Zeke

by Annette Broadrick

  She glanced out and down, her eyes widening at the sight. "Why, it's beautiful from here."

  "Yes, it is."

  "I had no idea. There's a much better view in a smaller plane."

  He gave a lopsided smile without looking at her. "That has its good points, as well as its bad."

  "I'm sorry for being so frightened. It really isn't scary at all."

  "Hey, lady. You don't owe me any apologies. Sometimes I forget what it's like to fly when you're not accustomed to it."

  "How long have you been flying?"

  "More years than I can remember."

  "Do you enjoy it?"

  "Never gave the idea much thought. Flying gets me where I need to go faster than any other method I've found."

  "How did you learn?"

  Zeke realized that she still wasn't over her nervousness. He hadn't planned to give her the story of his life. Then again, maybe he could lull her to sleep with some of the dull details.

  "The U.S. government taught me. I was in the air force."

  "Oh. When was that?"

  "I joined as soon as I graduated from college. Not one of my wiser moves, but it seemed the thing to do at the time."

  "Did you stay in the air force long?"

  "Six years. Then I found out I could make more money using my skills in civilian life."

  "Doing what?"

  "I joined an outfit that worked mostly overseas. I spent the next several years learning just how green I was."

  She was quiet for a few moments before she asked, "What did your family think about your working so faraway?"

  "My mother died my senior year at college. My dad remarried and ended up raising his new wife's three children. He didn't have much time to be concerned about me."

  "Do you see them very often?"

  "No. I doubt I'd recognize any of the children if I were to run into them."

  "That's sad."

  "What's sad about it?"

  "That you aren't close, to your family. I've missed having parents and brothers and sisters. Tio has been wonderful to me and I would never hurt his feelings by complaining, but a child alone can become very lonely."

  His gaze routinely checked the instrument panel, paused, then swept back to one of the gauges. The oil pressure was dropping. He didn't; like the looks of that.

  "Tio was so good to me. When I was smaller he used to take me with him on his business trips. We would inspect factories, discuss wool grading, talk to manufacturers. He never made me feel that I was in his way, or that he was sorry he brought me along with him. He-"

  "Angie, I don't mean to interrupt, but—"

  "What is it? What's wrong?" There was something strange in his voice... carefully neutral, as though...

  "I think we're going to have to make a stop before we get to your uncle's place."

  She stared out at the landscape. They were over rolling hills that were rapidly becoming a mountain range.

  "Where? There's no airport around, is there?"

  He reached for the radio and began to give their call letters, asking for assistance.

  There was no response.

  He muttered something beneath his breath that she felt was just as well she hadn't heard.

  She lightly touched his arm and felt the tension there. "What's wrong? Are we out of gasoline?"

  "Just as bad. It looks as though we're losing oil.. .and fast. I'm going to have to put her down. Maybe I'll spot a road. Help me look, would you?"

  During the next tense moments, the silence seemed to grow and expand. All Angie could hear was the reassuringly steady sound of the single engine, droning away.

  "There!" She pointed off to her side of the plane to a brown snakelike path on the side of a mountain. "Do you see it?"

  He nodded and banked the plane, decreasing their altitude as he headed in the new direction.

  "It's awfully twisty, isn't it?" she breathed.

  "Honey, at this point we don't have much choice. Just hang on. I promise I'll get you down in one piece. I never make a promise I can't keep, okay? You're going to be just fine."

  For some reason that she didn't understand, her earlier nervousness disappeared. Angie had no way of knowing whether the stranger beside her could keep his promise to her, but she discovered that she trusted him. If there was a way to land safely, this man would accomplish it.

  She watched the hills and heavily wooded area rushing toward them as they dropped their speed and altitude. Her eerie calm continued to hold. She watched as though she were an observer to the action rather than a participant, as though the outcome of their forced landing did not truly affect her.

  As the land continued to expand in an upwardly growing movement, she could pick out details—she saw individual trees instead of a blur of green color... the road, still winding, seemed to widen and grow in width and length... boulders took three-dimensional shape.

  Angie felt it was important for her to continue to face what was happening to them. She didn't want to close her eyes and wait for whatever was going to happen to her... to them... when they attempted a landing.

  Zeke knew what he needed for a runway length to land. He also knew the wing clearance that was mandatory if they were to survive the next few minutes. His eyes quickly scanned the area below him, intent on finding what he needed in the short time he had left. His choices were limited.

  He had been in tight places before, but he'd never had a plane go out on him before. He was too careful, going over each one carefully. There had been no warning on the flight south yesterday. There had been nothing in the preflight check earlier to point to a problem with the oil line.

  None of that mattered now. What he had to do was to get them down on the ground with as little damage as possible to either the plane or to them.

  The plane began to sputter and he knew his options were gone. "Lean down! Put your face on your knees," he shouted without looking at the woman beside him. He didn't have time to make sure she had followed his instructions as he dropped the flaps and pushed the stick forward.

  They hit hard... which wasn't surprising considering the rough texture of the road. The plane bucked like an untamed horse after its first taste of a bridle. Grimly Zeke hung on, muttering, not sure if he was praying or cursing.

