sparked. The smoke was causing my eyes to water. I also didn’t know where the fuel tank was, though I couldn’t imagine it would be up front? I had no clue. In any case, I knew I needed to hurry, but I also needed to move cautiously.
I surveyed the plane again quickly and thought I spotted the handle of my suitcase under the other passenger seat.
Moving as carefully as possible, I stepped over Dane then crawled closer, looking under the seat where my suitcase was wedged against the wall. I reached in and wrenched it free, dragging it toward me, thankful for a small moment of victory. I opened it, my fingers fumbling as I brought out the small travel bag on top of my clothes. It was new. I’d bought it just a few days before when I realized I’d need something to put my shampoo and bathroom accessories in. It had come stocked with a few empty, trial-sized bottles, a toothbrush that folded into its own case, a package of tissues, and a sewing kit. I’d considered tossing the sewing kit—I absolutely did not sew and couldn’t see having a need for it—and I couldn’t remember now if I had or not. I dug around, letting out a small, relieved breath when I found the kit still there. I opened the latch and held the small pair of scissors. They looked even flimsier than I’d remembered. They wouldn’t work on the thick carpet.
“Goddammit!” I looked around wildly again. Maybe I could use the winter coat over the metal? But I didn’t think the material would be strong enough and I’d need that jacket once we got outside. God, I needed it now. Though the fire had temporarily warmed what was left of the interior of the plane, as it smoldered, the frigid air was again noticeable.
I glanced at Dane. He was wearing jeans that were wet with his blood and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Since we were headed to Colorado where it was very cold this time of year, I assumed he had a winter jacket in his own bag, but that would have to wait. Getting us out of this unstable plane was the first priority. Getting Dane’s bleeding under control was the second. Then I’d focus on not freezing to death before a rescue team got here.
I needed something sharp. I looked around quickly, spotting the bar next to the cockpit where Dane had retrieved the Bailey’s he’d put in my coffee that morning. I crawled over to it, aware of every sound around me, and unhooked the latch. There were several mini bottles of hard liquor, a couple of sodas, three water bottles, and a basket of what looked to be peanuts and pretzels. Everything was lying haphazardly, but nothing was broken. I picked up one of the mini bottles of liquor and found that it was plastic, not glass. Damn! The small top cabinet had a glass front though, and I hesitated only a moment before bringing my sweater over my hand and smashing it. It shattered immediately, the glass raining onto the floor at my feet. I bent, picking up the piece that most closely resembled a knife. It wasn’t thick glass which had aided me in easily smashing it, so I wasn’t sure if it would work for cutting something thick like carpet.
My teeth had started to chatter again as I crawled carefully back to Dane, and put my hand on his cheek. He was cold and still very much unconscious, but his pulse continued to thump steadily. I moved my hand upward slightly and felt the large lump under his hair, letting my fingers roam gently over it, my heart stuttering. Oh no, he had a head injury. God, no wonder he was unconscious. I lifted his head very carefully and felt the back of his skull, but didn’t feel any wetness or any other lumps. Just the large one on the side of his head. What if he never regained consciousness? What if there was brain swelling or . . . No, no, don’t think that.
“Just a minute longer. I have to get us out of here, but I can’t injure you any more than you already are. I’ll get you as warm as I can in a few minutes, okay?” Even though my voice sounded breathy and weak, filled with the tears I was barely holding back, the caretaker in me found calm in reassuring him, in speaking through my actions, even though I was well aware he couldn’t hear a word I said. I remembered that when my father had been distressed or in pain from one of his migraines, he’d calmed simply from my soothing voice, and I used that same tone now.
Crawling to the front of the aisle, I pulled a shirt out of my suitcase and wrapped it around the end of my cutting tool and then moved the debris aside, giving me access to the floor. I began slicing at the carpet. It didn’t cut through easily, but it worked to cut it loose as I made swipe after swipe. “Thank you, thank you,” I muttered. Hopefully, dragging it over the sharp metal with Dane on top of it would be enough to protect him. Although with the addition of his weight . . . I’d just have to drag him over it as quickly as possible and pray for the best. This was the best option I could come up with to get us off this plane.
When I’d finally gone from one side of the aisle to the other, I tested the rug and could—thankfully—peel the end off the floor. Good, good. Okay.
Making the short crawl to Dane, I pulled at the carpet under his body and found that it slid toward me, making it easier to move him than dragging his dead weight. This would serve two purposes.
