November 2011
The water was freezing, shocking the air from my lungs as we started the frantic swim for shore. At least I thought the shore was this way. The fog wasn’t exactly doing us any favors, and neither was the current, dragging us downstream with the rest of the passengers as we fought our way toward the bank.
The reactions around us varied from stoic to downright hysterical, and I did what always worked for me when shit went down—narrowed my focus to one goal. Right now, that goal was keeping Isabeau alive.
“You okay?” I asked Izzy, only losing sight of her between the waves of the Missouri as the plane submerged fully behind us, a rush of air bubbling up from the fuselage.
Holy shit, that just happened.
“Never swam in shoes before,” she answered with a teeth-chattering grunt and more of a grimace than a smile.
“It’s a day for firsts.” I swam closer to her, my heart thundering as we fought for every foot against the current.
Off in the distance, I heard someone cry for help, and another passenger answered. Hopefully the rafts could pick up more of us, especially the ones who couldn’t swim, but I was grateful that the people around us all seemed to be forging forward.
Some of my panic eased when the shore came into view through the fog, dense with trees. “It’s right there,” I told Izzy, keeping up with her, stroke for steady stroke.
“Thank God.” Her face contorted and she gasped, but she kept pushing forward.
“What’s wrong?” My chest tightened as the vision in my left eye went red and blurry. A quick swipe of my forehead came away bloody. Awesome.
“Other than the whole plane-crash scenario?” She forced a sarcastic, staccato smile through the shivers. “I’m okay, just some pain in my ribs. I’m sure it’s nothing. You’re the one bleeding.”
And she was the one with the blown pupils. I’d been knocked around enough to know the signs of a concussion.
“The blood is probably just bluster. Let’s get you to shore.” My stomach twisted, and I got that sinking feeling that sometimes came over me, the one that told me to pay attention, that there was more to whatever was happening on the surface of any given situation. I’d always had good instincts. They were the only reason I’d survived nineteen years under my father’s roof.
Ahead of us, a few of the passengers dragged others up the bank to safety. The father and son were upstream, almost there now, but I couldn’t see the mother and baby.
Just focus on Izzy.
My feet found purchase on the rocky bank, and I immediately swept my arm across Izzy’s back, pulling her against me until she could reach the bottom. It was an act of God that we’d found a portion of the river with a sloped shore. Then again, just about everything about today was miraculous.
Careful of her ribs, I pulled us up the embankment, and then the two-foot rise to the wooded area. Where the hell were we?
“Help!” a kid screamed from behind us.
I looked over my shoulder to see one of the women rushing forward from shore to pull a kid in an inflatable yellow life jacket.
“Thank you.” Izzy shot me a watery smile as I sat her at the base of the nearest tree. “I can help,” she argued, her hand cradling the left side of her rib cage.
I hit my knees beside her, praying the bluish tinge to her lips was just cold. “Can I see?” I asked, reaching for her vest.
She nodded, water droplets streaming down her face as her head fell back against the tree.
With numb fingers, I somehow managed to unzip her vest and lift the side of her shirt. Then I muttered a curse. “There’s no blood, but it’s a hell of a contusion. I wouldn’t be surprised if you broke the ribs.”
“That would explain the pain. I think I did something to my shoulder too.” She brushed her hand over my forehead and into my hair. “You have a nasty cut just beneath your hairline.”
“That’s okay. It will just increase my appeal. Chicks dig scars, you know.” I studied her blown pupils, which were consuming way too much of those beautiful brown eyes.
“Help!” someone else shouted.
Izzy lurched forward.
“Nope. You stay right here.” I leveled my best stare on her. “I mean it. Right. Here. I’ll be right back.”
“Just . . . don’t die.” She fell back against the tree.
“Not planning on it.” I jumped down the bank and started helping pull others up, and I couldn’t help but sigh in absolute relief when the mom and baby made it to shore. It took all of ten minutes to get everyone out of the water, with the exception of the rafts that had floated farther downstream.
By the time I made my way through the stumbling, crying crowd of passengers and got back to Izzy, my muscles shook with cold and the aftereffects of the adrenaline.
“See?” She lifted her right hand and gifted me with a wan, shivering smile. “Still right where you left me.”
“Good. I’m not in any condition to chase you.” I sat down beside her and pulled her under my arm, tucking her uninjured side against me. The visibility was improving, and I could even see halfway across the river now. “Let’s get you warm.”
“We survived a plane crash.” She leaned in, resting her head in that sweet spot right above my heart.
The beat of my pulse changed, slowing, steadying.
“We survived a plane crash,” I repeated, cupping the side of her face with my hand and bending my head toward hers. “Now all we have to do is wait for rescue.”
“We can’t be that far from the airport. They’ll be here soon.”
“Yeah.” Other passengers sat down near us, all in various states of shock from crying softly, to crying loudly, to . . . not crying at all, just staring straight ahead.
“Just think. If this was a book, we’d be in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness, or the lone survivors, forced to share an abandoned cabin.”
A laugh rumbled up through my chest, despite . . . well, everything. “Don’t forget, it would be conveniently stocked with all the supplies we’d need.”
What the hell was wrong with me? I’d just taken my first plane ride and survived my first plane crash, and yet here I was, making jokes with a woman I’d just met, curled up with her like we’d known each other for years.
She snorted when she laughed, which made me grin, but then she tensed, and my smile faded. “I don’t . . . I don’t feel well.”
I dropped my hand from her face to her neck, finding her pulse, and my brow furrowed. It was going a mile a minute. Not that I had any clue what to do with that knowledge, but I figured it couldn’t be good, not with the pale skin, concussion, and general plane-crash issues. “Just hold steady. They’ll be here any minute.” Sirens sounded in the distance. “See? I bet that’s them. Let’s just hope there’s a road around here.”
“Are you tired?” she asked, leaning into me. “I’m just really tired.”
“You need to stay awake.” Fear dripped down my spine, colder than my soaked clothing. What were more of those icebreaker-question things? I had to keep her talking. “If you had to choose between popcorn and M&M’s, which would it be?”