Ice

by Lyn Gardner

  Pausing for a moment, Maggie asked, “I understand, but if you’re saying that we can’t make it—”

  “Honey, if I didn’t think we could make it, we wouldn’t be sitting in this plane,” he interrupted. “I just need you to know that it’s going to be rough. Okay?”

  “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  Studying the ill woman for a few more seconds, he finally glanced at Alex and nodded his head. Turning back around, he started the engine of the Cessna.

  “Buckle up,” he said loudly, trying to be heard over the roar of the propeller. “And there are some barf bags on the back of the seats. Trust me, you’re going to need them.”

  ***

  George Busby had always considered himself a good pilot. Having flown for over thirty years, he had experienced blizzards, monsoons and sandstorms. He had flown without the help of radar and radio, and on one moonlit summer night, he had brought his plane down on its belly when the landing gear had failed. He had survived it all with nary a scratch, but as he reached over and tried the radio again, he began to believe that his luck had finally run out. Not long after takeoff, the radio had gone silent, and now, two hours later, it was all he could do to keep control of the Cessna in the ever-increasing wind. Although not yet enveloped by the winter tempest which was closing in on them from all sides, the little plane had been pummeled by opposing wind currents throughout the flight.

  Between rolling side-to-side, and feeling as if they were driving down a rutted dirt road, the small craft had bounced, dipped and tilted more than a dozen times. And while Alex had not yet needed to use an airbag, twice she had winced as she heard Maggie heave into the plastic-lined paper sack. Worried that she hadn’t seen Maggie move in over twenty minutes, Alex reached over and placed her hand on the woman’s forehead, and instantly, Maggie jerked away.

  “Relax, I’m just checking,” Alex said, checking her temperature. “Christ, you’re hot.”

  Welcoming the feel of Blake’s cold hand on her head, Maggie said, “I know.”

  “Have you taken anything?”

  “No, I’m out.”

  Reaching into her jacket pocket, Alex opened the stolen bottle of painkillers. Quickly putting two in her hand, she handed them to Maggie. “Here, take these.”

  “Where did you—”

  “Don’t ask,” Alex said with a guilty grin. Opening her backpack, she pulled out a bottle of water and placed it in Maggie’s lap. “You’ll need this.”

  “I can’t. It’s yours,” Maggie said, trying to give her back the bottle.

  Shaking her head, Alex said, “I’m fine, Campbell. You need it more than I do.”

  Too weak to argue, Maggie quickly swallowed the pills. Taking a few more sips of water to ease the pain in her throat, she slowly capped the bottle. “How long…do you know?”

  Shaking her head, Alex turned to the pilot, and shouting over the hum of the engine, she asked, “Hey, how long before we get there?”

  Turning partially in his seat to answer, when the plane suddenly dropped, Busby’s large, knobby hands gripped the yoke as he fought to correct the problem. Like a roller coaster, the Cessna dipped and rose, and then, without warning, the air grew quiet as the engine shut off.

  “Shit!” he muttered as his hands flew across the instruments, trying desperately to restart the engine.

  “Oh, Christ,” Alex blurted, casting a quick look in at the wide-eyed woman sitting to her right.

  “We’ve got a problem,” he said as the plane continued to glide downward. “I can’t get it started…so we might have to land a little sooner than we had planned.”

  “What? Where?” Alex exclaimed.

  “There’s a place not far from here…had a fire a few years back…burned down a lot of trees. It should be large enough.”

  “And if it’s not?” Alex yelled back.

  “Honey, we don’t have a choice.”

  Returning his attention to the matter at hand, Busby quickly began to make the plane ready for an emergency landing. Shutting off the fuel to reduce the risk of a fire, he adjusted the flaps to slow their speed, and banking slightly, he headed the Cessna into the wind to slow it down even more. Fighting against the currents jostling the plane, he gripped the yoke with determination.

