“Here! Over here!” The soldier waved to them from the rocky incline.
They scrambled up the barren swell, and found themselves on a small plateau. “Look!” the corporal said, pointing back the way they’d come.
Kelly took one look, and gasped loudly. Beside her, Zach’s low curse was oddly appropriate. From here, above the treetops, they could see the wreckage of their plane. Upon impact, the huge 747 had broken apart like a child’s toy. One wing had sheared off. It was lying some distance away, burning. The mangled cockpit had rammed nose-first into the side of a flat-topped mountain. It too, had broken away. The main body of the aircraft, with one wing still attached, was engulfed in fire, burning like a gigantic funeral pyre. Though the storm had passed, clouds still hovered overhead, tainted now by the plumes of black smoke and flame that shot hundreds of feet into the air. Behind the main body, perhaps the length of two football fields away from it, the tail section clung precariously to a steep hillside. From this viewpoint, it appeared the only thing holding it there was the crushed forest of trees beneath it.
As he gazed at the scattered wreckage, Zach realized just how fortunate they’d been. Had they been seated anywhere else on the plane, he and the few people with him would not have survived. If he and Kelly had not given up their seats in the first-class section—if Alita had not chosen that precise time to come back in search of an empty restroom—they, too, would be dead. Call it luck, kismet, fate… whatever. A select band of guardian angels had surely worked overtime today.
Chapter 3
Kelly sank to her knees, her whole body trembling violently as she stared at the inferno in wide-eyed dismay. Tears fell unheeded. “There, but for the grace of God,” she murmured, echoing everyone else’s thoughts.
“We got out,” Zach reminded her. “It was a close call, but we made it.”
“You don’t suppose there’s any way…?” Her voice trailed off.
“No,” Zach replied gravely. “There nothing we could do for them now, in any case.”
“I suppose not, but just the thought that some of them might still…” She pulled in a large breath and released it heavily. “Good God! Those poor people! What a dreadful way to die!”
“Try not to think about it,” Zach advised.
“Easier said than done,” the middle-aged woman with the lank brown hair commented, her voice quivering. “I’ll be having nightmares of this for a long, long time.”
“We all will,” the soldier predicted somberly.
They watched solemnly for some minutes, until one of the unconscious passengers on the ground moaned in pain, drawing their attention away from the burning plane and back to their most immediate problem.
“How long do you think it will take our rescuers to reach us?” Alita questioned.
“I’d say that depends largely on where we’ve landed,” the steward put in. “If we’re lucky enough to have crashed on a populated island, it could be anywhere from minutes to hours, I suppose.”
“I take it you’ve flown this route before,” Zach said. “Do you have any idea where we might be?”
The man shook his head. “About halfway between New Zealand and Hawaii, somewhere in the Polynesian chain. But I have to tell you, there are thousands of atolls and islands dotting this part of the Pacific, and as far as I know, less than a third of them are inhabited. Trying to predict which one we’re on would be like hitting the lotto twice in a row.”
The man on the ground groaned again. Zach frowned. “Off hand, I’d say our best bet would be to get ourselves to lower ground. Maybe we’ll meet an emergency unit coming from below. At any rate, it won’t do us any good to stay here.”
The corporal disagreed. “If they send out a search team, or a plane to look for survivors, wouldn’t it be better if we stayed here, where we can be spotted right away?”
“That’s assuming anyone knows we’ve gone down,” Zach pointed out. He nodded toward the three most severely injured of their group, those lying unconscious at their feet. “I’m not a doctor, but I’d guess the sooner these folks get some medical attention, the better their chances of survival. If we head down now, we can reach the shore by sunset. Maybe find a village there, and some help. Besides, none of us will last long up here without food and fresh water.”
“Again, assuming there is any on this isle,” the steward added. At Kelly’s questioning look, he added wryly, “Why do you think so many of these islands haven’t been settled? They’re nothing but a pile of lava, coral, and tropical jungle.”
