Lovers and Gamblers

by Collins, Jackie

  ‘Can you help me get us over to the door – if we crawl…’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  Together, like some monstrous snail, they managed to twist onto their bellies and inch their way towards the door, the couch still attached to them.

  ‘Try and straighten up,’ Al instructed.

  She was biting her lip trying to stop from crying out. Al was so strong, so calm, she didn’t feel at all afraid.

  He managed to unlock the door, but it wouldn’t open. If he had been able to see in the dark he would have known why – the frame at the top was crushed down – holding the door tight. It was completely jammed. ‘It’s no good, forget it.’ If he wasn’t trapped by the safety belt he could kick the goddamn door in. Thank Christ Dallas wasn’t showing any signs of panic. Thank Christ the plane hadn’t gone up in flames.

  Then he had an idea. He would cut them free – he had a manicure case in one of the drawers – he also had a torch. If he could find both items he could cut them loose, then with the torch see their way out of the emergency exit – it was better than staying here and roasting to death.

  Only one problem. The drawers had come out and splintered to pieces all over the room. On their hands and knees, with the lunatic couch attached to their backs, they would have to crawl around searching. Well, it beat the hell out of sitting around doing nothing.

  * * *

  At first light Cristina recovered consciousness.

  Slowly she opened her eyes and stared up in surprise. For a moment she had no idea where she was. Her mind seemed utterly blank. Then slowly it all started to come back. Nino. Louis. The plane. The storm…

  She was lying in what seemed like a forest, her clothes soaking wet and torn, every bone in her body aching. She couldn’t summon the strength to move, so she just lay there for a while trying to collect her thoughts. It dawned on her that somehow she must have been thrown from the plane, and gradually, tentatively, she attempted to get up – marvelling at the fact that nothing seemed to be broken.

  When she stood, the world spun round. She felt very giddy and sick, and there was an empty gnawing feeling in her stomach.

  She sat down abruptly, leaning against the trunk of an enormous tree. She had never seen such giant trees before and wondered where she was. Then she wondered where the plane was, and Louis and Nino and all the others.

  Oh God – surely she wasn’t alone out here?

  She stood again, her legs barely able to support her they were shaking so much. Her shoes had been ripped from her in the fall, and her bare feet were covered in small cuts and scratches, in fact every exposed inch of her body was bruised and battered. Fortunately she had been wearing jeans, and they were intact apart from being soaking wet, but the thin cotton shirt on her top half was ripped and torn. The sweater she had worn casually tied around her shoulders was gone.

  The rain had stopped, but the ground was sodden and overgrown, and she was frightened to walk on it lest she stepped on any insects – she had always had a phobia about anything creepy crawly, and the air was alive with animal and bird chirpings.

  But what else could she do? She had to look for the plane. Had to hope that she wasn’t the only survivor.

  Resolutely she set off.

  * * *

  Paul opened his eyes, and the pain in his legs was so intense that he shut them again and willed himself to lose consciousness. He wondered if he still had legs. What was the story about amputees still feeling pain in legs and arms that had long gone. ‘Nurse!’ he called sharply. ‘NURSE!’

  Cathy touched his arm. ‘We’re still on the plane,’ she mumbled softly. ‘Nobody’s come yet. We’re trapped, can’t move.’

  He opened his eyes and groaned. He had thought he was in a hospital. An English country hospital.

  He turned to look at Cathy. She was a horrible blood-caked sight.

  It was just beginning to get light. ‘How long have we been here?’ he croaked. His throat felt dry, and there was a bitter taste in his mouth.

  ‘Hours, I think. Evan’s alive. Bernie was… I don’t know if he still is. I don’t know about the others… We’re trapped. We’ll just have to wait ’til the rescuers get here.’

  ‘Al?’ questioned Paul, his voice sounding unreal. ‘Where is Al?’

  Cathy shook her head.

  Paul pushed desperately with his body, trying to shift the debris that was imprisoning them. He summoned every bit of strength he could muster, but it was to no avail.

