Zzzt. Linen tore, and the plane lurched. They hadn’t reached the ground. He saw only framing and branches, not the forest floor.
Then he smelled gasoline. Just like the crash in Pearlman. Only this time he carried ten times the fuel. At any second the whole plane could explode.
He needed to get Darcy out.
He called for her.
No response.
He hoisted himself up, gingerly balancing on the front edge of his cockpit, and pulled aside branch after branch until he got to her. She lay curled in a ball to the left side of the cockpit. What remained of it. A gaping hole breached the right side. The front amounted to a mangled pile of broken wood and canvas.
The wreck shifted, and he grabbed onto a branch to steady himself. They could crash to the ground at any moment. He had to get her out.
“Darcy?” He shook her gently.
She muttered something unintelligible.
Relief rushed in, then abruptly out. Was that a spark? He held his breath while they teetered precariously. Another blue flash. Definitely a spark. No time. No time.
He pushed on the branches above her. A four-inch-diameter limb crossed the cockpit, pinning her beneath it. He yanked. He pulled. The plane shifted with an eerie creak. He had no idea how far up they were. A twenty-foot freefall could flip the wreck, crushing them. If they miraculously fell free, the impact could knock them out, and the ensuing fire would incinerate them.
He stood dead still, wondering how on earth he was going to get Darcy out without unbalancing the wreck.
Another spark. No time to be delicate. He climbed onto a hefty branch that had speared through the fuselage. Balancing like a tightrope artist, he pushed up on the limb pinning Darcy, while reaching under her with the other arm. The plane shifted a couple of inches. He dropped the limb and hung on until, with an ominous groan, the wreckage settled.
He held his breath and began again. This time, when he pulled, the wreck stayed in place. So did Darcy. No matter what he did, she wouldn’t budge.
“Darcy, wake up,” he barked, lightly slapping her cheeks.
She murmured unintelligibly.
“Wake up,” he demanded, hoping the tone would rouse her.
“Where?” Her voice was thick, groggy.
“Can you move?”
Her hands flailed, finding only air. “Belt.”
He had no idea what she meant. “I need you to move toward me. Let me know if any part of you is stuck.”
“Belt,” she repeated with greater agitation. “Can’t.”
Jack snapped with frustration. “You need to help me.” The gasoline smell had increased. One spark, one flash of metal on stone, would send the plane up in a fireball.
“Be-elt,” she wailed, and he finally understood.
What an idiot he’d been. The seat belt.
He leaned as far as he could, searching through the rubble for the belt. At last. He undid it and then lifted her.
“Ow!” she yelped. “My leg.”
“Is it stuck?” He hoped she’d say no.
“I—I don’t know.”
“Listen carefully. We need to get you out of here before the plane catches fire.”
“I can do it,” she said, though with a groggy edge. “I should have done it.”
He heard a sob. No, not tears. They didn’t have time for tears.
He put her arm around his neck. “Hold on. I’m going to lift.”
She held on only a moment. He’d have to do this himself. He lifted, and this time when she screamed he ignored her pain and pulled with all his strength.
“Stop, stop,” she yelled much more lucidly. “Let me go. You’ll kill me.”
“Better me than a fire.” He yanked. He tugged. He pulled.
Between her screams and the hum in his ears, he didn’t hear her come free of the wreckage, but he felt it. The sudden release sent him backwards.
He caught his balance, crashing awkwardly against the fuselage. His lower back hit the edge of the cockpit, sending a jolt of pain up his spine. But he didn’t let go of Darcy. He choked back the pain and got to his knees. Do this. Get her to safety. Mustering his remaining strength, he rose to his feet, Darcy in his arms.
The whole wreck began to tilt. It was going down. He didn’t think. He skittered downward through the tangle of limbs and branches. The twigs scratched and clawed at them. He seemed to step on air half the time. Then with a crack, the plane pitched forward a few feet, and Jack slammed into the ground with Darcy beneath him. Pain shivered up his arms to the elbows. A twinge shot through his shoulder. Darcy stifled a yelp.
“You all right?” But he couldn’t wait for an answer. The plane had only shifted. He had to get her away from the wreck before it fell the rest of the way.
He picked her up and carried her through gloom and trees and snow and mud until, far enough from the plane for safety, they reached a patch of open ground. Gasping, shaking and exhausted, he dropped to his knees, Darcy still cradled in his arms. The damp earth soaked through to the bone. Icy mist prickled his skin.