by Chris Pike
“You say that as if you know him.”
Holly didn’t reply. She lowered her gaze then sucked down the remaining bourbon. “I need another drink.”
Dillon took the bottle of bourbon and splashed in another couple of ounces. “Here,” he said, “this should help. Want any more Seven-Up?”
Holly shook her head, downing the drink in one big gulp. She set the glass on the counter. “Everything we’ve worked for and the life we’ve built. Gone, simply gone. I don’t know what to do, or who to turn to. I’m sorry I passed out on you. Sorry about what I said to you in the stairwell. I’m sorry I’m a burden to you.” Her chin dipped and she burst out in tears.
Dillon patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t cry. You’re not a burden. It’ll be okay.”
“No it won’t.” She stifled a sob and wiped the back of her hand across both cheeks.
Dillon tore off a paper towel from the dispenser and handed it to her.
Holly wadded the paper towel and wiped her face. She sniffled and took a couple of big gulps of air. “I can’t believe all those people in the building died. I mean, one minute we are all looking at our text messages, the next a plane obliterates the building.”
Holly paused and took several breaths of air. She swallowed hard. “And to think Marcus was months away from retiring. I can’t get that image of him laying dead on the floor out of my mind. Oh, God, his wife doesn’t even know, and—” She burst out crying, covering her face.
“Don’t cry,” Dillon mumbled.
“—and Marcus was taking care of two grandkids that still depend on him.”
“They’ll be okay. Please don’t cry.”
“I can’t stop.”
“Try. Crying isn’t doing you any good.”
Holly nodded then burst out crying again.
Dillon shook his head. “Come on now. You’ll be okay.” He took a step toward her and put a hand on her shoulder. Patting her shoulder he said, “You’re going to be okay.”
“How can anything be okay again?”
“It just will. There, there,” he said.
“Okay,” Holly sniffled.
“You’re here with me. We’ve got food. Heck, I’ve even got an entire cabinet of good booze, so it you want to get shit-faced you can. I’ve even got a dog you can pet. And there’s left over chicken casserole in the fridge, which you need to eat tonight.”
Holly gulped a big breath of air. She took the paper towel and patted her cheeks again. Her shoulders dropped, her head went limp, and she rested her head against Dillon’s chest.
Dillon moved his hands to the back of her head, slowly brushing her hair then encasing the back of her neck. Holly leaned into him and put a hand on his back.
“It’ll be okay,” he said again, stroking her hair. “It’ll be okay, you’ll see.” He pulled her closer, letting his hands drop to her upper back. He stroked her back through the thin shirt. Holly hiccupped. “Shh, it’ll be okay.” His hand slid further down to the curve on her back and stayed there.
Neither one breathed or moved, and after several seconds of utter silence, Holly leaned her head back and parted her lips.
Dillon met her gaze, looked into her deep blue eyes and thought, Oh shit.
Chapter 15
Sifting through the remnants of the galley, Ryan scavenged two cans of Coke, four bottles of airplane bourbon, several packs of peanuts and pretzels. When it became too dark to continue he stuffed the items in his backpack, slung it over his back, and sprinted back to the crash site, water and mud splattering his jeans.
Taking the blankets and pillows Cassie had found, they huddled together in what was left of the section of plane they had been seated in before the crash. A damp swamp breeze whistled through the plane, and the smell of petrol permeated the air.
The scavenged food made for a very meager late dinner, while the bourbon took the edge off their anxiety. They had savored the drinks and snacks, taking an hour to eat.
The taxing events of the day mentally and physically exhausted Ryan and Cassie, and after they ate, both dozed off.
Cassie woke to a cold breeze brushing over her and the sounds of the swamp. Frogs croaked, one at first, others joining in from what seemed like miles around. It was incredibly loud and Cassie shivered.
“Are you awake?” she asked.
“Yes,” Ryan replied.
“Why is it so loud?”
“It’s always loud in the wilderness at night.”
“How do you know?”
“I camp a lot.”
“Where?”
“All over the place. This time last night, I was sleeping under a West Texas sky.”
“Tell me about it,” Cassie said.
“Big Bend National Park is beautiful. It’s a place where you can get away from it all. It’s quiet and peaceful. Food tastes better. The stars are bright, the night air crisp. Last night I stayed awake looking at the sky waiting for a streaking star.”
“Do you ever see any?”
“Quite a few, actually.”
“Did you make a wish when you saw one?”
“Why? Is this truth or dare?” Ryan asked.
“No,” Cassie said. “Trying to make conversation. I’m not used to it being so dark.”
“In that case,” Ryan said, “what do you wish for?”
“I asked first.”
“That you did.” Ryan pondered for a moment before answering. “Winning the lottery.”
“I’m serious,” Cassie said. “What do you wish for?”
Ryan shifted in his seat. “This is making me uncomfortable.”
“Me or the question?” Cassie asked.
Ryan didn’t answer.
“Then I’ll go first,” Cassie said. “I wish for a home and a husband, kids and a dog. And a long happy life.”
“Sounds like the American dream.”
“Maybe so. Your turn now,” Cassie said.