  He leaned out to look down the aisle, and was shocked to see the plane reach an abrupt and jagged end half-way down. He could see Bernie slumped in his seat with the lethal-looking metal protruding from his chest. The fat man’s face was deathly pale, his mouth hanging blankly open. But he was still taking shallow breaths.

  Paul looked to the back of the plane. The door to Al’s compartment was badly crushed. The body of Luke lying, as if still on guard, in front of it, surrounded by his own blood. And the inert huddled shape of Evan silent and unmoving.

  ‘Evan!’ croaked Paul. Cathy had said the boy was alive. ‘EVAN!’

  Cathy mumbled, ‘He’s in shock. I tried to get him to help us before. He’s in shock…’

  ‘EVAN!!’ roared Paul.

  The boy turned slowly and regarded his uncle blankly.

  ‘Come here,’ said Paul kindly. ‘Are you hurt?’

  Evan shook his head.

  ‘See if you can get us out… Start pulling the metal away at the front of the pile. Come on, Evan, hurry up.’

  ‘I can’t do it,’ replied Evan, ‘I can’t do it. I have to wait here for my mother. If I don’t, she’ll be angry with me.’

  ‘Just try,’ persuaded Paul. ‘Your father would want you to. If you can get me out, I can go and look for him.’

  Evan turned his back, covering his ears and leaning his head against the compartment door.

  ‘He’s in shock,’ repeated Cathy.

  ‘I couldn’t give a shit what he’s in. He has to help us. Evan, goddammit – get over here and help us.’

  Evan pressed his hands tightly over his ears and closed his eyes. He wondered how long it would be before his mother came for him. He hoped she wouldn’t be cross, it wasn’t his fault.

  * * *

  It seemed to take hours, but Al finally found the scissors, and started cutting through the thick webbing of seat belts. It took a long time, but the relief of getting that terrible contraption off their backs was worth it.

  By the time he had completed the job it was beginning to get light.

  Thank Christ the plane hadn’t gone up in flames. If it had, they would have been finished. So much for the fast, efficient rescue teams in South America. When were they going to appear –tomorrow?

  He laid Dallas on the bed. She was a mass of bruises which were starting to show up in purplish lumps.

  ‘I’m all right,’ she insisted. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ She shared his fear of fire.

  He threw himself against the door in an attempt to shift it, but by this time he could see it was hopelessly jammed.

  He hurried to the emergency exit.

  ‘Christ!’ he exclaimed. ‘We’re in some sort of jungle!’

  Dallas struggled to sit up. ‘What are you talking about?’ Her ribs were throbbing with pain, but she had decided, after feeling them carefully, that they were only badly bruised.

  ‘A jungle!’ Al continued. ‘Trees fifty friggin’ feet tall! I don’t believe it!’

  Dallas joined him at the window.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said in awe.

  ‘How this plane made it in one piece…’

  She nodded in agreement.

  ‘How we made it…’

  ‘Al – what about the others?’

  He suddenly felt tired. He wanted to lie down, go to sleep, and wake up in a luxury hotel somewhere. He didn’t want to start crawling out of the plane to discover – who knew what?

  He wanted to pick up a phone and tell Paul or Luk
e or Bernie to find out what the fuck was going on.

  He didn’t need this whole frigging scene.

  Dallas said quietly, ‘At least we’re alive.’

  He put his arms around her and held her tightly. ‘Jesus – Dallas – I don’t think I can go out there… I don’t want to find them… I can’t… I just can’t do it…’

  ‘Sure,’ she agreed soothingly. ‘I know you don’t want to go. But we have to. We have to see if they’ve radioed for help. We have to see if…’ She trailed off. They both knew what they had to see. They had to see if anyone else was alive.

  * * *

  Cristina struggled through the heavy undergrowth, stopping to rest every few minutes.

  She had shut every thought out of her head except finding the aircraft. Somehow she had persuaded herself that if she found the plane, everything would be all right.

  As the sun got higher in the sky it started to become very warm, and her clothes dried on her.