“Okay, this is going to protect your back, but there’s a bit of a drop that I can’t do much about,” I muttered, looking behind me at the drop from the plane to the ground that I estimated to be about three feet. “I’m going to climb down and then pull you over the edge. I’ll try to cushion your fall as much as I can with my own body, all right?”
I knelt on the side of the short drop, careful not to snag myself on the row of mini knives at the edge, and stretched one leg behind me, pausing to determine whether the plane was making any movement. It didn’t seem to be, so I stretched my leg farther, touching ground with my boot. I balanced one leg on the ground and brought my other leg over, both feet sinking into the snow. I took a second to breathe, shivering with the intense cold, before I mustered all my strength, gripped
the edge of the carpet, and pulled. Half of Dane’s body came out the gaping mouth of the plane, his legs still inside. I didn’t allow myself to catch my breath, afraid that a pause would give the metal time to pierce the rug. Instead, I took one quick gulp of breath and pulled again, going down under him, protecting his head with my hands, as the entirety of his body dropped to the ground on top of me. A whoosh of breath released from my lungs at the impact, but the snow had protected us both. After a second, I removed my hands from above me where they were wedged under his head and scooted . . . rolled out from under him.
Getting slowly to my feet, I surveyed the wreckage in front of me. From out here, it was even more jaw-dropping and vomit inducing. Oh God, how had we survived at all? The rear of the plane was completely torn off. From this vantage point, I could see all the jagged, twisted metal that looked as if it’d been peeled back. From what I could see of the side of the plane, it was battered and bent, blood and feathers frozen to the side.
I wanted to look at the front and determine how stable the plane appeared to be wedged between the trees, but it was on an incline, and I feared slipping in my ankle boots.
I needed Dane’s suitcase, because I had to warm him up and get him out of those wet jeans.
Quickly, quickly.
Just this one last trip inside and then I’d tend to Dane.
I kicked at the back of the plane with all my weight and though it groaned slightly, it didn’t budge. “Good enough.” If the plane started sliding while I was in it, I could always take a leaping jump out the back now that Dane was safely outside.
I climbed back over the jagged ledge, crawling inside once again and first dragging my own suitcase to the edge and then going back for Dane’s, finally spotting his black, leather duffle under a piece of debris near where the damage to the back began. It was stuck on something, but I finally managed to free it, pulling it to where my own suitcase waited.
I stood up, taking a second to glance around the plane before making a quick decision to crawl slowly to the service bar. I carefully opened the cabinet with broken glass still sticking out of the inside frame and gathered the small bottles of liquor, the three waters, and handful of snacks. If a rescue crew didn’t make it to us until tomorrow, we’d need water at the very least. Opening the cabinet below it, there was a roll of garbage bags and nothing else. I took those, too, holding all the items haphazardly under my arms.
As I crouch-walked toward the exit, I spotted the cushion-covered bin behind the seat on the left of the plane and placed my items on the floor, opening it. Yes! Inside was a short stack of blankets and two small pillows. I tossed them toward the suitcases and then re-gathered the drinks and snacks.
I glanced around one final time to determine if there was anything else that might be helpful, but if there was, I didn’t know where to find it. The fire had smoldered out in the cockpit, but the entire area appeared to be a blackened, melted shell.
How did this happen? How in the world did we end up here? It felt surreal, like a terrible, horrible nightmare, and yet I knew very well it wasn’t. The chill permeating my bones and the horror lodged in my chest left no doubt it was all too real.
I left the plane just as I had before, pulled Dane on the carpet a few feet uphill—my muscles burning—then returned for the bags, pulling them into the snow. I unzipped Dane’s and placed the blankets and pillows inside as the snow seemed to be coming down harder and I didn’t want them to get wet. He had a winter jacket folded inside and I grabbed that and a pair of socks.
I put the socks over his freezing-cold hands and then folded his arms over his chest, laying the waterproof jacket over his upper body and tucking it around him. Hopefully, using one of the blankets under his head would prevent further injury. That would have to do for now. The way he was so deathly still, the way he gave no reaction as I maneuvered him, made me want to sob with fear. Even with the whack to the head, was it normal for someone to be unconscious for so long? It couldn’t be, could it? Was there irreparable damage? Misery and fear rose inside me, threatening to burst forth. Suck it back, suck it back. You don’t have time for that now.
Do what you need to do. Just do what you need to do.
I collected the drinks and snacks on the edge of the plane and put those in my suitcase, removing my jacket. God, I was freezing.
My breath came out in small bursts of white vapor as I looked for anything that might work as a temporary shelter where I could tend to Dane’s wound and get us both warmed up. I needed to get him out of the snow, but we needed to stay close to the wreckage so the rescuers could find us when they spotted the plane.
