by Amy Lane
Tevyn bit his lip, but he couldn’t control the smile that wanted to escape.
“Wouldn’t be dying slow,” he said.
“Would be a helluva ride.”
They both nodded, and without another word, turned toward a pile of fallen branches beyond the airplane wing. Their snowshoes were about disintegrated, only the most basic framework of branches remaining to keep them from sinking to their asses in snow.
“We have to ask Damien first,” Tevyn warned.
“Please. He’ll be pissed he didn’t think of it.”
And he was.
He was also, it turned out, really very excited about the little foil-wrapped packages of peanuts that Mal produced from a compartment in the cockpit. And even more excited about the pretzels behind them.
THAT night as Damien slept, Tevyn curled up in front of Mallory on the floor of the cargo area. The fire danced on the floor near the broken section of tail. The door was frozen open, but their tattered fire blanket made a decent wall for what they hoped was the final time.
For a moment, they were quiet, the conversation exhausted out of them, and then Tevyn rolled in Mallory’s arms, coming face-to-face with him.
“What?” Mallory asked, voice so low Damien probably couldn’t have heard him if he was awake.
“I just… just wanted to say something,” Tevyn whispered. “Important. Because you and me, we’ve been dancing around each other for five years. And now, when we might not have any time at all, we’ve stopped dancing around each other and started dancing with each other. And I want you to know, if this was what it took for us to find this thing we’ve got?” He put his hand on Mallory’s heart. “It was worth it. My whole life I might not have known this was real. And even if my life’s cut short, knowing it was real? That’s what makes it worth living.”
Mallory made a suspicious noise, and the light from the fire was enough to reveal the silver tracks down the side of his nose.
“What?” he asked, worried.
“I was just going to say I love you.”
Tevyn laughed. “That’s plenty.” And then he kissed him, hard enough to make Mallory open his mouth and groan, and Tevyn kept kissing until they were both liquid and aching and needy.
“Why?” Mallory muttered, burying his face against Tevyn’s neck and arching his hips. “Why would you do that here?”
“’Cause that was a really fancy speech I gave,” Tevyn told him, making sure his lips brushed Mallory’s ear. “But I want to live. I want to live so we can do that clean and naked until we literally can’t move anymore.” He thrust his hand between them and squeezed Mallory through his sweats and his suit pants and briefs, and Mallory groaned.
“You suck.”
“Oh yeah. I really do. I’m great at it. And we’re gonna live to find out.”
Mallory’s tortured laughter was music to his ears.
THEY took shifts and let Damien sleep. When Tevyn awakened from his own slumber, he found that Mallory had taken his bowie knife and liberated all of the seat belts from the passenger compartment, including the ones from the child’s jump seats on the side. As Tevyn woke up—part of an operations manual burning with the branches they’d found, the better to make the flames bright—the first thing he saw was Mallory, working hard with the bowie knife and some of the T-shirt rope, stitching the ends together tightly.
“Good idea,” Tevyn mumbled, not quite ready to wake up.
“Go back to sleep,” Mallory told him gently. “I’m not ready to let go of this project yet.”
Tevyn did just that. Mallory woke him maybe an hour before dawn, the fire freshly stoked and burning warmly.
“Sun’ll be up in a few,” he mumbled, sliding under Tevyn’s parka, which they’d been using as a blanket.
“Sleep in,” Tevyn told him. “We leave after breakfast.”
“Peanuts and pretzels—hooray!”
Tevyn kissed his forehead and took his position in front of the fire.
And prayed.
Flying
MALLORY woke up with a start in the full light. “Oh my God. The fire—”
“Is fine,” Damien said, feeding it another crumpled page from another useless manual. “Tevyn was out at first light, and he asked me to let you sleep.”
“How are you?” Mallory asked, grateful Tev wasn’t there because Damien tended to be honest when he wasn’t trying to impress Tevyn.
“My leg’s starting to hurt like a motherfucker,” Damien said. “And I’m getting feverish again.”
“We’ve got one more Vicodin,” Mal said, just as honest. “And we used the last of the ibuprofen yesterday.”
