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Authors: Linda Howard
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followed the bags. As she crawled out, her gaze fell on the vinyl floor cover in front of both the pilot’s and copilot’s seats. Taking Justice’s knife from the vest pocket, she opened it and went to work.
He was lying deathly still, his eyes still closed. The pads covering his forehead were soaked through with blood.
“I’m back,” she said, putting the piece of vinyl down beside him and kneeling on it; getting dry had been important, but staying dry ranked right up there with it. “I brought clothes to cover you with, as soon as I can get the bleeding stopped and get you out of these bloody clothes.”
“Okay,” he murmured.
Thank God, he hadn’t lost consciousness again, but his voice was weaker. Taking two more sterile pads from the first-aid kit’s supply, she placed them over the bloody ones, and pressed down. This time she stayed in position, talking to him the whole time, telling him everything she’d done and why she’d done it. If he disagreed with anything he could speak up, but he remained silent.
She hadn’t thought to time how long she’d been maintaining pressure, but the third time she lifted the edge of the pads to check, the bleeding had slowed dramatically. She pressed down once more, held the pressure for about five minutes, then checked again. No new trickle of blood welled from the ugly gash.
“I think that’s done the trick,” she breathed. “Finally.”
The next step was to wash any dirt and debris from the cut, but for that she needed water. She’d put a bottle of water in her tote bag, wherever it was. It had to be around here somewhere. It had probably gone out of the plane when the left wing snapped off, so if she located the missing wing, the tote bag should be between the wing and the rest of the plane.
“I’m going to look for some water,” she told him.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
No, he wasn’t; she doubted he’d be able to stand on his own.
Standing, she began examining the area immediately around the plane. When she didn’t spot the tote bag, she followed upward, with her gaze, the path the plane had taken, marked with broken and splintered trees and limbs.
Her eyes widened. The mountains loomed around her, silent and shrouded with snow. The only sound was the occasional sighing of the wind in the trees. No leaves rustled, no birds sang.
The mountains were immense, looming high above her on all sides, so tall they would soon block the afternoon sun. Slowly, disbelieving, she turned in a circle. There was nothing but mountains, and more mountains, as far as she could see. They spread out below, massive bases that were veiled by gray clouds. Deep, incredibly rugged folds in the earth created black shadows where sunshine seldom touched. The plane was nothing more than a dot on the steep mountainside, already half-covered by the limbs of the trees into which they had crashed, and those black shadows were spreading toward it.
She felt dwarfed, insignificant to the point of nothingness. She and Justice
were
nothing, she realized. They were completely, totally insignificant to these mountains. Any rescue could conceivably take days to reach them. They were alone.
7
B AILEY LOOKED FOR THE TOTE FOR AS LONG AS SHE COULD without exhausting herself, but an extensive search would have involved climbing up the steep, sometimes vertical mountainside, and she simply wasn’t capable of that. Finally giving up, she slowly made her way back to Justice. He looked dreadful, she thought, and it wasn’t just the blood; he was lying so still, as if life were seeping out of him even though she’d gotten the bleeding stopped. What blood loss hadn’t accomplished on its own, cold and shock were finishing. The bottom dropped out of her stomach at the thought. “Justice, are you awake?”
He made an “um” sound in his throat.
“I can’t find the bottle of water I brought. There’s snow, but I don’t have any way to make a fire to boil it. If I sew up this cut
He was lying deathly still, his eyes still closed. The pads covering his forehead were soaked through with blood.
“I’m back,” she said, putting the piece of vinyl down beside him and kneeling on it; getting dry had been important, but staying dry ranked right up there with it. “I brought clothes to cover you with, as soon as I can get the bleeding stopped and get you out of these bloody clothes.”
“Okay,” he murmured.
Thank God, he hadn’t lost consciousness again, but his voice was weaker. Taking two more sterile pads from the first-aid kit’s supply, she placed them over the bloody ones, and pressed down. This time she stayed in position, talking to him the whole time, telling him everything she’d done and why she’d done it. If he disagreed with anything he could speak up, but he remained silent.
She hadn’t thought to time how long she’d been maintaining pressure, but the third time she lifted the edge of the pads to check, the bleeding had slowed dramatically. She pressed down once more, held the pressure for about five minutes, then checked again. No new trickle of blood welled from the ugly gash.
“I think that’s done the trick,” she breathed. “Finally.”
The next step was to wash any dirt and debris from the cut, but for that she needed water. She’d put a bottle of water in her tote bag, wherever it was. It had to be around here somewhere. It had probably gone out of the plane when the left wing snapped off, so if she located the missing wing, the tote bag should be between the wing and the rest of the plane.
“I’m going to look for some water,” she told him.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
No, he wasn’t; she doubted he’d be able to stand on his own.
Standing, she began examining the area immediately around the plane. When she didn’t spot the tote bag, she followed upward, with her gaze, the path the plane had taken, marked with broken and splintered trees and limbs.
Her eyes widened. The mountains loomed around her, silent and shrouded with snow. The only sound was the occasional sighing of the wind in the trees. No leaves rustled, no birds sang.
The mountains were immense, looming high above her on all sides, so tall they would soon block the afternoon sun. Slowly, disbelieving, she turned in a circle. There was nothing but mountains, and more mountains, as far as she could see. They spread out below, massive bases that were veiled by gray clouds. Deep, incredibly rugged folds in the earth created black shadows where sunshine seldom touched. The plane was nothing more than a dot on the steep mountainside, already half-covered by the limbs of the trees into which they had crashed, and those black shadows were spreading toward it.
She felt dwarfed, insignificant to the point of nothingness. She and Justice
were
nothing, she realized. They were completely, totally insignificant to these mountains. Any rescue could conceivably take days to reach them. They were alone.
7
B AILEY LOOKED FOR THE TOTE FOR AS LONG AS SHE COULD without exhausting herself, but an extensive search would have involved climbing up the steep, sometimes vertical mountainside, and she simply wasn’t capable of that. Finally giving up, she slowly made her way back to Justice. He looked dreadful, she thought, and it wasn’t just the blood; he was lying so still, as if life were seeping out of him even though she’d gotten the bleeding stopped. What blood loss hadn’t accomplished on its own, cold and shock were finishing. The bottom dropped out of her stomach at the thought. “Justice, are you awake?”
He made an “um” sound in his throat.
“I can’t find the bottle of water I brought. There’s snow, but I don’t have any way to make a fire to boil it. If I sew up this cut
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