Chasing Mercury

by Kimberly Cooper Griffin

  Rather than dwell on whether there were other survivors below her who she couldn’t get to, she churned through what she had experienced in the—she looked at her watch—ninety minutes since the airplane had fallen from the sky. She guessed that the plane had hit somewhere above her, then it had touched down on the small wooded shelf she was on, where it had slid for a short distance before finally plummeting into the ravine. A flash of hope filled her. Maybe there were other survivors stranded on the mountainside above her. An image of the woman who had been sitting next to her during the flight filled her mind. If Nora had been thrown clear, maybe her seatmate had been, too. A manic sort of hope rose in her at the thought that others might be safe on the mountain above, and maybe in the ravine below, if they had gotten free of the wreck before the explosions. When rescue came, they’d all be saved. She just had to stay close and wait.

  Nora retraced her steps back toward the small copse of rocks where her seat had landed, her psychological home base. On her way, she found two plastic wrapped airline blankets lying on the thick layers of pine needles coating the forest floor. They were small and flimsy, but if help didn’t come before nightfall, they would keep her warm along with the one she’d been covered with on the chair. Feeling grateful for her find, she came to the crash path and carefully stepped over broken tree trunks and clumps of churned up soil.

  She walked around the newly exposed roots of a tree lying on the ground, trying to grasp the reality of her survival. Something caught her eye. She was so focused on everything that had happened that she almost missed it. A color, golden and unnatural in its surroundings, peeked through a mound of dead pine needles and soil next to the fallen tree. She bent to push the debris away. Shocked, she jerked her hand back when her fingertips swiped across a soft, wet expanse of skin, dark and caked with mud. Nora looked at her fingertips and realized they were covered in blood. She stood and fell backward over a branch in her hasty retreat, dropping the blankets she had been carrying. Her heart beat erratically in her chest.

  A body. She had found a body. And she had touched it.

  Fear and horror inundated her, but what was this reaction? Her first response was to run? She had been trained for this sort of thing. Disgusted with herself, Nora moved closer to the body. She studied the mound before she found the courage to brush aside more leaves and realized she was looking at a woman’s face framed in disheveled blonde hair. Nora brushed away the soil and dead foliage that almost concealed her. One side of the woman’s face was caked with mud, while the other side, once cleared of the loose pine needles, was relatively clean. Maybe she wasn’t dead.

  “Hey! Are you okay?” she shouted, knowing full well the woman was not okay. But what do you say in a situation like this? She brushed aside more of the needles and found an arm. She ran her hand up to grasp the wrist and felt for a pulse. Nothing. She tried the carotid artery in the woman’s throat, and although the skin was warm and pliable, after a moment of trying not to concentrate on her own pulse hammering through her own body, Nora wasn’t able to detect a pulse there, either.

  Initially, she thought the dead woman’s torso—or at least her legs—were pinned under the fallen tree, but as she cleared more of the dirt, Nora found the woman was merely pressed into the juncture between the tree and the ground beneath it. It was just earth and leaves covering her. The dead woman wore a blue button-up blouse, over a white v-neck t-shirt and jeans. Recognition washed over her. It was the woman with green eyes who had been seated in first class, fourth row from the front, next to the aisle. Seat 4B.

  She cleared the pine needles from around the woman and scanned the area, both terrified and hopeful she wouldn’t see other bodies, and, god, please not the baby. She got up. Concern over the woman, beyond her help, lost out over the sudden possibility a child might be out there somewhere, alone, hurt, and terrified. Nora listened for cries and canvassed the area, looking around branches and fallen trees, carefully kicking away mounds of pine needles. In an ever-expanding circle she moved, leaving no area unsearched, until she finally stood at the rim of the ravine, satisfied that the baby, or any other victims, were not there. She looked down at the fire continuing to burn far below her and felt the brutal knowledge of the lost lives sweep through her. Sweating from the effort of her search and the shock of what she had just confronted, Nora wiped away the tears streaming in a silent river down her hot face. She shivered in the cool afternoon air and went back to the woman’s body. She knelt next to her wondering what to do next.