Any way they looked at it, their situation appeared bleak.; “I vote we go down, while we can see where we’re goin’,” the big American proposed. “I ain’t hankerin’ to get tangled up with no wild critters or snakes in the dark.”
“Snakes?” Alita screeched. Her naturally tan complexion paled even more as she eyed the dense foliage mere yards away.
“Or worse,” someone muttered.
“I’m with Zach and the big guy,” Alita decided posthaste. “Get me out of this jungle and onto a nice, safe beach. I want a phone, room service, and a margarita… and I want them as soon as possible.”
“That’s right, Alita,” Kelly commented derisively, getting shakily to her feet. “Stay true to form. Think of yourself first and foremost. Don’t bother to consider that there are others in worse straits than you. Even if you do look as if you’ve been dragged backward through a knothole.”
Alita’s dark eyes narrowed spitefully. “I’d wouldn’t talk if I were you. Your hair is a fright, and your clothes look as if you’ve crawled through the gutter in them.”
“At least I wasn’t caught in the john with my pantyhose around my ankles,” Kelly retorted. “You must have looked real cute, bouncing around in there like a marble in a pinball machine.”
Alita sprang at her, claws bared. Kelly lunged from the opposite direction. Zach stepped hastily between them. With one arm, he held Alita at bay until the soldier could corral her. His other arm coiled around Kelly’s waist, pulling her back.
“Hey! Stop it right now! We haven’t got time for your petty female squabbling.”
Kelly squirmed, resisting his hold on her. He gave her a rough shake. “I’m serious, Spike. Simmer down and can the attitude!”
“Spike?” Kelly exclaimed irately. “Who are you calling Spike?”
“You, babe.” Zach twisted her in his arms until they were eye to eye, his lit with something akin to wry amusement, despite their dire circumstances. “If that bump on your head rises any higher, you’ll look like a blasted unicorn.”
Her immediate response was to search for a smart comeback, but her beleaguered brain failed her. Her anger disintegrated as quickly as it had flared, and she wilted in his arms. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m acting this way. Especially right now.”
He steadied her before releasing her. “Probably a result of the adrenaline,” he said, somber shadows etching his features once more. “Everyone reacts differently to a crisis.”
“I… I’m okay now,” she assured him, though still flustered.
He forced a smile. “Good. Don’t want you going off the deep end. All of us are going to need our wits about us, and we’ve all got to pitch in and help one another.”
“So, are we headin’ for the beach, or what?” the big man drawled in his thick southern accent. “Time’s a-wastin’.” They took a quick vote. Only the soldier held out.
“Tell you what, Corporal,” Zach suggested. “You help get the others down. Then, if you want to come back up here and man a signal fire or something, that’s your choice, but for now, we all might be better off sticking together.”
Three of their number—a man, a woman, and a teenage boy, all unconscious—were totally incapacitated. Additionally, the steward’s left leg was badly broken. With help, he’d managed to hobble this far, in excruciating pain. He certainly couldn’t negotiate the rough terrain ahead without aid. Of the men, this left Zach, the corporal, and the newly liberate
d prisoner with the least serious injuries. Not that they’d escaped unscathed, by any means. The soldier’s hand was broken. Zach’s shoulder was dislocated and at least a couple of his ribs were fractured. Even the giant had broken his nose and was sporting a goose egg on his forehead the size of a softball. And these were just their most obvious wounds.
The women had fared only a little better. Among a variety of scrapes and bruises, Kelly suspected she had a slight concussion. Her vision kept blurring, off and on, and she wasn’t as steady on her feet as she was usually. Alita had a long gash along one leg, and kept holding her left elbow. The older woman, now in a fuzzy state of nearshock, was favoring her ribs. The fourth lady was limping on an ankle swelled three times its normal size. Her face was flecked with tiny nicks, the blood now congealed and dried in little blobs. The toddler, though fretful, appeared to have escaped relatively unharmed.
The corporal agreed, reluctantly.
