“Coming,” she called out, turning to Ryan. “Will you check on the man in the front row?”
“Yes, go. I got it,” Ryan assured, urging her down the aisle. Joss went as fast as she safely could, stepping over obstacles blocking her way. She quickly glanced at the large black man in the front row. She couldn’t see clearly, but he appeared to be moving, which made her feel a little better.
She traded places with Charles, to examine the captain herself. He had a large gash on his head and was unconscious. She checked for a pulse. It was weak and thready, and she knew she had to get his feet elevated as soon as possible, before she could deal with the head gash.
“Charles, clear a path, help me lay him down,” Joss barked, wasting no time on pleasantries. He did as she asked without hesitation and they made quick work of attending to him. She raised his feet, hastily looking around for something to cover him. As though anticipating her needs, Charles hurried back to his seat, returning with his suit jacket.
“Will this work?” he asked, handing it to her.
“Perfect. Did you find a first-aid kit?” she enquired, looking up at him with gratitude. She covered her patient, wrapping the jacket around him tightly. He’d still not gained consciousness, but his breathing had become steadier. She felt encouraged by that.
“Yes, it’s here,” he coughed, handing it to her. She looked up at him, suddenly worried about him. She took the tin box from his hand, instructing him to sit down. He sat in the pilot seat, rotating the chair toward her.
“Are you ok, Charles? You’re looking a little unsteady?”
He gave her a thumbs up, as though unwilling to distract her. She returned to the captain and assessed his head wound. It was deep. She looked around for something to clean the wound.
“Hand me that water bottle, over in the cup holder,” she insisted, gesturing toward it. Charles quickly retrieved it and she unscrewed the cap with her teeth, pouring water over the wound to clean it out. She gently put pressure on it with her palm, desperate to stop the bleeding. He needed stitches. Opening the first aid kit, she searched for a suture kit but had to settle for bandages instead.
“Can I help?”
Joss looked up into a pair of kind, caramel eyes. It was the last passenger, the one she’d bypassed. His tone was reassuringly calm, and he quickly set her at ease.
“Are you afraid of blood?” she asked, shifting over to make room for him. It was a tight squeeze, but she needed the extra pair of hands.
“No, Ma’am,” he assured, crouching beside her. He gently placed his dark hand over hers. She allowed him to take over, slipping out from beneath him.
“Here, put some pressure on it. Like this...” she placed her hand over his and pressed down, showing him how much she was looking for. He looked up at her and nodded, as though he appreciated the brief, reassuring touch. She smiled back, comforted by him as well.
After Joss had the captain bandaged and stable, she finally allowed herself to sit down. She took a long pull off her water and looked at the men around her, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. They had huddled together, closer to her, and one another, as though they needed the connection. Although frightened, they all appeared well. She had been so busy taking care of business that she never even considered how lucky they were the plane was still intact, that they were all alive.
“What do we do now?” Ryan asked quietly. She looked up and saw all eyes on her, waiting for her to speak.
“We wait,” she whispered, listening to the rain pelting against the roof of the aircraft. “Someone will come.”
Chapter 8
Their terror finally subsided as the pale light of morning broke through the darkness. It was still storming and the relentless sound of rain pelted against the aircraft, the ocean waves thrashing them around, determined and unforgiving. Joss had not slept at all, and her bladder was screaming at her.
She looked around the cabin, assessing the situation. It was hard to tell how much damage the aircraft had actually endured, but one thing was certain, they were at the mercy of their rescuers. She hoped that someone was out searching for them. Certainly by now their absence would be noted and the calvary would be on their way.
Captain Grant had still not regained consciousness and Joss was worried. She knelt down beside him and checked his vitals. Without proper diagnostic equipment it was impossible to tell the extent of his injuries. She prayed there was no internal bleeding. He must have taken the brunt of the impact and she was concerned about crush injuries. For now he was breathing steadily and his pulse had normalized, so she held on hope to that. She wiped his lips, soaking his tongue with a wet cloth. She knew he needed fluids, but it was too dangerous to feed him water while he was unconscious. He could very easily take fluid into his lungs and aspirate, adding considerably to his troubles.
“Good morning.”
Joss looked up, her eyes following the soft voice that had greeted her.
“Morning,” she whispered, realizing that, in all the chaos, they had not exchanged names .
“How’s he doing?”
“Ok, I think. It’s hard to know for sure,” she admitted, covering her patient. “How are you?”
“I’m doing ok, considering,” he nodded, stifling a yawn. “What’s your name?”
“Joss Stevens. What’s yours?”
“Willie Russell.”
“The basketball player?”
Joss and Willie both turned their heads toward Ryan, who’d just woken up.
“Lakers, right? I’m a huge fan. I had on-court seats during that magical game against the Knicks, the one where you scored a million points. You were unreal, man. A monster,” Ryan gushed. Smiling, Willie dropped his head, humbled by the compliment. Joss found it endearing.
“Yeah, things were really going my way that night,” Willie agreed, waving off any more accolades. Ryan shrugged, as though he didn’t quite understand the modesty.