  He saw a tree close to the road and sharply cut the wheel, hoping to miss it. The sudden swerve of the tires caught a rut, causing the plane to tilt slightly.

  He continued to fight for control, but it was too late. The tip of the wing came into contact with something, causing the plane to canter and the cockpit to spin.

  The last he remembered was cutting off the engine before the screen of trees seemed to rise up in front of him, covering him in darkness.

  ❧

  Angela became aware of how quiet it was after the engine stopped and they had quit moving. Shakily she raised her head and looked around.

  They were at a sharp angle, facing a thick line of trees a few feet in front of them. She turned and looked at Zeke, who was slumped over the wheel.

  Tentatively she touched his shoulder. "Zeke? Are you all right?"

  His lack of response frightened her more than anything that had happened. Didn't they need to get out of the plane? Wasn't there a fear of fuel leakage and possible fire whenever a plane crashed?

  "Zeke?"

  She released her breath when he groaned and attempted to straighten. He let out a hissing sound, then slowly forced himself upright in the seat. Carefully he turned his head and looked at her. Blood ran from a cut on his forehead. Awkwardly he lifted his right hand and touched the wound on the left side of his face.

  "You okay?" he asked, a muscle in his jaw jumping with tension. He had his teeth clenched.

  She nodded. "But you aren't. You're bleeding!" she said, her voice shaking.

  He nodded. "Can you reach the first aid box behind you? There should be some pads in there."

  She fumbled with the straps that had held her so securely in place, then
found the box. Opening it, she removed some pads and bandages, which she tore free of their wrappings. She leaned over and held the pad against his head.

  That's when she saw his shoulder. There was something wrong, but she couldn't tell exactly what. "What's wrong with your shoulder?"

  "I think it's dislocated, but I'm not sure. I just know it hurts like the very devil." He shifted in an attempt to take the weight off his left arm, which had been thrown against the side of the plane when they hit.

  Angie had to brace herself to keep from toppling over on him. After hurriedly tying a strip of gauze around Zeke's head to keep the pad in place, she undid the straps around him and with his help eased him out of the seat. Because the left wing was crumpled and the door jammed, they had to crawl out of the plane at an upward angle.

  Once on the ground, Zeke surveyed the damage. The left wing was finished and the wheel on that side had been broken off. Outside of that, the fuselage and the tail structure appeared intact.

  Zeke checked the gas tank, relieved not to find a rupture there. He moved toward Angie, keeping a tight grip on his left arm in an effort to keep the weight from causing the throbbing pain to increase to fiery flames of intense agony. He stopped in front of her while she eyed him uncertainly.

  "Will you help me get my shirt off? If we can rig a sling for my arm, I won't need to use my other arm for support."

  He fumbled with the buttons until she nudged his hand aside and quickly unfastened the shirt. He held out his good arm. She tugged on the sleeve until he could slip his arm out, then she went up on her toes to slide it off his shoulders. In doing so, she found her nose almost buried in his warm chest.

  Angie had never been so close to a shirtless man before. She was intensely aware of the hard planes, as well as the thick mat of curls that covered the broad expanse.

  She took a step back, drew an unsteady breath and eased the shirt over his injured shoulder and arm, aware of the hiss of pain that escaped from his clenched teeth.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered contritely. Never had Angie felt so inadequate in a situation. Zeke was the one injured and he was having to tell her what to do. She folded the shirt and slipped it around his arm. "If you can lean down toward me, I'll tie it behind your back."

  Now that his adrenaline level had dropped a little, Zeke could feel the excruciating pain in his shoulder even more. His head burned where he'd received the cut. He leaned against the wing of the plane and allowed Angie to tie his shirt for him. He hoped the bone in his shoulder wasn't broken. He had enough problems without that at the moment.

  "There. That should hold," he heard her say. Zeke opened his eyes and stared into a pair of worried green ones only inches away. "Thanks." "I'm sure it hurts quite dreadfully." He sighed. "Yeah, well, you know how us macho types are... we can't admit to feeling minor pain."

  She ignored his attempt at humor. "I've got something for pain in my purse, if you think it will help. I need it every month when I—. That is, I'm sure it would help you just as much, if you'd like to try some."

  He closed his eyes for a brief moment, considering. When he opened them, he said, "Sounds good to me, even if it shoots my image all to hell."

  She found her purse and the small vial inside, then returned to the plane for the thermos that Zeke had filled with water before they left Mexico City. After carefully pouring the clear liquid into the lid, she placed two tablets in his mouth and held the container for him.

  She shivered at the touch of his breath on her fingers, feeling foolish at her reaction. Why this man should make her feel so nervous, she wasn't certain. Why he affected her heart and breathing rate whenever she got this close to him was an even bigger mystery.

  He took the thermos lid from her quivering fingers and drained the water from it. "Thanks." He looked at the road that turned out of sight only a few yards ahead of them. "At least we made it down in one piece."

  "Yes. You did a magnificent job of landing safely."

  He started toward the front of the aircraft. "I've got to see what happened to our oil pressure."