  Aside from a deep gash on her forehead, the woman showed no other outward signs of the injury that had killed her. Leaves and dirt congealed with the wetness covering the side of the woman’s face. Tentatively, trying not to touch any more of the blood, Nora reached out and brushed away some of the hair that fell across the woman’s closed eyes. Her finger swept across a cheek, and Nora was surprised to feel it was still warm. She knew it didn’t take long for a body to grow cold after death, especially outside. She looked at her watch—two hours and five minutes had passed since the crash. Any hope that the woman had died instantly left her.

  Nora stared at the pretty face for a few minutes, taking in the solemn moment. She picked away a pine needle from the woman’s high cheekbone and wiped a smudge from her defined jaw. She looked like she was merely asleep, her full lips slightly parted and her long dark lashes lying against the skin below her closed eyes—eyes that she knew were green and sparkled when she smiled. Nora felt the need to do something—anything—to mark the woman’s passing. With shaking hands, she cleared the rest of the pine needles, sticks, and bits of bark from the body, settled the woman’s limbs in a neat position, and sat down next to her. Taking one of the woman’s hands in her own, she lowered her head, at a loss for thoughts, almost wishing she’d had just a little religious or spiritual experience in her background to help her through a moment like this.

  The hand she held was cold and limp. She didn’t know the woman, but she remembered her in the reflection of the little girl’s smile. Grief swept through her then, and she allowed herself to cry again, this time with gut wrenching sobs and jagged breaths. Really scary things had just happened to her. People had died, but she was still alive, and that was something to be thankful for. A torrent of guilt rose in her. But she couldn’t give up. Not yet. She had to survive. She had to keep living because this woman and so many others had died. Nora gently placed the hand she’d been holding upon the front of the blue blouse. She straightened out the collar and stroked the top of her hand. She noticed she didn’t wear any rings, but the slight indentation and tan line on her left hand indicated a ring had been there recently and for a long time. She thought about the people the woman had left behind, the baby she’d made smile. Sadness swept through her and Nora pulled away.

  The woman’s chest rose as Nora sat back. It was so slight Nora thought she had imagined it, maybe even wished it. She stared to see if it would happen again. Then, a seemingly impossible amount of time later, it did, ever so shallow, barely a rise, but a breath, nonetheless.

  The woman was alive! Maybe barely, but she was breathing, and that was all that mattered. A huge sense of obligation descended upon Nora. She had to take care of her. She was responsible for her survival.

  “Hey! Wake up! Wake up!” She shouted, bending low and close to her face, listening for a breath, checking to make sure nothing blocked the woman’s breathing—something she should have done initially, but she refused to berate herself for it now. She shook her—not enough to injure her more if there was something broken inside, but enough to wake a person if they were asleep.

  Nothing.

  She held the unconscious woman’s hand and a gust of wind lifted the hair from Nora’s brow, a reminder that rain was on the way. Through the narrow opening in the canopy along the path of downed trees, she saw the sky had turned a cold, hard gray. The clouds looked low and foreboding, the kind that clung to the earth not far from the sea, moving in, gathering heaviness as th
ey moved across land. Nora hadn’t seen the ocean, but she could feel it close by. For some reason, it gave her a sense of her bearings, which fueled her hope. The tops of the trees bent restlessly in a strong wind Nora could not yet feel, except for an occasional gust that chilled her skin.

  Nora looked down at the unconscious woman and considered her next steps. With rain almost certain, she couldn’t leave her where she was, but she didn’t know what to do. Was it wise to move her? What about internal injuries? Candidates for shelter were sparse. She had been all over the immediate area and she hadn’t seen any caves or even a hollowed out tree they could use. Then she thought of the wing near the edge of the ravine. She couldn’t see it from where she was because of the slight rise, but she remembered it was propped up against some trees and rocks and there might be some shelter under it if it was stable. She had to go check, but that meant leaving the woman alone for a few minutes. She didn’t want to, but she had no choice.