Ryan took a deep breath. “Much like yours. A bunch of kids, four maybe, because with three someone is always the third wheel.”
Cassie laughed at that. “Why not three? Were there three kids in your family?”
“No,” Ryan said. There was a hint of sadness in his voice. “I was an only child. My parents were old when I came along. I always wished I had a brother, and I was envious of guys who did. With a brother, you’ve got a built in lifelong friend.”
“I was an only child too,” Cassie said. “It didn’t matter because me and my mom were best friends.”
“I’ll get you back to your mom,” Ryan said.
“She’s deceased.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Both my parents are gone too.”
Cassie put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. It must be hard on you not to have any family.”
Ryan turned his head and met her caring eyes. She didn’t know the half of it, and he found himself really wanting to tell her more, that he always felt the odd kid out and not quite belonging. His adoptive parents were great, but he always had a longing to know his birth parents. At this moment all he wanted to do was to kiss Cassie and take her in his arms, this girl who was strong. She had survived a plane crash, was level headed, and he admired her for that. As he looked at her, he realized she was more of a young woman, someone he really wanted to know better, to protect her. The more he looked at her, the more he wanted to kiss her. He thought she must have felt it too because she held his gaze. It wouldn’t seem right, not here, not this moment, so he fought the urge and turned away.
Cassie removed her hand and sighed. After a few uncomfortable moments of silence she said, “I really need to pee.” Rising from the seat, Cassie stepped over Ryan and into the aisle.
“Don’t go too far,” Ryan said. “And don’t step out of the plane. It’s too dark and no telling what’s out there.”
“I won’t go very far, only past the front rows. So don’t look.”
Ryan huffed. “I won’t.”
Cassie shuffled her feet, pu
shing away any debris that might trip her up. Keeping her hands on the aisle seat, she counted seven rows.
“That’s far enough,” Ryan called.
Cassie turned so that she was facing Ryan’s direction. Dark or not, she didn’t want to take a chance on mooning him. She fumbled with the button on her pants and unzipped them. Groping around, she found a seat tray to hold onto so she could keep her balance. After she did her business, she breathed a sigh of relief and stood up. The creaking noises the plane unnerved her and she heard that sound again. Something akin to moaning garnered her attention. Telling herself it was only her imagination in overdrive, she took a step but her leg wouldn’t move forward. Jerking it, she thought her pants leg had gotten caught on a piece of metal. When she jerked again something grabbed her leg.
Her immediate action was to kick to wrench her leg away. Fear in her rose and she kicked harder at whatever it was holding onto her leg.
“Ryan! RYAN!”
“What?”
“Help me! Something’s got my leg.”
Ryan catapulted from his seat and bolted to her.
Cassie struggled to free her leg.
“I can’t get it to come loose,” she said. “Do something!”
It was so dark Ryan couldn’t see her tennis shoes, so he gingerly ran his hand down her leg feeling for the object holding her back. Expecting to find metal Ryan jerked his hand back when he touched something warm that moved.
“What is it?” Cassie asked.
“I don’t know,” Ryan said.
“Hurry up because whatever it is I think it’s moving.”
“Shh, quiet. I thought I heard something.” With great trepidation, Ryan followed the contour of Cassie’s leg until he came to the bottom of her pants. His fingers tentatively explored the area, and when his hand found the object holding her leg he immediately knew what it was.
“Help me,” a gravelly voice croaked.
Cassie jumped.
“Help me,” the voice said again.
“Oh my God! Somebody is alive.”
“We’re here and we’re going to help you,” Ryan said. “You need to let go.”
After the shock of finding another passenger alive, Ryan and Cassie took action. Cassie remembered that she had a mini light on her key ring, so she sparingly used the light so Ryan could free the man.
It turned out his name was James Morley, a lawn mower sales executive who was on his way to Atlanta for a convention.
Using a makeshift lever, Ryan lifted a piece of the airplane off of the man while Cassie pulled him free. Much to everyone’s surprise, James stood up. He was wobbly so Ryan told him to sit down while he gave him a cursory examination using the light on Cassie’s key chain. From what he determined, James only had a nasty bump on his head. He had been knocked cold, didn’t remember anything about the crash, and was shocked to hear that most everyone had died.
“You mean we are the only ones that survived?” James was flabbergasted only three people out of all the passengers and crew had lived.
“We’re it, unless we find someone else in the morning. Unless they are uninjured, which I don’t think is possible, there’s nothing we can do for them,” Ryan explained.
“What caused the crash?” James asked.
“Don’t know,” Ryan said. “Probably a catastrophic engine failure or something worse.”
James rubbed his head. “How long has it been since we crashed?”
“Probably about eight hours,” Ryan said.
“That’s long enough for the authorities to launch a search. I’m guessing since the plane was late, there’ll be rescue planes looking for us. The black box has a transponder on it, so they’ll be able to find us. Have you tried calling 911?”
“Our phones aren’t working.”
“Oh,” James said, “I guess there aren’t any cell towers in the middle of the swamp.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Ryan said. “Our phones are dead. They won’t turn on.”