“Okay, let’s take stock,” Zach proposed. “We’ve got three unconscious persons and three semi-able men to carry them. Kelly, you take charge of the old lady. Guide her along. Help her over the rough spots and make sure she doesn’t wander off by herself and get lost. You…” Zach gestured toward the woman with the toddler.
“Blair,” the woman supplied. “Blair Chevalier.”
Zach nodded. “Blair, you handle the child. Alita, that leaves you to lend a hand with the steward.”
“If you can find me something to use for a crutch, I can hobble along fairly well on my own,” the man said.
“Can someone help me with the stuff in my bundle?” Kelly asked. “It weighs more than I thought it would, and I’m sure there are things inside we might need.”
“Like what?” the felon inquired, scanning the pile of purses with masculine scorn. “Eye shadow and lipstick?”
Kelly scowled at him. “No, you overgrown sexist. Like aspirin and tweezers and maybe even a few band-aids. Safety pins to secure bandages. Even tampons can be used in place of cotton balls.”
At this, the man’s face, somewhat ruddy by nature, flushed to a dull shade of red. “Yeah, okay. I get the point.”
“I can take some of it,” Blair offered. “And if we could fashion one of those jackets or blankets into a sling for the baby, so I could carry her on my back, it would help free up my hands.”
“Make another bundle into a backpack for me,” the steward suggested.
A short time later, they were ready to depart. As one they turned, taking one last look at the burning plane— all contemplating the fate that could have been theirs, and counting their blessings that they’d somehow miraculously escaped.
“Was it a bomb, do you think?” Alita asked.
“I’d put my money on that bolt of lightning,” Zach said.
“That’s my bet, too,” the steward concurred. “It sounded like a direct hit, which could have fried all the electrical circuits and basically put the craft out of commission.”
“If that’s the case, what are the chances the pilot got off some sort of SOS?” The soldier voiced the question now uppermost in everyone’s mind.
The steward shrugged. “I’d say slim to none. The radio equipment was probably knocked out. But the black box might still be sending out a signal.”
“You think so?” Kelly inquired soberly. “Even after a crash and fire of that magnitude?”
Again the man shrugged. “Possibly. To borrow a saying from the Timex people, those things can take a licking and keep on ticking.”
“I hope you’re right,” Blair commented bleakly.
As did they all.
Their trek down the mountain—from the height and size of it, it could be termed nothing less—was difficult and fraught with its own varieties of hazard. Like many of the islands in this part of the world, it had been formed by cooled volcanic flow, and the jagged rocks underfoot were razor-sharp. This, plus having to forge their own path through the dense vegetation, slowed their progress to a snail’s pace. Of necessity, the men took the lead, taking turns hacking at the impeding undergrowth with sturdy branches, to which they’d tied their pocket knives. The others followed, single file.
Amid the trees, there was no cooling sea breeze. The humidity was nearly unbearable, making it seem as if they were sucking in water with every labored breath. Their clothing clung limply to their sweat-soaked bodies as they trudged wearily along. The endless tangle of rain-dampened plants only compounded their discomfort, slapping at them with sharp wet leaves that cut like knives and smearing them with dirt and bugs of every imaginable variety. Clouds of mosquitos hovered all around, feasting on every exposed inch of human flesh. Added to their constant buzzing were the raucous cries of island birds, disturbed by this rude intrusion into their habitat.
Vines as thick as a man’s wrist latticed across the ground and between tree limbs. Alita minced across them in her spike heels, cursing fluently in Spanish. The third time she tripped, launching herself into the brawny Southerner’s back, he stopped. With nary a word he tucked her under his arm like a stray pup, plucked her shoes off, and calmly snapped the three-inch heels from the soles. Then he shoved the shoes back on her feet, set her down, and went on as if nothing untoward had occurred.
Alita came out of her shock-induced stupor and promptly went ballistic. “You imbecile!” she shrieked after him. “You… you dumb ox! You just ruined a two hundred dollar pair of shoes!”
