Dane's Storm(43)
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.