  Within seconds after Busby’s announcement, Maggie bowed her head and began to pray. Alex saw her make the sign of the cross, and even though she could see that Maggie’s lips were moving, Alex didn’t strain to listen. She knew that the words Maggie was whispering were only meant for God’s ears.

  Alex also said a quick prayer, but she was smart enough to know that they needed more than just prayers. They needed a shitload of luck. If they survived the landing, they would still have to contend with the cold and the blackness of night, so she began to study the inside of the cabin as if it were a crime scene. As fast as she could, she committed everything she could see to memory, assuming once the plane landed the minimal interior lightning would go out and leave them fumbling in the dark.

  “We’ve only got a few minutes, so listen closely. Okay?” Busby yelled.

  Startled from her thoughts, Alex looked toward the cockpit. “Yeah, go ahead.”

  “I’ve got to keep the landing gear up…it’s safer that way…but they’ve already had three or four good snowfalls up here this year, so we’ve probably got a base of two or three feet, which should help soften our landing.”

  “Okay.”

  “Just north of where we’re going to land are cabins…fishing cabins. They’ll be empty at this time of the year, but they’ll protect us from the storm.”

  “North, you say?” Alex asked.

  “Here,” he answered as he pulled a large silver watch from his wrist. “You hold onto this until we land. It’s got a compass.”

  He looked over his shoulder as he handed Alex the watch and their eyes met. She could see his terror, and he could see her guilt.

  Taking it from his hand, she said, “Look, I’m sorry for insisting—”

  “No need to apologize,” he said, turning back around as he continued to struggle with the yoke. “If I didn’t think we could make it, we would never have left the airstrip.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, honey. When we get out of this, you owe me a beer.”

  “I’ll buy you a whole bloody crate,” Alex replied, slipping the watch on her wrist. Glancing over at Maggie, Alex suddenly realized that the woman hadn’t spoken a word since the engine had failed.

  Reaching over, she pushed Maggie back into her seat and tugged at the seat belt to make sure it was fastened. Taking the bottle of water from its resting spot in Maggie’s lap, Alex said with a weak smile, “I’ll give it back once we land. Okay?”

  “I’ve killed us all,” Maggie said in a whisper.

  Giving her hand a squeeze, Alex waited until Maggie’s eyes met hers. “You haven’t killed us. We’re going to be fine. I promise.”

  “I know you don’t like me very much, but I want you to know that I hope you survive. I really do.”

  Confused, Alex said, “What…you’ve got a death wish?”

  Shaking her head, Maggie’s expression turned sad. “You don’t understand. Even if I live through the landing, without a hospital, I’m still dead.”

  In all the commotion, Alex had forgotten the reason why they were on the stalled airplane in the first place, and Maggie’s words hit her in the stomach like a balled fist. Up until that moment, Alex had refused to think about dying. Steadfast in making mental preparations for when they landed, she hadn’t prepared herself for Maggie’s imminent death, and tears appeared in Alex’s eyes. There were no words to be said; no assurances that all would be well and warm and safe because the only thing that Maggie needed to survive, Alex knew she couldn’t give her, and she was gutted.

  Breaking the silence, Busby yelled to brace for landing, and sitting back in her seat, Alex pulled the seatbelt as tight as it would go. Watching as the plane broke through the clouds, she
held her breath, and as the altimeter wound down toward zero, Alex gathered her thoughts. There was no time for regrets or prayers. She was going to live. She refused to accept anything else.

  Feverish and weak, Maggie was transfixed by the large snowflakes now bouncing off the windshield. In her mind, she saw them as white puffs of cotton, cloaking the world and all its hardness in a cocoon of cushiony softness, and she breathed easy. There was no need to worry anymore. No need to be afraid of something so soft and so pure. They were the fabric of His robe, and He would protect her. He would take her into his arms and carry her to the heavens where she would be forever safe. Maggie closed her eyes and said good-bye to the world.

