by Alice Reeds
How exactly that was true, I wasn’t sure, since my best grade in chemistry last year had been a C, though I could understand why they picked Miles. Straight As across the board and a handsome face. Too bad he was a dick hiding behind expensive clothes, but Briola Bio Tech didn’t know that.
As if to prove my point, he started taking selfies. On a next-year’s iPhone. He scrolled through them quickly before choosing one to post on Instagram.
“Really, Miles? Would it hurt you to post something other than your own face for once?”
“Not my fault I have almost two hundred and seventy thousand followers who love my face,” he said without taking his eyes off his phone. “You, on the other hand…”
If he had even an ounce of humility, his popularity might have been attractive. Or if he posted something more than selfies with captions stupid enough to decrease my IQ just from reading them.
I only had about forty thousand followers, steadily built over a period of years rather than instant fame, but they had more to say than heart-eyes emojis. Some of the best kickboxing and martial arts discussions happened in the comments of my competition pics. I’d take that over a brainless feed any day.
“Mr. Echo, Ms. Wolf.” A woman in a blue, white, and yellow uniform, topped off with a tiny striped hat and matching neckerchief, approached us. “I’m Stephany,” she said. “And I’ll be your flight attendant. If you’ll follow me, please, your plane is ready.”
My palms were sweating again. There were literally no other passengers around. Just Miles and me. Something about the situation felt really off.
I caught up to the attendant, with Miles somewhere behind me. Stephany led us through a set of sliding glass doors. Outside, we were met by a blast of suffocating heat—even by Miami standards—and blinding sunlight. No wonder Miles had left his sunglasses on.
And was that…? Holy crap. A private jet. It looked like the one I’d seen Adam Lambert fly in during his tour with Queen. A set of stairs opened up in front of us, leading inside.
It didn’t make any sense. Sure, our school—the Academy for Fine Education, what preposterous and pompous nonsense—was full of rich kids like Miles. They looked at me the same way he did. Oh, she’s here on a scholarship. I was sure they could have flown everyone out in their own jets, but why Briola Bio Tech would treat two interns with such style was baffling.
“Stephany, are you sure this is our flight?”
“Yes,” she assured me, the smile on her face kind, understanding. “Everything is correct. Your luggage is already stowed away, and the pilot merely waiting for you to settle in.”
I was flying to Germany. In a private jet with flat-screen TVs. And internet. This was a once-in-a-lifetime luxury.
As I found a seat, Miles flopped down across the aisle from me. The plane could fit up to eight passengers, but it was just the two of us. I set my luggage on the next seat over, buckled up, and pulled my book out.
Anne of Green Gables.
One of my best friends was an old homeless guy named Joe. Calling him “out there” was a bit of an understatement. Conspiracy theories are legit. Microwaves cause cancer. The government is watching everyone. The Mandela effect is totally a thing.
Sometimes, I saw him playing chess at the park—sometimes alone and other times with whoever felt up to the challenge of playing against him—and it took him ten minutes just to make his move and notice I was standing behind him. But then he’d smile, and we’d talk about books until it was time for him to make his next move on the chess board.
Every week, I bought a new book at the used bookstore. He was even poorer than me, though, so I always gave it to him when I was done.
I’d mentioned to him that I would be gone for three weeks during the summer. It wouldn’t have bothered me if he hadn’t remembered, because he wasn’t always with it. Sometimes I thought I was just a welcome distraction for him. But he’d surprised me with this book about Anne, and a bracelet he’d made himself. Nothing extravagant, yet so special. He owned next to nothing, but still, he’d found a way to give me something.
“Anne’s a fighter,” he’d said. “Just like you.”
Joe could be strange at times—weren’t we all—but he genuinely cared. This book was proof.
I’d barely gotten through a page when the plane rolled to the runway.
Stephany moved my bag into the overhead compartment then eyed my book but didn’t take it. Miles had made himself comfortable, stretching his legs across a seat opposite him.