  "Do you think you should be moving around just yet? Maybe if you rest for a while—"

  Zeke cut his eyes around at her from where he stood by the cowl of the engine. "I'll let you know if I need any more help, okay?"

  Angie nodded, silenced by his look more than his words. She watched as he lifted the cowl and began to check out the mysterious intricacies of the engine.

  Glancing around them, she saw nothing but trees, boulders and the deserted road. "If there were any people nearby they would surely have heard us come down," she said into the silence.

  "That's true enough," he replied without looking up from what he was doing. After several more minutes of silence he let out a muffled oath, drawing her attention back to him.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Someone cut through the oil line."

  A tiny wisp of fear wended its way through her stomach. Walking over to where he stood, she paused to clear her throat before asking, "Are you sure?"

  He straightened and looked around at her. "I'm sure. Whoever did it had the cut line spliced so that only after the oil got hot would the splice melt away, letting the oil leak out."

  He'd gotten some oil on his hand and on one of his bare shoulders. Her gaze kept returning to his chest. She forced herself to look away, staring at the trees and the sharp incline of the road.

  "What are we going to do?"

  He looked around the deserted area, as well. "Good question."

  "Who would want to cause us engine problems?" "Another good question. I have a hunch they wanted to cause more than engine problems. We could have easily crashed once the oil was gone and the engine overheated."

  The wisp of fear seemed to grow and wrap around her. She shivered, hugging her elbows. In an attempt to lighten the situation, she asked, "Do you by any chance have an enemy or two you neglected to mention?"

  He eyed her warily. "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it was someone who didn't want you to reach home."

  When he saw the look on her face, he wished he hadn't been so quick to respond to her teasing. However, the facts were obvious. Somebody had decided to get rid of one—or both—of them. Whoever it was had somehow managed to breach the hangar security where he had left the plane the night before. Or maybe it was one of the employees there. Had they been bribed?

  Who would want to have him—or Angie—killed?

  Was it possible someone had discovered what he was doing in Mexico and had decided to use this opportunity to silence him?

  Zeke carefully wiped his fingers on an oil rag, wincing at the movement of his arm, then walked over to where Angela stood in the middle of the road.

  He could feel the beads of perspiration trickle down his back from the heat of the overhead sun. He also knew that once the sun set the air would cool rapidly.

  He looked up and down the deserted roadway. "Well, whoever they are, they're going to be powerfully disappointed, aren't they?" He ducked under the wing and stepped up so that he could crawl into the cockpit. He discovered a couple of flying jackets, a towel and more first aid supplies.

  He gathered up the flight maps and other items, stuffing them into a small duffel bag, then got out of the plane.

  "Did you happen to notice any villages or settlements earlier?" he asked, unfolding one of the maps.

  "No."

  "Neither did I, although I wasn't concentrating on anything but a landing strip at the time." He studied the topographical map for long, silent minutes. He could see why his request for assistance had gone unanswered. There was very little in the way of civilization along this stretch of the mountains. They were about halfway between Mexico City and Monterrey.

  The question now was, what would be the best direction for them to take in order to find help quickly? It was anybody's guess.

  He glanced around at the woman standing there watching him. She had regained some color in her face, probably due to the heat. Her hair had
come out of its neat coil. Feathery wisps hung around her ears and neck and across her forehead.

  She wasn't dressed for wilderness survival, there was no doubt about that. In her neatly tailored blouse and skirt, she looked totally out of place standing on that dusty and deserted road.

  From all indications, they weren't going to get any immediate help from nearby residents. That didn't leave them with very many options. "This road must lead somewhere," he said, wiping a trickle of perspiration from his cheek. He glanced down at the duffel bag at his feet. "I'm going to go look for some help, maybe a ride into the closest town, something." He turned to her. "Do you want to wait with the plane or come with me?"

  She looked up and down the road, looked at the plane, then finally met his gaze. "Are you going to leave the plane sitting here blocking the road?"

  His head was pounding, the bright sunlight hurt his eyes, and the heat was making him feel nauseous. At the moment he didn't really care what happened to the damned plane.

  "Are you afraid we're going to cause a traffic jam?"

  She didn't say anything to that, but she felt uncomfortable with the idea of abandoning the plane. However, she liked the idea of staying there alone even less. She glanced down at her clothes, thankful for her low-heeled shoes.

  She wasn't sure what she should do. Shouldn't one of them stay with the plane in case they were spotted from the air? But if Zeke was determined to go looking for help, did she dare allow him to go alone?

  He could be more seriously injured than he was letting on. What if he barely got out of sight before he passed out? She would be sitting there alone, waiting for help that would never come, while he would be unconscious, a prey to whatever wild animals might live in these mountains.

  She shivered at the thought. Why did she have to have such a vivid imagination?

  "I'll go with you," she said. "Do you have any idea how long it will take to find someone?"

  "In the best of all possible worlds, we'll find a Texaco station around the next bend, but somehow I don't think that's going to happen." He motioned to the plane. "Do you want anything out of your luggage before we go? I can't guarantee that whatever you leave will be here when we return, although I intend to lock it."