  The storms had begun to battle, and as they fought for position, the clouds shifted and streams of moonlight split the darkness. It only took George a few moments to get his bearings, and peering through the windshield, he searched the countryside for the burned-out section of forest. Spotting a large patch of whiteness against the dark, he managed to bank the plane slightly north and let out a sigh of relief. They were going to make it.

  The quiet of their glide was suddenly interrupted by something scratching against the skin of the plane. A small screech, followed by a scrape, and then a ding, followed by a bang, and an eerie melody of impending doom began to fill the cabin. The women stiffened immediately, but Busby did not.

  With over thirty years of flying under his belt, he knew the procedures, and he had followed every one of them. He had shut off the fuel, slowed the plane as much as he could, and he kept the landing gear raised so that it wouldn’t snag against a branch or boulder and send them somersaulting to their deaths. The scratching sound was simply tree tops rubbing the underbelly of the plane as he flew over the pines, but when he cleared the last and saw the stumps of trees scattered across his landing path, he swallowed hard. His eyes darted right and left, and seeing a section void of tree trunks, he steered toward it. For a moment, he smiled, but then something dark and imposing filled the windscreen and under his breath, he muttered, “Shit.”

  With a loud crash, the branch smashed into the windscreen, shattering the glass and sending it flying into the night. Snow and harsh winter wind rushed in as Busby fought to correct the plane’s direction, but it was too late. While most of the trees in the clearing had been burned to the ground, those that had lived for hundreds of years had been too thick to turn to ash so easily. As the plane touched down, a tall, charred trunk stood its ground and ripped the right wing from the fuselage as if it had been made of paper, and the impact sent the Cessna spinning across the snow.

  Forced to close her eyes against the sting of the wind, Alex felt as if she was on a carnival ride that had spun wildly out of control. Tossed back and forth in her seat like a ragdoll, it was all she could do to keep herself from passing out as the plane continued to screech and spin. It seemed like an eternity to her, but it had taken less than a minute for the plane to travel the length of the clearing, and nose first, it smashed into a stand of trees. The impact drove Alex forward in her seat, and as her head hit the back of Busby’s seat, concussion sent her into darkness.

  Chapter Five

  Running down the hallway, he pushed open the double doors with a bang and every head in the room looked up. Scanning the room until he saw the man he had left in charge, John Harper stormed over and bellowed, “What the hell is going on?”

  “Busby took off.”

  “What? His orders were to stay on the ground!”

  “Yeah, well, apparently he didn’t listen.”

  “Where are they?”

  “That’s why I called you,” the man said, pointing to a blinking light on his console. “They went down.”

  “Christ,” Harper groaned, seeing the emergency locator transmitter signal flashing on the screen. “Do you know where?”

  “Right smack-dab in the middle of the storm of the century.”

  “Can we get to them? Send a team in on snowmobiles, or even on foot?”

  “No way. All the reports that we’re getting say that the temps are dropping, and when those three storms finally become one, it’s going to be hell.”

  Seeing the expression on Harper’s face, the man touched his sleeve and whispered, “I’m sorry, John, but they’re gone. Even if they survived the crash, there’s no way they can make it through that storm.”

  “But what if—”

  “John, trust me, they’re gone.”

  ***

  Gradually, the darkness dissolved as the bitter temperature brought Alex Blake back to the land of the living. Swallowing several times to rid herself of the metallic taste in her mouth, she ran her tongue over her lip and felt the split at the corner. Licking away the blood, Alex slowly opened her eyes. Adjusting to the lack of light, as well as to the pain now throbbing in her head, she carefully reached up and felt her left temple. Wincing at the stickiness she discovered, she closed her eyes and took a moment to gather her thoughts. In her mind, she could still hear the terrible sounds of the crash, but everything else was just a swirl of images. Unsure of her injuries, Alex took a few deep breaths before she tried to move.

  As if doing slow-motion aerobics, she carefully tilted her head from side to side, and then shrugged her shoulders and lifted her arms. Grateful that she only felt the dull ache from bruised muscles, her confidence grew. Shifting to find the buckle of her seatbelt, her movements were brought to an abrupt halt when a knife-like pain shot through her right thigh.