“You don’t happen to have some Aquadeco on board?” he asked, and I wondered if he made that up. But the flight attendant nodded and went to retrieve what was likely just tap water in a fancy bottle.
This luxe was standard for him. I wouldn’t be surprised if Daddy Dearest always let him fly in private jets. Who decided it was fair to hand out that much privilege to only a chosen few?
Takeoff was smoother than any other I remembered. I could be privileged, too, even if only for this flight. So there. I leaned against the cubby window and watched as Miami grew smaller and smaller until it was nothing but ocean and clouds.
Once I plugged my headphones into my armrest, I turned on the touchscreen TV—more like an oversized iPad, really—in front of me. It welcomed me with a map that showed our location, time, date, and how much time was left until we reached Berlin. The movies available weren’t even remotely interesting, though, so I turned the TV off and picked up my book again.
A few more chapters in, I felt my eyes growing heavy. With a ten-hour flight ahead of us, crossing the Atlantic and into Europe, I might as well sleep.
…
The engine erupts into flames. Oxygen masks drop from above. The plane dips and takes my heart with it.
Falling. Falling. Falling—
“Wake up,” Miles said. “Fiona, we’re—”
My eyes flew open, heart racing. Pounding so hard my chest ached.
“What happened?” I looked out the window. Sunrise. Clouds. Airplane wing intact. “What’s”—my throat caught—“what’s wrong?”
The front half of the plane breaks off. Open air. The ocean. And coming closer, too fast, we’re going to crash, an island—
“It’s the pilot,” Miles said, eyes wide. He swallowed and clutched his armrests. “He—he says we’re…oh God.” My stomach jumped hot into my throat. Then a smile spread across his stupid chiseled face as his body relaxed. “He says we’re landing in five. Just thought you’d want to know.”
Jerk.
“Not funny.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my pant legs and tried to banish the remaining flashes of my nightmare. Unfortunately, the same technique wouldn’t get rid of Miles. “What would it take for you to never speak to me again?”
“A billion bucks.”
Asshole. I turned away from him.
When we dipped beneath the clouds, I looked out the window and saw a sea of light: Berlin. The sky was slowly transforming from night to day. It was around five a.m. Germany time.
When the plane began its descent, I felt that earlier sense of darkness, of plummeting to the ground, the strange dream of a crash, a dead pilot, panic and dread… But touchdown was smooth and standard. We taxied and then stopped a little way from a building.
I’d slept during the better part of the flight but didn’t feel rested. My nervousness over the day ahead of us crept up on me. Was this jet lag? I took my bag from the compartment, getting my feet used to solid ground again, trying not to sway. Outside, the air was different from the humidity back home in Florida. This air was dry. Crackling. Charged.
Stephany led us to the small building. The inside of this airport wasn’t as fancy as the one we left in Miami, a single open space instead of a couple of rooms and sections, but it had similar glass doors with Star Aviation Support TXL written on them. The walls and stone flooring were white with a deep burgundy carpet running through the middle like a runway. The employees took forever checking our passports then finally handed o
ver our luggage.
As I zipped up my hoodie, Miles primped, pulling and smoothing his clothes back into position. He checked his hair in a window reflection.
Even more unsettling than his ridiculous vanity was the fact we were alone. “Isn’t someone supposed to come around and get us? One of the emails said a Briola rep would take us to our hotel…I thought.”
Miles shrugged.
Guess we’d have to wait a little more. Annoying, but it gave me time to text my parents that we’d landed—Mom worried herself sick about me whenever I was away from home.
When I’d first told my parents about the trip, about how I’d been chosen for this Berlinternship, my father had been less than impressed. Not unusual. If it wasn’t a gold kickboxing medal, what did it matter?
Dear old Dad.
With a stone-faced expression, he’d complained how going would mean me missing three weeks of practice, how I needed that time if I wanted to succeed at Nationals. But in the end, with a bit of talking to Mom, he caved. At least Mom was on my side. My biggest cheerleader.
