Uncontrollable (Beyond Human)

by Nina Croft

  The plane gave a jolt and lurched to the side and Quinn put out a hand on the back of the sofa to balance himself. Mel staggered but stopped herself falling. The floor shuddered beneath his feet. They were heading down now, steeply from the angle of the plane. He could hear the air whistling past them. He reached out for the pilot’s mind. Totally focused. There was no room for fear. They had only minutes.

  “Sit,” he said to Mel. She gave a quick nod and sat in the seat next to Martin. Quinn took the chair beside her. He watched as she fastened the seat belt, but her hands were steady. “You’re coping well.”

  She cast him a glance. “It’s my FBI training,” she said. “Never show any fear.”

  So maybe she was afraid.

  Were they going to die?

  He couldn’t get his head around it. He didn’t want to die.

  “We’re not going to die,” Kaitlin said in his head. “Well, I’m not, anyway. I still have things to do.”

  “None of us are going to die.”

  “Good.”

  Mel stared straight ahead, her face composed, but a pulse throbbed in her throat. Her hands were flat against the armrests, her knuckles white, and without thinking, he reached out, pried her fingers loose, and slid his hand into hers, then squeezed. She flashed him a look and a quick smile.

  “Aw. Isn’t that sweet.” That was Kaitlin, but as he glanced her way, she reached out and took Martin’s hand in hers.

  “You all need to get in the brace position,” the attendant said from behind them. “We’re going down.”

  He glanced out the window, just as they came out of the cloud. The ground was below them. Close. They were speeding toward it, still listing to the side, and he could make out trees and areas of water. A large lake was up ahead, presumably where the pilot was heading. Then he leaned forward, keeping hold of Mel’s hand, but placing his free hand on his head. Around him, the others did the same. Without thinking, he slipped into the pilot’s head. His mind was clear of fear, everything focused on getting the plane down. He could see the ground racing toward them. The large expanse of water, so close now, he could make out the water lilies at the edges. They were going in too steeply, and he pulled up as hard as he could, the plane leveling slightly. Then they hit the water. A huge jolt slammed into them, the pilot’s mind went blank, and Quinn shot forward in his seat, only to be brought up short by the seat belt. A loud roar filled his ears. Something hit him on the shoulder, but he felt no pain. He still had hold of Mel, and he gripped her hand harder, forced himself to concentrate. They were slowing, but still moving fast, and he kept his head down. He reached out for the pilot but found…nothing. Then he moved to the co-pilot, found him awake and fighting the controls. The man could see nothing out of the front of the plane—a sheet of water covered the cockpit windows. But the plane wasn’t responding, and they were going too fast and—

  There was a huge shuddering thump. Mel was dragged free of his grip and everything went black.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mel couldn’t see. Couldn’t move.

  Panic flooded her mind, and her breaths came hard and fast as she struggled against the bonds. But she wasn’t going anywhere, and she forced herself to inhale slowly, then exhale. Finally, she opened her eyes.

  Chaos. For a moment she couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. Nothing appeared right. She blinked, then realized her chair must have come free, because she was lying on her side, her cheek pressed to the carpeted floor. She fumbled with the catch of the seat belt, her fingers shaking.

  The plane had been hit.

  They’d gone down.

  Get a grip.

  This was her first flight in this time. It could have gone better.

  A hand covered her own, and the catch came free, releasing her. The same hand gripped her shoulder as she struggled to rise.

  “Just lie still for a moment. Are you okay?”

  She looked up into Quinn’s dark blue eyes and relief flowed through her system. Was she okay? She did a quick mental check over. She had some bruises but that was all. She gave a nod. “I’m fine. How’s everyone else?”

  Releasing his hold on her, he straightened, then held out his hand. She gripped it hard. He pulled her to her feet and she stood for moment, forcing her legs to steady her. Her fingers trembled as she ran a hand through her hair. But she’d told the truth; she was fine.

  “Kaitlin’s hurt—looks like a broken leg. Martin is unconscious, but he’s still breathing and there’s no obvious damage. Hopefully, it’s just a bang on the head. The attendant has gone to get a first aid kit.”