  “Fuck!” she screamed as bolts of pain ran down her leg. “Fuck!”

  Afraid to move, she sat like a statue until the pain eased. Outside, the snow-covered ground reflected the minimal moonlight which had managed to find its way through the clouds, but inside the plane, it was eerily dark. Unable to see Busby or Campbell, and believing that her screams would have caused a response if they were still alive, Alex’s heart sunk. She was alone.

  Finding the courage to move again, she ran her hand over her right thigh, trying to find the injury that had taken her breath away, and when she did, she hissed at the discovery. Poking through her black denim jeans at mid-thigh was a shard of steel.

  “Shit,” she muttered, carefully running her fingers along the spire. “Shit. Shit. Shit!”

  Feeling her heart begin to race, Alex rested her head against the seat and forced herself to calm down. Panic was the last thing she needed to do. Allowing her mind to return to the minutes before the crash, images of the contents of the airplane filled her brain, and the slightest of grins appeared on her face. Gingerly leaning forward to reach the back of the pilot’s seat, she ran her hand along the edge until she found the long flashlight clamped to the side. Pulling it free, she pushed the soft rubber button and blinked at the brightness as the LED light came to life.

  Preparing for the worst, Alex shined the light downward and grimaced at the twisted piece of metal covered in blood she saw protruding from her thigh. Debating on how she was going to hold onto the sharp, slippery steel, she reached into her pocket for her leather gloves. It was only the slightest of movements, so when another lightning bolt of pain shot through her leg, Alex was stunned. Crying out, her voice echoed in the cabin as she fought back tears.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  Taking several deep breaths to prevent herself from passing out, Alex swallowed the saliva building in her mouth and tentatively reached under her thigh. She prayed that she would be wrong, but when her fingers traced the fragment of steel protruding from the seat cushion before it entered her leg, Alex swallowed hard. She was impaled.

  “Oh, fuck me,” she muttered.

  Mentally weighing her options, and knowing that there was only one, Alex decided to face one demon at a time. The first was finding out if anyone else was alive. The second would be freeing herself from the shrapnel piercing her leg.

  Taking a deep breath, she aimed the flashlight at the cockpit, hoping that George Busby had survived, but he hadn’t. Lying across the center console with his neck at a
deadly angle, he stared back at her with empty eyes. Paling at the sight, Alex swallowed hard and then reluctantly shined the light in Maggie’s direction.

  Still buckled in her seat, Maggie was hunched over, and with her face completely hidden behind her hair, Alex had no idea if the woman was alive or dead. Careful not to move her leg, she reached over and pressed her fingers against Maggie’s neck. When she felt the thumping of a pulse, a fresh dose of adrenaline burst through Alex’s veins. Knowing that she needed to free herself before she could tend to Maggie, she flashed the light around the cabin. Seeing the shopping bag lodged between the seats, Alex searched until she found the paisley scarf, and placing it within reach, she removed her belt. Folding the leather strap several times before placing it in her mouth, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed herself off the seat.

  The belt muffled her screams, but nothing could stop the tears from rolling down her face as spasms of pain radiated up and down her leg. Whimpering in the icy solitude of the cramped cabin, it took several minutes before Alex was calm enough to shine the light toward her seat. Using the end of the flashlight, she bent the bloody spike protruding from the seat to the floor, and wrapping the scarf around her thigh to stop the flow of blood, she pulled it tight.

  Settling back into her seat, she was about to wake up Maggie when she felt the plane shift ever so slightly. Hearing the groan of the fuselage as it rubbed against something outside, Alex frowned. She knew they had landed. She remembered the hard thump as the belly of the plane touched down and the whirling spin as it skidded across the field…or was a field? Realizing that they could have easily exited the forest and ended up on the side of a mountain, or precariously perched at the edge of a cliff, her heart began to pound.