A huge cliff rose vertically to the left. Behind us—where the plane lay—and to the right, were steep drop-offs. But there was a grove of pine trees and what looked to be larger boulders about a hundred feet up a hill in front of us, that leveled out to solid ground. That looked to be as good a place as any—at least from where I was standing. Would I be able to drag him up the hill? It looked so far and I was half dead with fatigue already.
I hiccupped a quiet sob. I had no idea how I was going to manage all that I needed to do. And I was alone. Terrified and alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dane
Oh Jesus, someone had put my head in a vise. I moaned, but the small reverberation of sound caused a stab of pain, so I forced myself to remain quiet. It was dark, pitch black, and I was cold, so damn cold. But there was some sort of warmth in front of me and I pressed myself toward it, seeking any form of heat, comfort in whatever hell I had somehow ended up in. Something soft tickled my face and I inhaled a slow, careful breath, smelling Audra, her hair, the scent of her. I was dreaming, but I hurt. I couldn’t make any sense of it. Where am I?
I floated in the strange sea of cold pain, images and memories drifting aimlessly through my disconnected brain: Audra in the snow, her eyes filled with love as I entered her body, the way she’d looked on our wedding day, so beautiful and so damned young, and then her shattered expression as she’d sat in a hospital bed, a small, cold bundle in her arms. My chest caught on the vision, and I came closer to the surface of whatever dark sea I was under. Closer, closer . . . the smell of pine and dirt mixing with the smell of Audra, the woman I’d know in any darkness—no matter how deep, no matter how thick and fathomless.
I was lying on something hard and cold, sort of prickly, and I could hear the howling of wind all around. Wind or water? I moved, just a slight stretching of limbs, and my left thigh throbbed with pain, though not quite as badly as my head. Grimacing, I finally lifted my heavy lids all the way but was only met with more blackness. My heart careened in my chest and I sucked in a small breath. Was I blind? But no, as my eyes adjusted, shadows began to take shape. I wasn’t blind, I was just somewhere really, really dark.
Where was I? Vague visions of a huge flock of birds flying right at me prodded at my mind . . . the plane . . . birds had taken out both engines. I’d tried to find a place to land, anywhere . . . anywhere. I flinched as my brain worked to pull forth the information. There had only been massive rocks, cliffs, and trees. And I’d . . . I’d finally spotted an open area ahead and used every muscle in my body to guide the piece of useless machinery toward it. But we’d careened off the side of a cliff and I’d fought to stay conscious, just to put the plane down . . . the memories all blurred. I couldn’t recall anything else.
I tested my body again, wiggling my toes and moving my fingers to assess any other injuries. Were we still on the plane, buried under the snow somewhere? Trapped inside a twisted piece of metal? We. Audra. With a sharp intake of breath, I tried to sit up and grunted, something splitting my head open with the movement. I collapsed back on the prickly ground.
“Dane?” came a whisper in the dark. Thank God. I felt Audra turn her body toward mine.
Relief hit me so strong I began shaking, not with cold, but with overwhelming thankfulness she was okay. She was right beside me. Wherever we were, she was here. “Audra?” I
tried to croak but only the Au sound made its way past my lips.
She let out a small sob and though it cost me, I moved my body toward her, reaching for her, gathering her body to mine. I felt her palm reach my cheek and for a moment she just ran her hand over my face, moving to the place on my head where the pain seemed to be centered. I groaned softly again, and this time, the reverberation didn’t hurt quite as much.
“Shh,” she said. And then she moved away for just a moment and when she came back, she held what felt like a bottle of water to my lips. Oh God, water. Water. I drank greedily, recognizing the depth of my thirst. But she pulled the water away, and though I tried to follow it with my mouth, she put her fingers to my lips. “I don’t have much left.” It sounded like she was crying and though a million questions were half-formed in my head, I was still so tired, so damn tired. And the pain.
Her fingers were back a moment later and she was putting something in my mouth. “Chew,” she instructed, and so I did. Peanuts. She was feeding me peanuts.
After she’d fed me a small handful, she turned away again and when she put her fingers back to my lips, she said, “This is the last Tylenol. I’m going to give you another drink of water and you need to swallow this, okay?”
“Okay,” I croaked, taking the pill she offered. A second later, I lay back down, and Audra did too, moving against me, her hand on my face once more.
“I didn’t know if you’d wake up,” she said, her voice teary. “I was so scared.”
I worked to organize my thoughts. I only had a limited amount of energy and I wanted to ask the right questions. “How long?” I finally managed.