  Before she left to assess the sheltering possibilities of the wing, she tore the plastic from the two blankets and spread the small wool covers over the woman’s legs and torso.

  “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” she said as she tucked the scratchy fabric around her. She might as well have been talking to herself, but it felt good not to be alone.

  Near the wing, several feet away from the edge of the ravine, the wind was strong, carrying the smell of smoke with it. The hunk of metal was as she remembered it, battered and slightly bent, but still mostly in one piece. A faint smell of jet fuel lingered in the area, but the engine had come off and was lying partially embedded in the soft earth a short distance away. The wing was laying upside down, with the thickest, longest edge resting on the ground, and the high side leaning against a copse of trees. The opening underneath faced away from the nearby ravine, blocking much of the wind. The part of the wing that had been connected to the body of the airplane rested against a short crop of rocks, partially blocking off that side, forming a half sort of A-frame space beneath. She stooped to look under it and saw there was plenty of space beneath.

  Up close, the wing was thicker than she had expected. Many of the flaps were extended and bent as a result of the crash. Nora estimated it was about forty or forty-five feet long, and at the widest, about ten feet across. The height of the space under it went from the ground to about four-and-a-half feet tall at the highest part. Blocked on the two sides, it looked like it would provide a good shelter from the rain and wind.

  Nora pushed and pulled on the heavy metal structure to make sure it wouldn’t shift and crush them, but it didn’t budge. To be sure, she walked around to the other side and climbed on top of it, using one of the metal ridges that went up the bottom of the wing surface for support. She bounced on it first, and then jumped. The heavy thing still didn’t move. Relieved she wouldn’t have to build something from tree branches, Nora jumped down and made her way to the panel she had spotted earlier. She needed a litter to transport the injured woman.

  Nora easily found the panel again. The curtain was barely attached to it, held on by a single rivet, and she pulled it free. She dropped it on top of the panel and dragged it back to where the woman was lying. It was heavier than she had expected, but there was a coat hook on one side that gave her something to grasp, making the task a little easier. She placed the makeshift stretcher next to the woman, who was resting exactly as Nora had left her. Nora waited to see the slight rise of chest that told her she was still breathing. When she saw it, she realized she had half-expected her to be dead when she returned. She shook the morbid thought away and busied herself with the careful transfer of the woman onto the panel. She didn’t want to add to her injuries. The woman was like a limp doll. Nora felt along her limbs for broken bones and didn’t find anything obvious as she positioned her on the flat surface. Aside from a few scrapes, and the gash on the woman’s forehead, she didn’t notice any other injuries. The woman herself gave no sign she felt any discomfort—or anything at all, for that matter.

  A thought occurred to Nora as she centered the woman on the stretcher. “Sorry about this,” she said as she pushed her hand into the woman’s pockets. The first pocket revealed a tube of lip balm, along with a wrapper for a protein bar. The second pocket contained a blister pack of 25 mg tablets of decongestant with three empty spaces. If the woman had taken three at one time, it could explain why she had been asleep on the plane. She pushed the items back into the woman’s pockets before she rolled her slightly to the side to reach into a back pocket. More than ever, Nora wanted to know who this woman was. She found a folded piece of paper that revealed itself to be a ticket sleeve. Inside were a boarding pass and a luggage check slip for one bag. Bingo. The woman’s name was Grace Trackton. Seat 4B. Boarding passes from LAX to Juneau, Alaska, via Anchorage.

  “Grace? Hey, lady from 4B? Can you hear me?” Nora studied the woman for a sign of recognition. She remained unresponsive. Nora refolded the papers and slid them back into the pocket she’d pulled them from. “Well, anyway, hello, Grace Trackton. I’m Nora Kavendash. Do you mind if I call you 4B? I think I like it better.”