  She had discovered a massive lump on the side of her head, and it throbbed painfully.

  Her feet hurt as she squeamishly picked her way along, terrified of stepping on anything that moved. Occasionally she called out in the vain hope that there was someone to hear her. But the only noises were animal ones. A monkey howling in a tree somewhere, strange unusual bird cries, the buzz of flies and mosquitoes.

  She was so hungry, her stomach making angry rumbling noises. There was a tree with delicious-looking red berries growing from it, but she was frightened to pick any in case they were poisonous.

  She paused by the tree anyway, but screamed in terror as a huge spider landed on her bare arm. She shook it off, screaming hysterically, plunging on through the wilderness.

  Then she heard the groans. Awful inhuman sounds.

  * * *

  They knotted the silk sheets from the bed together, and made a crude rope to lower themselves from the exit.

  Dallas had dressed quickly in jeans and shirt. She went down the rope first, landing with a heavy thud on the ground.

  Al followed her, having made sure the rope was secure enough to allow them back up again. If the worst came to the worst, he figured they could at least wait in comfort until the rescuers came. Who else had the luck to crash out with a double bed at their disposal?

  Deliberately he tried to keep his thoughts light. He didn’t even want to consider what they might be about to find.

  Almost at once they saw that only the back half of the plane existed.

  They struggled around to the gaping, jagged, open edge.

  ‘Anyone there?’

  Paul’s voice came back faintly, ‘We’re trapped. Help us.’

  Jubilantly Al hugged Dallas. ‘They’re alive!’ he enthused. ‘Evan – Evan – can you hear me?’

  Paul’s voice weakly, ‘Can you get us out of here?’

  ‘I’ll try and climb in,’ Dallas volunteered. ‘If I can stand on your shoulders…’

  ‘Forget it. We’ll get some more sheets – secure them, then we can both go up.’ He shouted out: ‘Hang on. Is everyone all right in there?’

  Paul twisted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘We’re trapped,’ he shouted back, ‘Cathy and me. Bernie’s hurt badly. Luke’s dead, I think. Evan’s all right. Hurry up.’ He could hardly stand the pain any more. Cathy’s eyes were closed, she seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. He could understand why. She was in a worse state than he. And that cruddy kid. Nothing wrong with him – but he couldn’t even help. Couldn’t even get them some water. When he got free he would break his scrawny little neck.

  Flies had invaded the plane, it seemed like hundreds of them, and their main targets appeared to be Bernie and Cathy. Paul tried to keep them off her face, but every time he brushed them away they were back, settling onto her blood-soaked skin with relish. Luke was another prime target, forcing Evan to move away from his body.

  ‘Your father is alive,’ Paul croaked. ‘He’s coming to help. Get us some water – I can see the dispenser – it’s not broken.’

  Evan ignored him, huddling into an intact seat, and covering himself with a blanket.

  Paul licked his dry lips. If only he was free. It was a miracle that Al was still alive. It was a miracle that any of them were.

  He wondered about the fate of those at the front of the plane. He had heard the explosions last night – he didn’t hold out too much hope.

  It took another hour before Al was able to get a sheet-made rope and gain access to the plane. Then he climbed up.

  ‘Oh, God!’ he murmured in despair, ‘Oh, Jesus Christ!’

  Hurrying, he turned and hauled Dallas up after him.

  * * *

  Nino was sprawled on the ground, his legs bent beneath him at an impossible angle. Across his forehead the skin gaped open exposing a deep cut surrounded by dried blood.

  He was making these awful noises – a heavy groaning sound which ended up as a despairing scream.

  Ineffectually he beat at the flies which buzzed around him, but he was very weak, and as soon as his arms flopped down the flies descended once more.

  At first Cristina was too scared to approach him. She stood partly hidden behind a tree just watching.

  Nino, her lover, her invincible strong revolutionary. Look at him now – wracked with pain, screaming in agony.

  It was his fault she was here. Why couldn’t it have been Louis she had stumbled on?

  Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, she saw a movement in the long grass. With horror she realized it was a snake – a long green and black monster slithering silently towards Nino.

  * * *

  Working feverishly with his bare hands Al pushed and pulled and tore at the debris trapping Paul and Cathy. He was covered in a film of sweat and had stripped down to his undershorts.

  He had been at it for two hours, and his hands were cut and bleeding, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He kept up a stream of bright conversation, making jokes, making light of their whole situation.

  ‘We’re getting there.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Jeeze, Paul, if you think you’re getting ten per cent of this gig – forget it!’

  Dallas was busy too. They had laid Bernie out on the floor, a pillow under his head. He was in a bad way, and they both knew the jagged metal would have to be removed from his chest if he was to have any chance at all.

  ‘We’ll get Cathy and Paul free first,’ Al had muttered, ‘then we’ll pull it out. We’ll need their help. In the meantime fill him up with brandy.’

  She was doing just that – sharing the one bottle that had survived the crash between Bernie, Cathy and Paul.

  Evan was no use at all. Al had tried to slap him into shape, but he had merely burst into tears, and finally they had left him alone, huddled in a seat, staring into space.

  Paul had told them about the hijack. Al was furious. Christ – what kind of idiots was he surrounded by? Didn’t they know enough not to let strangers on his plane? He held his temper and didn’t scream. What was the use of screaming? Who was he going to scream at? Paul – caught underneath a ton of fucking steel? Bernie – whose chances were about as good as Woody Allen fighting Muhammad Ali? Luke – mutilated and dead?

  For once in his life he had no one to scream at. It didn’t bother him. He had other things on his mind – like getting his brother free.

  His hands were red and raw. But he didn’t pause – he kept going. Had to get them free – had to get them out of there.

  He clawed at the twisted metal – keeping up a stream of chat.

  Here he was – the man who had everything. Money. Fame. Power.

  Look where it got you – stuck in some asshole jungle trying to dig your brother out of the shit.

  ‘Dallas,’ he called urgently. ‘I think we’re getting there. Hold this back, I think I can get them out.’

  She rushed to his assistance, holding on to the metal strut he had managed to lift. It was heavy, but she didn’t flinch, although the pain around her ribs
was agony.

  Carefully Al pulled Paul free, dragging him out, leaving him on the floor, and going back for Cathy. She screamed as he moved her, and he could see why. One of her legs from the knee down was almost pulped. Blood and skin and bones. It was a dreadful sight.

  He moved her into the aisle.

  ‘It hurts, it hurts…’ she moaned.

  ‘Let it go,’ Al instructed Dallas.

  She dropped the strut and it clanged back into place.

  At least they were out. He had managed that. Now all they had to do was wait for the goddamn rescue plane – and why was it taking so long?

  * * *

  Cristina stood rooted to the spot. She was unable to move, unable to breathe almost. With wide eyes she watched the huge snake slither and slide its way towards Nino. It seemed to move so slowly, and there was something almost hypnotically beautiful about its measured undulations.

  She knew she should do something. But what? How did you frighten a snake away? And, anyway, if she intervened, it might attack her.

  At least she had to warn Nino. His head was turned away from the approaching snake, she had to shout, do something.

  He let out another of his inhuman yells, and the snake paused, its tongue flicking in and out. It was only about six feet away from its human prey now.

  Cristina willed it to turn and go away. But it didn’t. It slithered forward, raising its head with a hissing sound, and struck purposefully towards Nino’s left leg.

  Simultaneously Cristina screamed out a warning. Nino rolled over, but not quickly enough. The snake had bitten into his leg, and he let out a roar of pure agony.

  The snake slid quietly away, vanishing into the undergrowth as silently as it had appeared.

  ‘Oh, Mother of God!’ Nino bellowed. ‘Save me – save me. Help me – please help me.’

  Cristina stepped out from behind the tree. She was nauseous and hot, dizzy, and racked with stomach pains.

  Nino saw her, and his eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m going to die,’ he said simply. ‘Help me, Cristina. I’m going to die and I don’t want to be alone.’