I pulled out my phone and took it off airplane mode. Getting a reply from them any time soon, considering it was almost midnight back home, was unlikely. Once I was done, I closed my message app then scrolled through Instagram and liked a selfie my best friend, Melany, had posted. It was of her and her internship partner at LAX. They were pretending to drink out of a water-cooler spigot in what looked like a break room. Cute.
Just as I was about to put my phone away, I saw it. The little red bubble.
Ding.
A voicemail?
My parents never called me without texting first. Who…?
I looked up. Miles was typing away on his own phone, absorbed by his different universe from mine. The Briola representative was still nowhere to be seen.
So I hit play and raised the phone to my ear. A familiar male voice floated out from the speaker. My homeless, chess-playing friend.
“Fiona, it’s Joe.” There was a pause so long I thought the voicemail had ended, then he said, “There’s something you have to know. They’re watching you. They’re behind this.” Another pause. “Trust no one.”
Chapter Three
The Island
When I was five years old and still living in New York, I went to Central Park for the first time. A group of parents had decided to take my friends and me there so we could play. See something more of the city. It’d taken a while to get there, or at least it felt that way to us, since we were possibly the least patient children ever. But in the end, it had been so worth it. The park was magic with all the trees and green and critters. I saw a real live squirrel. Not at all like my part of the city.
At some point, on a sugar high from way too much ice cream, we’d decided to play hide and seek. I wanted to find the best place to hide. And I did—in the heart of some trees. Once I realized I was lost, it was too late.
First I cried, then I screamed. When my dad found me, I learned my first big lesson.
“You’re not strong enough to handle this much fear,” he said. “No one is.”
The answer was to disconnect from it. To numb it. I had to be brave.
Twelve years later, I still heard those words every time I went into a kickboxing match. And times like now, when my heart sped up at the thought of going into the jungle alone.
We need to find the pilot.
He could be dying, and here I was hesitating. I should have been easier on myself. More forgiving. But I wasn’t the forgiving type. If I wanted to get out of this alive, I couldn’t afford to be.
So I rolled my shoulders, calmed my breath and my wildly beating heart, and stepped into the jungle.
…
Humanity explored jungles and forests for centuries, wrote tales of adventures and songs about the thrill of discovering new places. Maybe that was how I should’ve looked at it. Who knew? Maybe we were the first people to ever be wherever we were. Maybe I was the first person to ever step into this particular jungle.
Which meant only wildlife lived here. Not a comforting thought after all.
Palm trees rose high toward the sky, their leaves big and offering shade. The ground was soft and easy to walk on. Columns of sunlight slipped through the gaps between leaves. The farther I went, the denser the trees became. Colorful flowers in blues, pinks, and hues of orange dotted some of the bushes and plants closer to the ground.
I pulled out my phone. Silly, but I had to know, and yep, there was no cell signal or wifi. Which made sense. If we were on a deserted island, the phones were useless. And then, without a warning or goodbye, it died on me altogether. The battery must have drained during the long flight.
The snap of a branch made my heart drop into my stomach. I stopped, crouched, and went into a fighting stance. My eyes darted over everything around me. Up every trunk, across every bush and rock, over the ground. But there was nothing unusual. Maybe I’d been the one to snap the branch. Maybe it was just some bird. Something harmless. Or maybe I’d imagined it.
Be fearless. Wouldn’t be the first time my dad insisted it was all in my head.
I continued on, my steps much more cautious now. I’d been taught to tread lightly on quick feet, a feather in the ring. I could hesitate on the inside, but I couldn’t let my opponents see me flinch.
The wind rustled through the leaves above me. The chirp of a bird off in the distance, the crunch of a dry leaf—anything my ears could pick up on. The more I focused on those noises, the more distant the sound of my heart and breathing became in my own ears. Good. I needed to be in control of the situation, of my own fear.