“So sue me!” he replied on a terse laugh. “And while I don’t mind having your sweet lips bumpin’ my backside every three steps, I’m a might busy now, sugar. Try me later, when I’m buck naked.”
As she guided the old lady and the hobbling steward around Alita, Kelly couldn’t hold back a snicker. “What do you know! Insta-flats! Maybe you’ll start a new trend, Gomez!”
“Screw you!” Alita spat. “And that giant ape, too!”
They stopped in a small clearing about halfway down for a brief rest. By this time, Zach would have sold his soul for a machete. His shoulder hurt like all hell. It felt as if someone had taken a two-by-four to it, then set it aflame with a blowtorch. He’d dislocated it once before, playing college football, but he couldn’t remember it ever hurting this badly. Though the boy he was toting downhill was about a hundred and forty pounds under normal circumstances, his inert condition added weight to his limp form. That, and thrashing through waist-high weeds with a puny stick, was fast taking its toll. At least it was his left shoulder, and not his right. Still, Zach didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to bear up.
Then again, he didn’t have much choice. Nor did the others. Each of them had injuries of some type. All were suffering varying degrees of pain, physical and emotional.
Across from Zach, Kelly sprawled next to the little old lady. The woman stirred, and murmured fretfully, “Where’s James?”
Kelly reached out to pat her age-spotted hand in a gesture of consolation. “He… he’s gone on ahead, dear.” To heaven, or purgatory, or wherever we go when we die, she added silently.
The elderly woman nodded, accepting Kelly’s statement at face value. “We celebrated our golden wedding anniversary in Australia,” the woman added with dreamy smile. “Fifty years together, yet it seems just yesterday we spoke our vows. We’re both pastors, you know. Done a lot of traveling and missionary work all over the world. Good deeds never go unrewarded. You remember that, miss… what did you say your name was?”
“Kelly. Kelly Kennedy.”
“Ah, a good Irish name if ever there was one. I’m Wynne Templeton. British to the tips of my toes, but I never did hold with all that fighting between your folks and mine. People need to learn to get along in this world. Life’s too short for all that strife and bickering.” Wynne craned her neck in the direction from which they’d come. “Something’s keeping James. It’s not like him to dally this way and make me worry. He knows how I fret over his heart condition. I do wish he’d hurry along.”
Kelly blinked hard to clear the tears from
her eyes. Her gaze, when it finally focused, centered on Zach—just in time to see him wince as he attempted to move his left arm.
“Is it your arm or your shoulder?” she asked.
“Shoulder,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I think it’s just out of place, but I swear it hurts worse than if I broke it.”
Kelly scooted over to him. “Mind if I take a look?”
He slanted her a wary glance. “I thought you ran some sort of beauty salon. What would you know about treating injuries of this nature?”
“My establishment is a health spa, too, and I’m a duly licensed massage therapist.” she informed him. “Besides that, my dad and my older brother are both osteopaths. I know more about bones and muscles than you might think. If it’s simply dislocated, I might be able to pop it back for you, and relieve a lot of your misery.”
“Or cause me more,” Zach suggested skeptically.
Kelly shrugged. “It’s your call. I only wanted to help.”
Zach hesitated. “Okay.” He mustered up a roguish wink, and added, “Do you promise to be gentle with me, darling? I don’t do this sort of ‘massage’ thing with just anybody.”
Kelly had long since heard all the ribald comments and jokes concerning masseurs, and become fairly inured to them, even those delivered by tall, dark, handsome men with bedroom eyes and come-hither smiles. Now she simply rolled her eyes and answered dryly, “Sure, that’s what they all say. It goes hand in hand with ‘I’ll respect you in the morning.’ ”
Zach grinned and cocked a brow upward. “You will, won’t you? Respect me in the morning?”
She grinned back, shaking her head in amused exasperation. “Yeah. And the check is in the mail, too. Now behave yourself and do as I tell you.”
Horizons Page 3