  “How about you?” she asked. “Any damage?”

  “A cut on my arm. It’s nothing.”

  She looked closely; his black shirt was wet. He was bleeding, and she reached out and touched him. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

  “It can wait. We need to check out the pilots and get out of here. We’re sitting ducks if anyone comes to finish what they started.”

  It hadn’t occurred to her that they were still in danger. But then her brain was hardly functioning at maximum capacity. She gave a little shake of her head. She had to pull herself together. But she was feeling more than a little lightheaded. It was just relief…she hoped.

  Looking around, her gaze settled on Martin, still in his seat, but he was slumped over, clearly unconscious. She searched and found Kaitlin. Like hers, the seat had come free, hurling the girl across the cabin. She’d gotten herself out—or someone had helped her—and she sat beside it, her back leaning against the cabin wall, her face tight with pain.

  “You go check on the pilots,” she said to Quinn.

  He studied her face, then gave a quick nod. “Yes, ma’am.” Then he leaned closer and dropped a kiss on her lips. “That’s for staying alive,” he said. “I saw you lying there and…” He shook his head. “I’ll be right back.”

  He crossed to the door to the cockpit, picking his way over debris. When he pushed at the door, it didn’t budge, so he pushed harder, finally creating a gap big enough for him to slip inside.

  Mel stood for a moment orientating herself, then turned back as the flight attendant appeared, hurrying over to Martin. Mel came to stand beside her.

  “We need to lay him down,” the woman said.

  Together they got Martin free of his seat belt and laid him out on the floor of the cabin. His face was pale, but he was breathing steadily. A purple lump had formed on the side of his head.

  “I think he’ll be all right,” the attendant said. “I have some medical training—they send us on courses in case of…” She shrugged as she moved her hands over Martin. “No obvious injuries,” she muttered.

  She was a pretty woman, around thirty, with dark hair caught up in a sleek bun at the back of her head and perfect makeup, which had survived the crash without a smudge.

  “What’s your name?” Mel asked.

  “Elizabeth. Liz.”

  “I’m Mel.”

  Liz picked up her first aid kit and they crossed to where Kaitlin leaned against the wall, her teeth gritted against the pain, her hand clutching her right thigh. Mel crouched down beside her. Kaitlin’s face was white, and her eyes almost black. The shock of pink at the front of her hair was the only flash of color.

  “How are you doing?” Mel asked.

  “Well, let me tell you, I have had better days. I should have gone straight to fucking Disney World.”

  “We’re going to have to cut those pants off you,” Liz said.

  “No! I love these pants. I suspect these pants are all that’s holding me together.” She licked her lips, then shifted a little, so she was sitting straighter. “The leg is broken. But it hasn’t come through the skin, so there’s no need to look at it. Quinn says we need to get off the plane. So just strap it up and we’ll discuss the pant cutting thing later.”

  Liz studied her for a moment, then gave a quick nod. “It’s going to hurt.”

  Kaitlin gave her an incredulous loo
k. “It fucking hurts now.”

  Liz reached into her pocket and pulled out a bottle of amber liquid—scotch, from the label. She unscrewed the top and handed it to Kaitlin. “This will work faster than any painkiller.”

  Kaitlin’s hands were shaking as she took the bottle. She took a slug and gave a grimace. Then another slug.

  Liz straightened and glanced around the cabin. “We need something to use as a splint, to hold the leg straight.” She disappeared back through the door and returned a few seconds later carrying a two-foot pole. Next, she opened the first aid kit and pulled out a large bandage.

  “You ready?” she asked Kaitlin.

  “No.” She screwed up her eyes. “But go on. Do it.”

  Mel reached out and took the girl’s hand—the one that wasn’t clutching the bottle—holding it tight while Liz took hold of her ankle and gently pulled the leg straight.