Stepping out into a small clearing, I looked toward the sky. It was much harder to see the smoke from there than from the beach, but I could just make it out. It seemed weaker, the color fainter, the plume thinner. Time to pick up the pace. If the smoke died out, I might never find the plane.
Assuming the pilot was even still alive. If he was, if he could do anything, wouldn’t he have already sent an SOS signal? Alerted anyone and everyone that we were here? Who knew, maybe we were lucky, and he’d done it, but it would simply take a while for anyone to come.
Unless he was unconscious.
I had to hold on to the thought, cling to it as though my life depended on it. My mom always used to tell me that I could do anything I wanted to if I just worked for it. If I tried hard enough. Wanted it enough. I hoped she would be right this time. I had no idea if our parents knew what had happened to us, if anyone did, and I didn’t even want to imagine how worried Mom would be once she found out.
The foliage became absurdly thick, some leaves bigger than an iPad, others thin and long like tall grass, and the occasional ferns in between. The air felt heavy, moist almost, with a hint of smoke the farther I went—a good sign. Pushing through it was like pushing through water. Slow. Exhausting. Suffocating. But a tree had fallen over and crushed a small path forward. If I could get higher, maybe I could see better.
With both hands, I pulled myself up onto the tree. One end was propped between two other trees, and the other dug into the ground. Its bark was partially covered by soft moss, but really, it was pretty smooth, barely any texture. My shoes slipped as I climbed onto it, but I grabbed a branch, my knuckles turning white—
Somewhere in front of me, between the branches of a couple of trees, I saw…something. The thick branches, leaves, and bushes obscured it, but not entirely. I could see pieces of something bulky, brown, and furry, and it seemed big. Really big.
Slowly, quietly, I lowered myself back down the tree. The last thing I wanted was to invade some animal’s territory.
Too late. It let out a loud roar like thunder, a blend of different animal noises like some kind of pissed off lion and a hungry bear. What the hell is that thing? Branches and leaves leaned away and shivered as the animal moved toward me.
Whatever that animal was, it wasn’t friendly, and I didn’t care if it was trying to drive me off or wanted to eat me.
> As soon as my feet hit the ground, I swallowed hard and took off in a random direction, not thinking where I was going besides away. Faster and faster, I ran past trees and jumped over branches here and avoided running into something there. My breathing became labored too quickly, quicker than it had in years. My legs, already exhausted from walking and climbing, ached and burned, like someone had set them on fire.
Branches tore at my sleeves, scratched my skin, but I pushed on. Part of me wanted to turn around just long enough to see how close it was, what it was, but that would be stupid. Duck and weave, dodge and feint.
Could I climb a tree and hide? No. I’d still be scaling it when the beast snatched me out of the air. But maybe something to hide behind?
Yes, there. A dip in the ground surrounded by taller bushes, ferns, and some rocks. And those exotic flowers. Those gorgeous colors. Who would have thought my blue hair would one day work like camouflage?
Ignoring the poke of branches sticking out of the bushes, I dove into them and made myself as tiny as possible. I closed my eyes, calmed my breathing, and listened. Crunch. Thud. The beast was close. But then, silence.
I had no idea how far I’d run, how close I’d been to the other half of the plane before I’d had to turn around, how far I would have to go to get back to that place. But in that moment, all that mattered was I was still alive, and the sounds of the beast didn’t seem to be getting closer anymore. I couldn’t see it. Couldn’t even see branches bending away from its body. But I still heard it. Deep, wet breaths.
I held my hand over my mouth. Quiet. Stay quiet.
After a few moments, the branches bent again, but farther away from me. The deep breaths continued but grew more distant. It was leaving! It had given up.
Letting out a sigh of relief, I relaxed, at least somewhat. I’d been lucky this time, somehow, but my body had surprised me, let me down in a way it hadn’t in a long time. I wouldn’t be able to fight that thing if I had to, at least not today. Hopefully I wouldn’t need to any time soon, though. I just wanted to get off this island, which meant getting back up and continuing to look for that damn plane.