“I’ll try mine,” James said. He patted his back pants pocket feeling for his phone. “Still got mine.” Taking it out, he clicked the home button waiting for it to light up. Nothing happened, so he tried again. Turned it off and on. Still nothing. “That’s odd. Mine isn’t working either. Guess we’ll have wait for someone to find us.”
“Yeah, well,” Ryan muttered, “you can stay here if you want to, but we plan to save ourselves. Right, Cassie?”
“Right,” she responded.
“What are you talking about?” James asked.
“We are going to walk out of here,” Ryan said.
“Are you crazy?” James asked. “You can’t just walk out of here.”
“We can, and we will,” Ryan said. “We leave first thing in the morning. You can come with us or take your chances here. The decision is yours.”
Chapter 16
Dillon figured it was about 1 a.m. Holly had fallen fast asleep after their unexpected romp in the hay, and was now snoring lightly. Dillon had been awake the whole time thinking What the hell have I done? He was so wired up he couldn’t even keep his eyes closed. If he had a time machine like Marty McFly had in Back to the Future, Dillon would have used it and when she had looked at him with those puppy dog eyes, he would have told her to take a cold shower. Jesus! What was he thinking? Bedding his colleague?
There was no undoing what they had done, and since he couldn’t sleep he decided to get up and pack.
He headed to the hall closet, taking out the suitcases and sundry other belongings until he uncovered his bugout bag. He heaved it out and took it to the living room. Placing it on the floor, he unzipped it and took out all the contents. He had purchased the items over several years, discarding some and buying others depending on sales and what he thought he might need.
Studying it, he decided it needed to lighten the load. He tossed the radio, crowbar, and bolt cutter first. A couple of things he could wear on his backpack, such as the Nalgene water bottle, so he kept that. Extra ammo and a knife could go on his belt, while the Camelbak would go in the hidden pocket in the pack. He kept the Lifestraw and water purification tablets, protein bars, matches, first aid kit, flashlights, duct tape, paracord, and contractor trash bags. If he needed shelter in a hurry, he could fashion one out of those items. The bar of soap stayed, as well as a change of clothes.
Buster came over and nosed Dillon’s arm. “Well, boy,” Dillon said. “I’ve got a long trip to go on. Cassie needs me.”
Recognizing Cassie’s name, Buster cocked his head and perked up his ears.
“Thatta boy. We’ll find her.”
Throughout the next couple of hours Dillon packed some canned goods and freeze dried meals in his bugout bag. It wasn’t anything to write home about, but in a pinch—and this certainly qualified as a pinch—he wouldn’t starve.
He checked on Holly several times making sure she was okay, but after what they had just done, it was more than obvious she was okay. And men were supposed to fall asleep after a good…what should he call it? A good…? He couldn’t even say it because it would disrespect a woman of Holly’s caliber. Dillon wasn’t one to slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am, especially a colleague he admired. He guessed Holly would probably give him the cold shoulder in the morning and that was something he was not looking forward to.
Moving around and burning off some of his nervous energy made him feel better, in fact, sleepy so if he was going to get an early start in the morning, he’d better get some shut eye.
The problem with Buster still worried him. The dog had become accustomed to city living in an environmentally controlled environment, otherwise known as central heat and air. Maybe he’d let Holly stay here until he got back, which he figured would be about two weeks.
There, that was it. She’d have Buster as company and the loud bark would scare off any intruders. He also wouldn’t have to worry about any hurt feelings or awkward morning-after greetings, not after what they had shared. Wow! What the fuck was wron
g with him? Bedding the opposing attorney. Now that would definitely be against some ABA ethics rule that could lead to a disbarment, but at the moment, he couldn’t think what it would be.
Dillon went to his bedroom, Buster close behind. He stood at the door wondering if he should get in bed with her and go back to sleep. It was like he was invading her personal space. Yeah right, after they had grinded and practically broken the bed, laughing at it afterwards. Oh what the hell? He slid back into bed next to Holly and pulled the sheet up over his chest.
Buster trotted over to his dog bed, spun around a few times, then pillowed into it. Dillon’s thoughts soon took him to the logistics of getting out of town: which roads to take, amount of water to bring, so many things to go over, and as he thought about crossing the Atchafalaya Basin, he drifted off to sleep.
When morning came, Dillon woke with a start. It was the coffee that he smelled first. Maybe the electricity had come back on during the night. Maybe he had been all wrong about the EMP. Maybe last night didn’t happen.
He swung his legs off the bed and went to the kitchen to find Holly sitting at the table, sipping coffee.
“Want a cup?” Holly asked, as if nothing had happened.
“Yes,” Dillon replied, running his hands through his morning hair.
Using her uninjured arm, Holly poured him a cup of coffee from a metal pan.
“How did you make this?”
“While you were sleeping I found a bag of charcoal and matches and started a fire in the grill.”
Dillon gave Holly a perplexed look.
“To boil water to make coffee.”
“Oh, for a moment I thought the electricity had come back on.” Dillon took a sip of coffee. “I’m impressed. I didn’t know a city gal knew how to make camp coffee. Putting ground up coffee in the water and then letting the coffee settle to the bottom is something only seasoned campers know about. I didn’t know you liked to camp.”
Holly smiled. “You never asked,” she said, making direct eye contact with Dillon.