  Kaitlin’s fingers locked tight around Mel’s hand, and her whole body went rigid. Then the breath left her, and she slumped over. Mel caught the bottle as it slipped from her fingers. Liz laid the pole along the leg and quickly wrapped it in place with the bandage. As she finished, Kaitlin’s eyes flickered open.

  “Ow, ow, ow.”

  Liz plucked a bottle of pills from the kit and shook out two. “Open up.”

  Kaitlin obediently opened her mouth and Liz placed the pills on her tongue. Mel handed her the bottle, and she washed them down with a mouthful of scotch. Then she sat back, eyes closed, a single tear spilling down over her cheek.

  “So, brat, it looks like all we need to do to make you do as you’re told is break a leg,” Quinn said from behind her.

  Kaitlin’s eyes opened, then narrowed. “You know, I woke up this morning and thought, should I go see Quinn? Or should I go to Disney World? Guess I made the wrong freaking decision.”

  “We’re alive, and I’m betting none of the rides at Disney would get your adrenaline going like a plane crash did.”

  “Yeah, you did great, Quinn—you really know how to show a girl a good time.”

  Kaitlin was clearly in pain, but she would heal…if they got the chance. It was time to get away from here and find out what had happened. Mel straightened, then turned to Quinn. “The pilot?”

  “He’s dead. Probably whiplash—broke his neck.”

  She heard a gasp from Liz. Had they been friends?

  “The co-pilot’s alive, though,” Quinn continued. “He passed out, but he’s coming around now. We need to salvage what we can from the plane and get away from here. That’s not going to be easy with two of us incapacitated.”

  “I’m not incapacitated,” Kaitlin said. “Though maybe a little inebriated.” She took a slug of the scotch. “Just give me a moment and I’ll be right as rain.”

  “Of course you will.” He blew out his breath then turned to Liz. “We need food, blankets, water. Are there any weapons on board?”

  “Weapons?”

  “We were just shot out of the sky. There’s a good chance they were monitoring the flight and know we’re down. Weapons would be good.”

  Liz looked at him for a moment and then gave a quick nod. “There are a couple of pistols in a lock box in the cockpit.”

  “Go get them. We’ll start on the other stuff.”

  When Liz had gone, Quinn turned to her. “Okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine. Where are we? Do you really think they’ll come after us?”

  “They went to a hell of a lot of trouble to bring us down. So, yes. In all likelihood, they’re going to check to make sure they did the job properly. On the plus side, we’re deep inside the Okefenokee swamp. It will be hard to get to us by land, so that should give us some time to get away. Let’s go have a look at where we are exactly.” He crossed to the external door, pulled the handle, and it swung upward. Mel came to stand beside him and they looked out. The bottom of the door was level with the water and she took an instinctive step back. She hated water, and her heart rate picked up again. She forced her gaze away. Above them, the sky was blue, the clouds had dissipated, and the sun was bright, reflecting off the still lake. Everything looked so peaceful. It was hard to believe they’d just crashed down from the sky.

  Her gaze was drawn back to the water. She swallowed. “Will we sink?”

  “No.” He cast her a look and his brows drew together. “Are you all right? You’ve lost what little color you had.”

  She gave a little lift of her shoulders. “I don’t like water.” She’d never talked about this to anyone, but for some reason, the words came rushing out. “My family drowned in a flood when I was five.” They’d worked the land below a dam that had been blown up.

  “I thought your father was in the FBI?”

  “My adoptive father. He was part of the rescue crew. I was the only survivor.”

  He reached out and stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was a long time ago and my father is fabulous.” She’d probably had a better life. Certainly, a more interesting one.

  “Anyway,” Quinn said. “There’s no need to worry. The lake is shallow—only about five feet here. And we’ve hit the bottom.”

  “Well, that’s one good thing.” She could do this; she wouldn’t let her fears control her. Leaning out the door, she peered along the line of the plane. The tail end was pointing into the middle of a large expanse of water. Heavy forest lined the edges, tall narrow trees reaching high into the sky. There wasn’t a road in sight. Or even a pathway around the bank. Somehow, they were going to have to get out of here, presumably carrying at least Kaitlin, and probably Martin as well; he was still out cold.

