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
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
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