“Jack?” She crawled from under the branches into a small clearing circled by pines.
He lay curled beside the smoldering fire with only a sweater to keep him warm. He would have been warmer under the hemlock, but he’d endured the elements to give her privacy and respect. Tears rose to her eyes. She thought he’d walked off in anger, but instead he’d offered love. Undeserved love.
She crawled on three limbs, dragging the useless right leg, and laid his jacket over him. Then she added her canvas coat.
“Sleep,” she whispered.
He murmured but didn’t wake.
“I’ll find help.” It would be tough, but she could do it.
First she needed a crutch. A nearby stick proved solid enough and the right length. Next she needed the map and compass. Through the trees, she saw the extent of the crash. The wings had folded back, one stuck high in a tree, the other smashed to bits on the ground. The front of the fuselage had caved in. Amazing she’d survived. One of the motors lay in pieces on the ground. Bits of wreckage and supplies were scattered over the area: fuel cans, oil cans, wood framing, half a sandwich, a vacuum bottle, the match canister.
The map had shown a mining settlement on the Lake Superior coast. She recalled thinking they’d passed over it in the fog. That meant they should be due north. Not that far. No more than a few miles. The map would tell her. She redoubled her search and finally located her clipboard, including the map, wedged under the teetering remnants of the left wing.
She couldn’t pull the clipboard free, but by gently tugging and working at it, she got the map out, mostly in one piece. Next she needed the compass, but she couldn’t find that anywhere.
Darcy’s head ached, and her riding breeches were soaked through. Though winter’s snow had melted in most places, the ground was still damp and terribly cold. She shivered, and her stomach growled.
She picked up the sandwich, which had come out of its paper wrapping and was covered with dirt and needles. No matter how unappetizing, it was food. She brushed off as much debris as she could and took a bite. Gritty and soggy, and it tasted like fuel.
She spat it out and looked for something to drink. The vacuum bottle’s contents swished when she shook it, but the stopper was jammed. She resorted to snow. The spring melt had turned winter’s flakes to granular ice, loose and easy to scoop up. She shoved a handful in her mouth and let it melt down her parched throat.
Her last mark on the map showed them just past the shoreline. When had she taken that reading? How much time between that and the engines dying? Fifteen minutes? It couldn’t have been more. The way Jack took the plane down in s-turns, they might be within a mile of the mine. Even with a gimpy leg, she could walk that far.
“I’m bringing help, Jack,” she whispered. “By the time you wake, we’ll be safe.”
The daylight seemed dimmer than it ought to be. The pines and hemlocks blocked a lot of light, but the sky also looked thick with clouds.
If she could find the sun, no matter how weak, she could fix her direction. She scanned the sky until she saw a faintly lighter spot through the trees. That was east. Now she needed to determine north from south. The trees would tell her. She checked for moss and lichens, which grew more thickly on the north side.
Now certain of her direction, she set off due south. A wall of white pines blocked the way. She went around them and resumed course on the other side. She limped forward on her crutch, picking her way over the uneven terrain. Every step hurt, but knowing she would earn Jack’s respect eased the pain.
Soon she reached a narrow creek. On any other day, she’d merely hop across, but her knee couldn’t stand the impact. The map proved useless. Its scale didn’t show minor features like creeks. To the left, the creek burbled over small rock steps. To the right, an ancient pine shaded the stream. One thick limb had split off and lay across the stream, forming a bridge. She tested it. Solid. But less than a foot’s length wide. If she fell, her injury would get worse, and she’d be soaked in icy water. But she had to get across. She edged over sideways, bit by bit, until she reached the other side.
Her triumph was short-lived. Something cold and damp hit her face. Then another and another and another. Rain. No, snow. The fat white flakes came quicker and quicker until the air filled with them.