  When her patient was placed squarely on the panel, Nora twisted the thin fabric of the curtain into a rope of sorts, slid it under 4B’s upper back, and pulled the ends up and under her armpits to make a sort of harness. She then tied the ends around the coat hook that protruded from the flat panel just above 4B’s head. After draping the blankets over the woman, Nora assessed her work and then took off the flannel shirt she was wearing and tied it around the woman’s torso to secure the blankets and to keep the woman’s arms at her sides so she wouldn’t slide out. It looked awkward, and it didn’t look terribly secure, but it would keep her patient from sliding off the stretcher when she lifted it by one end and started to drag it. The parts of the curtain that ran up to tie to the coat hook served additionally to stabilize her head. Nora was pretty proud of her work.

  Nora hefted the panel under 4B’s head and pulled. It was hard work and she had to take several breaks on the way to move debris from her path and to catch her breath. 4B’s head moved a little from side to side, but other than the jostling from the ride, which Nora tried to minimize, she still hadn’t moved on her own. Finally, they made it to the wing and Nora smoothed an area before she slid the contraption, woman and all, beneath the shelter. She crawled in after and studied 4B as she untied the harness. Checking to see if the woman was still breathing was becoming an obsession for Nora. The woman’s chest rose about four times a minute. Fresh blood seeped out of the gash on 4B’s forehead, probably a result of the bumpy ride. Nora took a closer look at it. It would probably stop again on its own, but it needed stiches—something she wasn’t sure she was willing to try even if she did have the right supplies. The best she could do was clean the wound and put a bandage on it. The good thing was the new flow of blood had washed some of the dirt away, but small bits of soil and leaves still clung to the area around it. She hoped the tiny first aid kit she kept in her backpack would have what she needed to attend to the wound.

  “You’ve got a nasty cut on your forehead, 4B. I’m going to see if I have a bandage big enough to cover it. My backpack is over by the rocks. I’ll be right back.”

  Shaking her head at herself for talking to an unconscious woman, Nora crawled out from beneath the wing. As she stood, a gust of wind rounded the metal slab carrying some of the thick smoke that blew up from the drop-off. The rush of air was stronger than before and buffeted her. Nora shivered. The effort of dragging the woman to the wing had made her sweat, and the rapidly cooling air was starting to get chilly. A drop of rain hit her face. They had made it to the wing just in time. The sky had grown darker, indicating that the storm that was coming might be more than just a light rainfall.

  Nora moved back under the wing and tucked the blankets more securely around 4B to keep her warm against the falling temperature. The individual raindrops became a smattering. She would have to hurry to get her backpack. />
  “Okay. Now I mean it. I’ll be right back,” she said to her unconscious companion. She crawled out from under the wing again and jogged back to the rocks, which were a few hundred feet away. She pulled her pack over her shoulders and was turning back, when she stopped. On a whim, she grabbed the airline seat and started to drag it back with her. It was heavy and awkward, but she didn’t want to leave it behind. By the time she returned to the wing, the rain was sounding a regular patter against the metal surface.

  “I’m back,” said Nora, ducking into the space below the wing, pulling her cargo in after her. She was out of breath and a little damp from her hurried trip through the light rain. She dropped to her knees beside 4B, who hadn’t moved. She was still breathing, though. Nora resituated herself so she was sitting cross-legged, facing the woman, she shrugged out of the backpack, pulling it into her lap. She found the small first aid kit in a side pocket, along with an unopened bottle of water she’d purchased at the last airport. She blew out a small laugh when she thought how Aunt Mace would have reacted when she told her how much she’d paid for it. She then selected a clean t-shirt and set all of it on the panel next to 4B’s limp arm. She closed her pack, placed it aside, and then turned to study the unconscious woman’s wound.

  Aunt Mace would laugh to see her now, playing doctor like she knew what she was doing. The outdoorsy, physical aspect of search and rescue was why she had joined the service, not the medical part. She really didn’t like the blood and guts part of it, but she had done it when needed. Trained to do emergency triage out in the field, she’d set bones, staunched bleeding, and once, even helped deliver a baby. Cleaning this wound was nothing to her. But Aunt Mace knew that, given the choice, she’d rather let someone else deal with the gory parts. There was no one else out here to do it, though.