Damien nodded. “Let’s save the pain pill until we strap me to the airplane wing. Any idea how we want to do that?”
Mal shook his head. “Prone?”
Damien winced. “I’ll be helpless!”
“Yeah, but Tev and I will be riding it like a sled. You can’t do that, not with your leg like it is. Keeping it immobile might be the only thing that’s kept you alive!”
Damien grunted. “You know, six years in the Navy, I didn’t get shot down once, didn’t get wounded, didn’t even get shot at. Here I am, on the biggest actual adventure of my life, and I’m strapped to the back of an airplane wing and hoping I don’t get my skull crushed?”
Mallory sighed and looked around the plane again, noting the foam rubber padding coming loose from the seats.
“Actually,” he said, “I’ve got an idea.”
By the time Tevyn came back in, exultant and happy, a very unhappy Damien was sporting some very awkward headgear.
“Seriously?” he snapped. “It smells like pee! And you anchored it to my head using the waistband of Tevyn’s jock!”
“And it’s brilliant!” Tevyn crowed, excited. “Do I get one?”
“We all do.”
Helmets. Not pretty—and yeah, the smell was something extra special—but Mallory’s big fear about being strapped to the back of an airplane wing and flying down the hill was head injury.
This wasn’t perfect, but it just might do.
“All right, guys,” Tevyn said as he put his helmet on and ripped the last of the elastic from the jock to anchor it the same way Mallory had for Damien. “Let’s go set the hill on fire.”
DAMIEN was strapped to the back of the wing, feet first, head pillowed not only on the helmet, but on Mal’s suit jacket as well. The seat belts had done the trick, but they’d used up a lot of rope making sure his head and neck were stabilized, and then they’d wrapped the bedraggled trench coat over him to keep him warm.
Mallory sat in front of him, legs spread to accommodate Tevyn. Tevyn belted them both together to the wing. He held a piece of wing strut in each hand, and Mal held the broken halves of the handle they’d used in the trench coat as the travois, so they could steer.
They’d set up near the airplane so they could practice shoving the thing through the snow like a gondola, and Mallory had to admit, even going sideways, it was a little easier than hauling a travois. But it wasn’t until they cleared the tree line and turned the thing downhill that Mallory really appreciated the speed.
“One! Two! Three!” With a heave they started the thing downhill, and for a moment, Mallory held his handles aloft, waiting to see if he’d need to stop or push some more.
And then gravity took over.
Whoosh!
Just like a sled, they started speeding down the hill—but not straight. “Lean right!” Tevyn shouted as they made up for the unbalanced bottom of the wing.
Mal did, engaging his core and his obliques to compensate for the angle of the slide, and they continued to rocket down the hill. The wind whistled outside their makeshift helmets, and Tevyn yelled, “Put the sticks in your lap, Mal, and hang on!”
Mal did what he said, wrapping his arms around Tevyn and listening to his body. They saw a rock coming up, jutting out of the snow like a quick approaching nightmare, so Tevyn screamed, “Right!”
&
nbsp; They leaned farther to the right, and their sled swerved, and Tevyn screamed, “Up!” and now they were going straight down again.
Left! Right! Straight! Down, down, down, so damned fast. Mallory’s heart pounded in his throat and his blood thundered in his ears. He held tight to Tevyn Moore, who was the one thing in his life worth holding, and together they hurtled down the mountain, shouting in exhilaration.
“Oh shit!” Tevyn yelled. “Shit! We can’t stop in time!”
Ahead of them was a great gap of maybe thirty feet, a divot in the mountain, and Mallory’s heart froze.
“Head down!” Tevyn yelled. “We’re going over!”
Mallory closed his eyes, the world dropping out from under them as they sailed through the air. He opened them when he felt the jarring of impact.
“Damien!” he hollered.
“Still here!”
And the sled hurtled on.
The terrain leveled out, still snowy but flat, and right when Mallory thought, Hey, did we really get to the end of the mountain? he saw the muddy service road, and he and Tevyn leaned hard to their right.
