Dane's Storm(45)

Getting slowly to my feet, I surveyed the wreckage in front of me. From out here, it was even more jaw-dropping and vomit inducing. Oh God, how had we survived at all? The rear of the plane was completely torn off. From this vantage point, I could see all the jagged, twisted metal that looked as if it’d been peeled back. From what I could see of the side of the plane, it was battered and bent, blood and feathers frozen to the side.

I wanted to look at the front and determine how stable the plane appeared to be wedged between the trees, but it was on an incline, and I feared slipping in my ankle boots.

I needed Dane’s suitcase, because I had to warm him up and get him out of those wet jeans.

Quickly, quickly.

Just this one last trip inside and then I’d tend to Dane.

I kicked at the back of the plane with all my weight and though it groaned slightly, it didn’t budge. “Good enough.” If the plane started sliding while I was in it, I could always take a leaping jump out the back now that Dane was safely outside.

I climbed back over the jagged ledge, crawling inside once again and first dragging my own suitcase to the edge and then going back for Dane’s, finally spotting his black, leather duffle under a piece of debris near where the damage to the back began. It was stuck on something, but I finally managed to free it, pulling it to where my own suitcase waited.

I stood up, taking a second to glance around the plane before making a quick decision to crawl slowly to the service bar. I carefully opened the cabinet with broken glass still sticking out of the inside frame and gathered the small bottles of liquor, the three waters, and handful of snacks. If a rescue crew didn’t make it to us until tomorrow, we’d need water at the very least. Opening the cabinet below it, there was a roll of garbage bags and nothing else. I took those, too, holding all the items haphazardly under my arms.

As I crouch-walked toward the exit, I spotted the cushion-covered bin behind the seat on the left of the plane and placed my items on the floor, opening it. Yes! Inside was a short stack of blankets and two small pillows. I tossed them toward the suitcases and then re-gathered the drinks and snacks.

I glanced around one final time to determine if there was anything else that might be helpful, but if there was, I didn’t know where to find it. The fire had smoldered out in the cockpit, but the entire area appeared to be a blackened, melted shell.

How did this happen? How in the world did we end up here? It felt surreal, like a terrible, horrible nightmare, and yet I knew very well it wasn’t. The chill permeating my bones and the horror lodged in my chest left no doubt it was all too real.

I left the plane just as I had before, pulled Dane on the carpet a few feet uphill—my muscles burning—then returned for the bags, pulling them into the snow. I unzipped Dane’s and placed the blankets and pillows inside as the snow seemed to be coming down harder and I didn’t want them to get wet. He had a winter jacket folded inside and I grabbed that and a pair of socks.

I put the socks over his freezing-cold hands and then folded his arms over his chest, laying the waterproof jacket over his upper body and tucking it around him. Hopefully, using one of the blankets under his head would prevent further injury. That would have to do for now. The way he was so deathly still, the way he gave no reaction as I maneuvered him, made me want to sob with fear. Even with the whack to the head, was it normal for someone to be unconscious for so long? It couldn’t be, could it? Was there irreparable damage? Misery and fear rose inside me, threatening to burst forth. Suck it back, suck it back. You don’t have time for that now.

Do what you need to do. Just do what you need to do.

I collected the drinks and snacks on the edge of the plane and put those in my suitcase, removing my jacket. God, I was freezing.

My breath came out in small bursts of white vapor as I looked for anything that might work as a temporary shelter where I could tend to Dane’s wound and get us both warmed up. I needed to get him out of the snow, but we needed to stay close to the wreckage so the rescuers could find us when they spotted the plane.

A huge cliff rose vertically to the left. Behind us—where the plane lay—and to the right, were steep drop-offs. But there was a grove of pine trees and what looked to be larger boulders about a hundred feet up a hill in front of us, that leveled out to solid ground. That looked to be as good a place as any—at least from where I was standing. Would I be able to drag him up the hill? It looked so far and I was half dead with fatigue already.

I hiccupped a quiet sob. I had no idea how I was going to manage all that I needed to do. And I was alone. Terrified and alone.





CHAPTER TWENTY


Dane



Oh Jesus, someone had put my head in a vise. I moaned, but the small reverberation of sound caused a stab of pain, so I forced myself to remain quiet. It was dark, pitch black, and I was cold, so damn cold. But there was some sort of warmth in front of me and I pressed myself toward it, seeking any form of heat, comfort in whatever hell I had somehow ended up in. Something soft tickled my face and I inhaled a slow, careful breath, smelling Audra, her hair, the scent of her. I was dreaming, but I hurt. I couldn’t make any sense of it. Where am I?

I floated in the strange sea of cold pain, images and memories drifting aimlessly through my disconnected brain: Audra in the snow, her eyes filled with love as I entered her body, the way she’d looked on our wedding day, so beautiful and so damned young, and then her shattered expression as she’d sat in a hospital bed, a small, cold bundle in her arms. My chest caught on the vision, and I came closer to the surface of whatever dark sea I was under. Closer, closer . . . the smell of pine and dirt mixing with the smell of Audra, the woman I’d know in any darkness—no matter how deep, no matter how thick and fathomless.