“And you’re Ryan Watt?” Willie asked quietly, raising a brow. Ryan nodded, and leaned over the seat, offering his hand to shake. Smiling, Willie shook the man’s hand, with obvious respect. Joss cocked her head and took a long look at Ryan, suddenly placing him. He was an actor, she was right.
“Pleasure to meet you, man,” Ryan said, “sorry it’s under such lousy circumstances.”
Joss stood up, her achy bladder pulling in her groin. She needed to relieve herself, and soon. She looked out the window, but the visibility outside was still piss poor. All she could see was grey. Grey sky, grey ocean, and lots and lots of grey rain. It was still very early and she hoped as the dawn gave way to morning, things would become a little more clear. It would be hard for a search party to locate them, but damn near impossible in bad weather.
Joss looked around the plane, and saw that all the men were stirring from their slumber, if they’d slept at all. They were quiet, each of them catching her gaze, assessing her as though she had the answers, held the cards for their survival. Somehow, in the chaos of the crash, they had designated her the leader. She needed to keep her cool, they were depending on it.
“So I have a question,” she asked calmly, a weak smile forming on her lips. “How are you all relieving yourselves, cause this might pose a problem for me?”
Joss was relieved to hear them chuckle, her words received as lightly as she’d intended them. Daniel held up a water bottle, filled with the unmistakeable shade of urine. She’d never been jealous of a penis before, but in this case she made an exception. As awesome as it was to be a woman, multiple orgasms not withstanding, she could never pee standing up. She would need a much larger target. She looked at each of the men, nodding in unison at her, and sighed, wishing the small plane had a lavatory.
“Fuck,” she mumbled, unconcerned with her cursing. She was in too much discomfort for pleasantries.
“May I make a suggestion?” Charles offered, his eyes filled with concern. He seemed to understand the urgency of her problem. She turned to him and nod
ded, desperate for a solution. If she were alone, she’d probably just drop and pee, but being the only woman on board, she was feeling especially vulnerable, and modesty was winning the argument.
“Please,” she said, half encouraging, half begging him to solve her dilemma.
“How about this Pringles container? We can just dump the chips out, or better yet, we can share them for breakfast,” he offered, holding the can in the air. Sour Cream and Onion.
Joss grinned from ear to ear, and held her hand out. She carefully dumped the chips into Ryan’s baseball cap and handed it to him. Now to find somewhere discreet, she thought, looking anxiously around the aircraft. As though reading her mind, Charles stood up and gestured her toward the back of the plane, where she’d been sitting the night before.
“Crouch back there, we’ll give you privacy, right boys?” he urged.
Joss looked around, receiving their nods of encouragement. She nodded back in agreement and made her way to the rear of the aircraft, Charles respectfully following behind. There was a small space she could easily tuck into, behind the last row of seats,
“Will this help?” he asked, holding up her wrap. Using it as a makeshift curtain, he tucked the corners of the material beneath the head rests of opposite chairs blocking the opening.
“Yes, thank you,” Joss agreed, appreciating the gesture. She tucked herself behind the curtain and quickly relieved herself, feeling a million times better. She capped the lid of the Pringles can and set it in the corner, safe and sound, for her next visit to the “loo”. Using a tiny bit of water, she wash her hands, wiping them on her shorts before making her way back up the narrow aisle, to where the boys were sharing breakfast.
Charles nodded at her warmly and handed her a healthy share of chips. Joss looked down at the snack in her hand, knowing full well that they needed to take an inventory of food and water and figure out their provisions before eating or drinking anything else, just in case it took a few days for their rescue (or longer, she feared). Their survival depended on it. The rule of three kept echoing in her head like an ear worm, in the same way a catchy tune might.
Three weeks without food, three days without water, three minutes without air.
For the moment they were above the ocean, so breathing wasn’t an issue, but it wouldn’t take long for the lack of food and water to pose a problem.
She ate four chips then wrapped the rest in a tissue that she’d found in her carry on, setting them aside.
“Listen, guys, until we get rescued we have to figure out what we have in this floating tin can that we can use for our survival. We’ll need to sort through all our stuff and clean up the area for our own safety. Does anyone have food? Water?” Joss pressed, as diplomatically as she could. She was used to offering direction to others, and taking charge. She was skilled in diplomacy and knew how to address people to either rally them up or to calm them down, whatever the situation called for.
“There’s a case of water under the front row seats,” Willie offered, “I saw it when I tried to tuck my bag under my chair.” He crouched down and pulled the case up for the others to see. “It probably belongs to the captain. Looks like there are only four missing bottles.”
“That’s good,” Joss encouraged, “leave it on the seat and we will use those two chairs to pile whatever else we find. Let’s look through our things and share whatever we find. Agreed?”
At Joss’s instructions, the four men piled everything together. Joss even placed her small handful of chips into the mix, despite objections from Charles. He said it was only fair she should eat them, since they’d all eaten their share, that she needed to keep up her strength. She just shook her head and waved him off, knowing that ultimately she would require fewer calories than they would.
Their inventory was measly, just as Joss suspected. She calculated what they had and figured that, between the six of them (including the captain), they had enough food and water to last about three days. They would need to be rescued or find a way to shore, and she had no clue how far they were from land. Due to the storm they couldn’t see five feet past the windows.