Their sled skidded to a halt, the bottom grinding on gravel as the snow disappeared, and they tumbled into the slush by the side of the road just as a Forest Service truck passed in front of them.
A Forest Service truck?
“Oh my God!” Tevyn laughed. “Oh my God! Damien! Damien, you okay?”
“Ouch,” Damien mumbled. “Ouch. Shit. Crap. My head. My neck. My leg. That was awesome. I’m dead.”
Mallory and Tevyn scrambled off the wing to help Damien out of the snow, only vaguely aware of the knot of people approaching.
And the dogs.
One of them, a giant pit bull crossed with something else, gave a distinctive bay. “Preacher?” Damien mumbled, and the dog broke loose from his handler and came to get in everybody’s way and make sure Damien was okay. “Preacher?” he said again. “Where’s Preston, buddy? Where’d he go—”
“Damien?”
Mallory and Tevyn looked up to see a gorgeous, blond, turquoise-eyed Adonis barreling through the rescue workers and drawing near. “Damien?” he asked, voice rusty, and Mallory managed to take the makeshift helmet off Damien’s head before Preston got there.
“Thanks,” Damien whispered.
“Got your back,” Mallory whispered in return. “Preston!” he called. “Preston, he’s fine!”
And then the rescue workers converged on them, shocked and excited that the missing passengers and pilot they’d been searching for had just blundered into their midst.
Mallory tore off his own helmet, and Tevyn his, and they had to be separated before the search and rescue people could take their vitals and hear their story and feed them hot soup and vitamin water.
They didn’t let go of each other’s hands unless they absolutely needed to.
Nobody even bothered to try to make them.
IN a remarkably brief time, they were seated in a passenger helicopter, wrapped in wool blankets, and nursing—oh God—more hot protein broth while Preston and a pretty blonde EMT named Jeri tended to Damien. Preston and Jeri spoke in brief, clipped medical shorthand, and every so often, Preston Echo would send Mallory and Tevyn covert glances with big turquoise eyes.
Preston’s brother, Glen Echo, was piloting the copter and grilling Mal and Tevyn over the headsets.
“Bet you’re glad you sprang for the luxury emergency suite, right?” Glen asked, and Mallory grinned tiredly. It was, in fact, a repurposed and refurbished Army surplus Black Hawk passenger transport. Glen had painted the entire thing eggshell white and put a very spiffy turquoise-and-red logo on the side of the tail—Gecko Emergency Services—and yes, the inside was comfortable, leather upholstered, and genuinely welcoming.
“Money well invested,” he said. “Where are we going?”
“UC Davis Medical Center,” Glen told him. “I know there are hospitals between here and there, but Jeri says the break is pretty bad and he’s going to need surgery and super-strength antibiotics ASAP. He’s stable enough to get him to a specialist, so that’s what we’re gonna do.”
Mallory knew Glen and Damien had served together, and he heard the stout defense of a brother in Glen’s voice.
“He was so strong,” Mallory said, making sure Preston could hear him. “We dragged Damie all over the damned mountain, and he didn’t so much as whimper about the pain.”
“That there’s a lie,” Glen said dryly. “He’s a snarky bastard, and I’m sure he let you have it.”
“Well, yeah—but self-pity is not on his plate.”
“No, it is not,” Glen agreed. “And thank you. More specifically, thank you for dragging his sorry ass down the hill. Why did you do that, by the way?”
“You don’t leave a friend behind!” Mallory protested indignantly.
Glen’s voice softened. “I know you wouldn’t, Mal. And now I know that about Tevyn. I meant why did you decide to come down the hill? Common wisdom says stay put.”
“Our phones went over with the helicopter,” Mallory responded. “Nobody knew where we were. We found shelter, waited out the storm, and started down. But we weren’t going fast enough, and….” He couldn’t say it. Not now, when Damien was warm and being tended to and answering the two EMTs with snark and succinct suggestions.
“He wasn’t going to make it,” Glen deduced. “You got on the back of that airplane wing because Damien couldn’t wait.”
