Dane's Storm

But I stepped forward anyway, touching his hair and whispering his name again. There was no reaction and I froze with another burst of dread when I looked out the small piece of front windshield that still offered a view of what was in front of us. We were positioned on a downward slope at the edge of a cliff that dropped off sharply, too far down for me to see. What had once been the nose of the plane seemed to be snagged between two trees, but even as I stood there, one of the trees made a loud snapping sound and the plane shifted again, coming to a shuddery rest. Oh, dear God. Oh, dear God. I swallowed, my heart beating out of my chest, my breath trapped in my lungs as I stood frozen with my hand on Dane’s hair, his blood dripping onto the floor in small plinks of sound. For several moments, it was the only sound on earth, the only sound in the entire universe. I forced myself to swallow my fear, to move, even though in some respects, I wanted to stay frozen forever. Just to give up and die right there. Or to be a coward and dive out of the opening at the back of the plane so I didn’t have to experience another moment of dropping into the unknown. I couldn’t do it twice.

No. I wouldn’t leave Dane here alone. If he died, I would too. If either of us were getting out of here, it was up to me.

I placed my trembling fingers on his neck and though he was as cold as I was, I felt the low thrum of life under his skin. I let out another small sob of relief, just as a different wire sparked on what had been the dashboard. The spark, combined with the knowledge that Dane was alive, gave me the courage to take the final step to him so I could crouch down and lean around him. He was out cold, but his face looked peaceful as if he were only taking a brief nap. “Not a good time, Dane. I sorta need you to help me out here,” I said. Talking to him—the sound of my own voice—helped me focus on what needed to be done. I wouldn’t look out the window. I would focus on getting Dane out of here.

I’d let myself break down later.

“Please, little trees,” I murmured, “hold us steady, okay?”

Then I sucked in my fear as best as I could. Put it away, Audra. Put it all away. I leaned around Dane just a bit more and grimaced when I saw where the blood was coming from. There was a jagged-looking piece of metal sticking in the side of his left thigh, blood soaking his blue jeans, so they looked black. “We’re going to have to deal with that later, all right? The first order of business is getting us off this plane.” I was able to pull the seatbelt buckle and it clicked open, releasing the strap around him easily. Thank God.

Stepping backward and coming to a bent position again, I wedged my arms behind Dane and pulled him to the side and backward with all my might. He moved enough that I was able to turn him sideways and lower his butt to the floor between the doorway, but his legs were still under the tangled mess of dashboard. He was a big man, I was a small woman, and at the moment, he was dead weight. Despite the frigid weather and my chattering teeth, I broke out in a light sweat as I pulled him again, grunting and gasping with the effort it took to pull him out of the pilot’s seat. Despite my efforts, I only managed to move him about an inch.

There was another small snapping sound outside the plane and I froze, but let out a breath of relief when the plane made no movement forward. Good little trees. Strong little trees, I encouraged irrationally. The wires on the dashboard sizzled yet again and this time, a spark jumped, one of

the wires catching fire and spreading to an already warped piece of plastic.

Oh no. Oh God. Please, dear God, not fire. Not fire. But despite my prayer, the fire grew, spreading along the dashboard where another wire sparked and caused the fire to grow. I pulled harder at Dane, moving him another inch. There was no moving cautiously now. The fire was growing, spreading, and if I didn’t get him out of there, it would jump to his clothes and . . . oh God, oh God, oh God. With all my strength, I heaved him backward, the floor under his butt helping as he slid along it, his legs coming out from under the destroyed dash and falling into the open space in front of us. “Okay, okay, that’s good,” I huffed, pulling him back again. He moaned slightly, his head lolling to the side. The pain of his injured leg being jostled must have penetrated even his unconscious state.

With a small cry, I fell backward, tripping over something in the path behind me, Dane’s head landing in my lap. Hot tears of frustration and mind-numbing fear slid down my cheeks as I panted with exertion, my arms burning, and the pain in my chest increasing with every movement. For a single moment, I allowed myself to sit and cry, looking into Dane’s peaceful face. “I need you, I need you,” I cried, but I knew he couldn’t help me, and I knew it wasn’t his fault. Even so, the feeling of being deserted was a hollow pit of crushing despair in my stomach. There’s no time for this, Audra. Get it together.

The heat from the spreading fire snapped me from my mini breakdown, and with a swipe at my face, I laid Dane down as gently as possible and turned around to clear a path out of the plane. I moved carefully, but as quickly as I could, moving things out of the way so I could drag him through. Picking him up was impossible. As I moved a piece of debris aside, I saw my cell phone on the floor, so I snatched it. My hands were shaking. Where had I last had it? Had it been in my hand when Dane told me to get to the back of the plane? I couldn’t remember. I pushed the power button and it came to life, hesitating for a count of five, but there was no signal. Of course. We were on a mountaintop in the middle of nowhere. I shoved it in my pocket and moved toward Dane.

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