Joss wrote in her journal, making a list of everything they found:
20-500 ml bottles of Fiji brand water
2 stainless steel water bottles, approximately half full (24 oz?) Can of coke unopened
Apple juice (16 oz glass bottle)
Reese’s pieces, family size, unopened (48 oz bag)
Handful of Pringles (16 chips)
Hickory flavored almonds, opened tin (approximately 8 oz?) Bag of jujubes (35 pieces)
Trident gum (6 pieces)
Orange flavored Tic Tacs (1/2 full)
Thermos of black coffee (full)
It wasn’t much but it was something. They could work with that. She carefully did the math to ensure that everyone would have a fair share, including the captain when he woke up. She eyed the coffee longingly, wishing she could enjoy a cup, in spite of it being lukewarm.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Charles teased, slipping in beside her.
“What?” Joss replied, turning around.
“The coffee. God, I want some. I smelled it as soon as you opened the lid.”
She looked him over carefully, really looked at him for the first time since getting on the plane the night before. He was extraordinary, in spite of appearing sleepless and disheveled. His eyes were the brightest blue she’d ever seen, the color of topaz, with lashes that any woman would envy. He was probably in his forties, but he didn’t look it, with the kindest face. What’s more, he seemed to be looking out for her. She was inappropriately attracted to him, given their predicament.
“I know, but we really need to be cautious,” she urged, touching him gently. He looked down at her hand, as though considering the effect of her touch. She felt it too. She meant it to provide comfort, but couldn’t deny their chemistry. He smiled warmly at her, caressing the top of her hand.
“I understand,” he agreed. “What now?”
“I guess we try to make it last as long as we can. Once the storm subsides, someone will come for us. I’m sure of it,” she said confidently. “And we need to conserve the batteries on our cell phones. We aren’t getting a signal anyway and we never know when they might come in handy.”
“You guys hear that?” Charles cautioned gently, addressing everyone at once. Joss looked up and noticed Ryan turning off his iPhone.
“I was playing solitaire,” he chuckled, slipping it into his pocket.
She knew everyone needed to keep their spirits up until their rescue. It was imperative to remain as calm and focused as possible. The only thing that really worried her was their pilot. She needed to watch him carefully. If he didn’t wake up soon, things might turn ugly for him. For now they were ok, and she needed to hold on to that.
Chapter 9
It was Sunday morning, very early, and they were fucking miserable. Miserable and nauseous, and the tiny plane had taken on a stench that no one should ever have to endure. Six grown adults perspiring in an itty bitty space, relieving themselves in the same place they lived, ate, and slept. Even though they had tried to keep the area clean, it was unbearable. The rain refused to give up and they were officially in the morning of the third day, floating and rolling through unbearable waves. They were all claustrophobic and going stir crazy, including Joss. She was desperate to be outside, to stretch her legs, and breathe in some fresh air. They had opened the door on a few occasions, to dump their ‘waste’ and let in some fresh air, but it was not safe. The plane was leaning to one side and jerking around too much, and sea water was dangerously close to surging through the opening. Even a few minutes of fresh air was better than nothing.
Captain Grant had stirred for a few minutes earlier that morning, when it was still dark. He was disoriented and semi-conscious, but Joss was able to offer him a little water before he drifted off again. That made her feel a little better, although she was still concerned for him. She wished she
could draw on his experience and ask him questions about the aircraft, their flight plan, and typical search and rescue operations in the South Pacific. Surely he would know the protocol.
“Joss, do you want something to eat?” Daniel whispered, gently touching her shoulder. He pulled her out of her thoughts offering her his beautiful smile. She stared at him thoughtfully for a moment. Daniel was a real sweetheart. Quiet and reserved, and very respectful. She had come to know the others quite well over the past few days, Charles, Ryan and Willie. They were talkative and playful, true extroverts. But Daniel was introverted, thoughtful and observant. They had a lot in common. She knew it would take more of an effort to pull him out of his shell, but she had a feeling it would be worth it. He intrigued her.
She shook her head and waved him off, still nursing her nausea. She knew she was dehydrated, and that didn’t help.
“At least sip a little water,” he urged, uncapping a fresh bottle and offering it to her.
She nodded and took the bottle from him, sipping down a few ounces then handed it back to him. They were down to their last ten bottles and she was getting worried.
“Good,” he praised, crouching down beside her, “you need to keep your strength up too. I was wondering, is it just me or does the sea seem to be calming down?”
She focused intently for a moment on the sway and motion of the plane. He might have been right. She shifted across the seats to look out the window. For the first time since the crash she was able to see their surroundings. The sky was clearing up in the distance and it was much brighter. The waves were still pitching against them, but it was definitely calming down. She was certain it was no longer raining.
She took in her surroundings, hoping to see proof of civilization. Another boat, a cargo ship, even a canoe would have made her feel better, but there was nothing. She slipped across the aisle to the opposite side of the plane, mindful not to disrupt Charles sleeping in the chair behind her. At first she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her and she blinked rapidly, shocked by what she saw.
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