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Authors: Vanessa Grant
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storm-tossed Cessna. Sometimes she spotted the dim outline of land, but there was so much they could not see. From the back, Bob kept urging Shane to land somewhere, anywhere. Cheryl whimpered once and turned to bury her head in Bob's shoulder.
They lost control without warning. The gust overtook them and Shane was twisted and pulled on controls, trying to shepherd a wildly careening ton of flying aluminum.
Abruptly, the grayness in front of the windshield was replaced by dark menace. She didn't remember the instant when they hit.
She regained consciousness slowly. When she felt the trembling of the airplane in the wind, she knew they were still in the air. She had been terrified for too long and she must have fallen asleep trying to escape the terror. She wished they would land soon.
Or crash.
She didn't want to open her eyes. She tried to will sleep, but she felt terribly alert. She felt the vibration from the wind and she fancied she could feel the cold wind on her skin.
Something was wrong. The wind should not whip on her body as if she were standing on a lonely cliff.
When she opened her eyes she saw the branches of a tree first—in front of her—not moving.
Then she saw Shane.
There was no doubt at all that he was dead. His open eyes stared at her lifelessly. His broken body spoke all too plainly of the damage it had suffered.
His image burned itself on the inside of her closed lids. She could not remember the crash itself, but they had crashed.
Slowly, she became aware that someone was crying.
"Cheryl," she whispered, but although the sobs continued, no answer came. Laurie twisted in her seat, trying not to see Shane's poor, broken body. Pain from her leg flared up and engulfed her in unconsciousness.
The next time she woke, a painful sensation of cold enveloped her. She did not dare to open her eyes. It was a long time before she realized that the sobs she heard were not all her own. When she stopped on a ragged breath, there was still the occasional sound of Cheryl crying.
"Cheryl?"
The sobs did not stop.
"Bob?" her voice asked hollowly, but there was no answer.
It was dark when she woke again. She sensed Shane's form beside her, but she could see it only in her mind's eye.
She was alone.
All her life she had been surrounded by family and friends who loved her. Even when she ran away, Bev had come. Laurie was the daredevil, and there was always someone willing to keep her company.
When the sky began to turn grey with the morning, Cheryl finally stopped sobbing. When Laurie called her name, the only reply was the wind howling through the wreckage.
Eventually the sun rose, throwing light into the interior of the plane. Shane's lifeless eyes stared accusingly at her. She reached out to touch his face, to close his eyes. He felt cold and she couldn't make herself touch his lids.
When she closed her own eyes, her brother's image persisted.
Twice she heard the sound of a plane in the distance.
It was a long time before the coiled microphone cord made an impression on her consciousness. When she finally made the connection between the microphone, the radio, and help, she reached for the microphone. Her fingers stopped a few inches short of it. She tried to twist, to reach farther, but the pain surged up from her leg and she lost consciousness again.
She drifted in and out of consciousness most of the day. It seemed to her that she was awake for much of the long, dark night that followed.
The wind stopped sometime in that second night and the world around her became as silent as death.
She was to blame for Shane's death... and for whatever had happened to Bob and Cheryl. It seemed only just that she, too, should die.
But her parents would be shattered by Shane's death. How much more terrible if both children were taken?
She had done more than enough damage. She could not cause extra grief to her parents by her own weakness. She could not move, could do nothing to keep warm or to increase her
They lost control without warning. The gust overtook them and Shane was twisted and pulled on controls, trying to shepherd a wildly careening ton of flying aluminum.
Abruptly, the grayness in front of the windshield was replaced by dark menace. She didn't remember the instant when they hit.
She regained consciousness slowly. When she felt the trembling of the airplane in the wind, she knew they were still in the air. She had been terrified for too long and she must have fallen asleep trying to escape the terror. She wished they would land soon.
Or crash.
She didn't want to open her eyes. She tried to will sleep, but she felt terribly alert. She felt the vibration from the wind and she fancied she could feel the cold wind on her skin.
Something was wrong. The wind should not whip on her body as if she were standing on a lonely cliff.
When she opened her eyes she saw the branches of a tree first—in front of her—not moving.
Then she saw Shane.
There was no doubt at all that he was dead. His open eyes stared at her lifelessly. His broken body spoke all too plainly of the damage it had suffered.
His image burned itself on the inside of her closed lids. She could not remember the crash itself, but they had crashed.
Slowly, she became aware that someone was crying.
"Cheryl," she whispered, but although the sobs continued, no answer came. Laurie twisted in her seat, trying not to see Shane's poor, broken body. Pain from her leg flared up and engulfed her in unconsciousness.
The next time she woke, a painful sensation of cold enveloped her. She did not dare to open her eyes. It was a long time before she realized that the sobs she heard were not all her own. When she stopped on a ragged breath, there was still the occasional sound of Cheryl crying.
"Cheryl?"
The sobs did not stop.
"Bob?" her voice asked hollowly, but there was no answer.
It was dark when she woke again. She sensed Shane's form beside her, but she could see it only in her mind's eye.
She was alone.
All her life she had been surrounded by family and friends who loved her. Even when she ran away, Bev had come. Laurie was the daredevil, and there was always someone willing to keep her company.
When the sky began to turn grey with the morning, Cheryl finally stopped sobbing. When Laurie called her name, the only reply was the wind howling through the wreckage.
Eventually the sun rose, throwing light into the interior of the plane. Shane's lifeless eyes stared accusingly at her. She reached out to touch his face, to close his eyes. He felt cold and she couldn't make herself touch his lids.
When she closed her own eyes, her brother's image persisted.
Twice she heard the sound of a plane in the distance.
It was a long time before the coiled microphone cord made an impression on her consciousness. When she finally made the connection between the microphone, the radio, and help, she reached for the microphone. Her fingers stopped a few inches short of it. She tried to twist, to reach farther, but the pain surged up from her leg and she lost consciousness again.
She drifted in and out of consciousness most of the day. It seemed to her that she was awake for much of the long, dark night that followed.
The wind stopped sometime in that second night and the world around her became as silent as death.
She was to blame for Shane's death... and for whatever had happened to Bob and Cheryl. It seemed only just that she, too, should die.
But her parents would be shattered by Shane's death. How much more terrible if both children were taken?
She had done more than enough damage. She could not cause extra grief to her parents by her own weakness. She could not move, could do nothing to keep warm or to increase her
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