  The front end of the plane was pushed into the bank. Obviously, that was what had caused them to stop. They could climb out over the top and slide down over the cockpit but that would be hard carrying a stretcher. And the vegetation looked particularly dense at that point. They’d be torn to pieces.

  She glanced at the monitor on her wrist—it was still functioning. She could request an emergency withdrawal. But if she did that, there was a chance that they wouldn’t send her back. The Bureau might even consider the deaths of everyone on this plane the best result for the job. She wouldn’t risk that. Which meant she was stuck here.

  She turned back and saw that Quinn was tapping at his cell phone, though from his look of frustration, he wasn’t getting anywhere. “The place is locked up tight. No signals getting in or out.”

  Liz appeared at the door of the cockpit, the co-pilot behind her, and they both carried pistols. The co-pilot was tall, around thirty, with sandy blond hair and the tough look of an ex-soldier. Blood trickled down the side of his face from a cut on his forehead, but at least he was up and moving. He halted just inside the cabin and raised his pistol to point directly at Quinn. Clearly, he perceived Quinn to be the biggest threat around here.

  “Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on? Starting with who the fuck shot my plane down.”

  Quinn didn’t answer. For a few seconds, the man’s fingers tightened on the gun, then a look of confusion crossed his face and a frown formed between his eyes.

  “Hand me the gun,” Quinn said.

  Mel glanced between the two of them. Quinn appeared relaxed, concentrating on something she couldn’t see. Finally, the co-pilot took a slow step toward him, then another. The hand holding the gun stretched out, and Quinn plucked it from the man’s fingers. He checked the safety and then pushed it down the back of his pants.

  “Cool,” Kaitlin murmured and took another sip of scotch.

  The co-pilot gave himself a little shake as if coming awake. “What the hell just happened?”

  Quinn shrugged. “If we get out of this, I’ll tell you.”

  “And believe me, that’s a story worth making a bit of effort for,” Kaitlin added.

  Liz stepped forward. She still held the other pistol, but it hung at her side. She was looking between them as though she had no clue what to do.

  “Hand
the gun to Mel,” Quinn said.

  Mel moved forward and took the pistol from Liz’s outstretched hand. She reckoned she’d just seen some mind control at work. It was rumored that the Tel-group had powers beyond pure telepathy. Had Quinn just used some compulsion to get Liz and the pilot to do what he wanted? The implications were huge.

  Quinn pushed a hand through his hair. “Look, I know you have questions and no reason to trust us right now, but the truth is, someone tried to kill us. And while the two of you might not be direct targets, you’ll be just as dead anyway. Our best bet is to work together.”

  The co-pilot gave a curt nod, clearly not happy but accepting Quinn’s words. “My name’s Pete. So, what do we do next?”

  “First, we need to get off this plane and find somewhere we can get a message out. I take it none of the plane’s communication equipment is working?”

  “All dead.”

  “Does anyone know the area?” Mel asked.

  Liz took a small step forward. “I do, a little. My family came here on vacation a couple of times when I was a teenager.”

  “Tell us about it.”

  “It’s not huge. About thirty or forty miles across at the widest.” Easy enough if there was a road and they didn’t have to carry two invalids. “There are trails around the place, too. It’s a big tourist draw.”

  Quinn stepped closer to the doorway and looked out. “So why aren’t we seeing any tourists right now?”

  “There was a fire alert here a couple of days ago. It was on the news. They probably haven’t reopened yet.”

  Mel’s gaze strayed to the window, but there was no sign of smoke in the clear air. That was all they needed.

  Quinn turned back. “So, we get off, find one of these trails, and get the hell out of here.”

  “They could be watching the entrances to the park,” Mel added. “They’ll expect us to go there.”

  “Actually,” Quinn said, “there’s a good chance they’ll think we’re all dead, so they’ll check the plane out first. Which means we need to get out of here as soon as we can. Then we’ll worry about where to go next. Right now, we’re sitting ducks.” He looked around. “We need something to use as stretchers.”