“Well,” Mallory said, catching Tevyn’s eye. “In fairness, neither could Tev. You guys know me. I’m the king of hanging out and waiting for my chance. But Tevyn was going to gnaw his own leg off if we tried to keep him still.”
Tevyn raised a shoulder and then leaned his head against Mal. He was on coms too—but much like after he’d run a competition, he needed an hour or two to decompress.
“Either way, I appreciate it. You brought our friend down the mountain—that’s huge. And the fact is, even if we’d known you were up there, we couldn’t have gone to get you.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You guys were probably too close to see, but the entire top of that mountain is an avalanche waiting to happen after that last storm. Me and Preston had to throw a full-sized tantrum to get the local agencies to even spend time in that area. But we saw the empty copter and knew you three must have walked away somehow. It makes a lot more sense that Damien landed on that mountaintop and the copter slid off.” He shuddered. “What was left when it hit bottom wasn’t pretty.”
“We’re so glad you were there,” Mallory said numbly. Lucky. They were so lucky. His arm tightened around Tevyn’s shoulders. You couldn’t rely on luck to have people you loved in your lives. From here on out, he and Tevyn were going to have to make their own luck.
“So I let Damien’s parents know he’s been found and is on the way to surgery. Is there anybody you want to call? Jeri’s got a cell phone for you, if you know the number.”
Jeri grimaced on hearing that and rather than taking off her sterile gloves, where she was doing important work, presented her backside instead, where her phone showed in a clear outline.
“Thanks,” Mallory said. “That’s, uh, kind.” He laughed, but he took the phone and called Charlie, knowing the number by heart.
“Please tell me this strange number is Mallory. Mallory? That better be frickin’ you.”
“It’s like you’re psychic,” he said weakly. “Did our company go under without me?”
“No, but you got a stunning number of people saying, ‘Charlie, we trust you with our money, but how is our financial officer?’ It’s scary. You got cards, Mallory. Cards!”
Mal chuckled. “Maybe don’t read them. Some of them probably say ‘We needed you to sell stock when you were gone, damn you, and now it’s dropped!’”
“No.” Her voice grew thick. “Just no. I had to call Glen to even talk to the sheriff’s department. I’ve been worried sick—don’t do that to me, dammit! Without you, Mal,
I have no excuse to avoid my mother twice a month. You’re the only person on the planet keeping me from jumping out a window!”
Her mother was very nice but very overbearing. Mallory got it. “Love you lots too,” he said fondly. “It’s good to know I’d be missed.”
“God, you had to go and make it real. I love you too. Now what can I do for you? There’s got to be something I can do.”
Tevyn was so relaxed against him. “They’re going to want to check us out at the hospital, maybe keep us overnight and give us fluids.” He would almost rather an IV than any more protein broth. “After that, we’re going to need a hotel near the hospital for at least one night—”
“Why for?”
He could picture her, boy-cut short dark hair tucked behind her ears, big gray eyes shrewd, full lips pursed. She liked to wear slim-skirted power suits in outrageous colors with black or white shells as a foil underneath. She was stunning—not being able to make it work with her had pretty much cemented Mallory’s gayness as incontrovertible fact.
“So we can see how Damien is.”
“He’s not okay?” Her voice squeaked. Everybody loved Damien.
“He was hurt in the initial crash. He’s going to need surgery and antibiotics and probably more of the above. But Tev and I are going to want to see how he’s doing, and then we’re going to need to fly to Colorado.”
“So three hotel rooms,” she mumbled.
“Three?”
“I’m coming!” she snapped. “At least until you go see how his grandma is.” He’d told her why he’d gone up to Donner Pass in the first place—it was hard to remember. “What are you going to wear, Mal, scrubs? I’ll go to your apartment and get you some jeans or something—”
“Buy some clothes for Tevyn—men’s medium, twenty-eight-inch waist—”
“Twenty-six,” Tevyn said softly, winking, letting him know he was still listening.
“Enough for a couple of days. Grab my suitcase from the closet. And we only need two hotel rooms. And one by the hospital in Colorado.”
