Desolate The Complete Trilogy

7



I didn’t get much sleep that night. Between the rock-hard bench, the sweltering heat, and the constant harassment from mosquitos, it was a miserable night, to say the least. I must have dozed off shortly after sundown, but a nightmare woke me and I was pretty much awake after that.

When it was light enough to see, I had breakfast of an apple juice and a graham cracker packet. I was tempted to eat everything in my little stash, but I knew it was probably a good idea to ration it. I popped a couple of ibuprofens for my wound and exited the plane to stretch my legs a little and take a pee.

I have to admit, by this time I was starting to feel anxious. I kept thinking of a hunters’ safety video I watched when I was eleven years old. The one thing I remembered was the most important piece of advice the fat guy in the blaze orange told me. Stay put if you get lost. If you remain in the same spot you’ll have a better chance of the search party finding you.

The only problem was I was beginning to wonder if I even had a search party looking for me. If the crash site was close to a town, I would’ve expected some curious people to have found me by now. The smoldering jet engine wasn’t producing much smoke now, but right after the crash, it should have been visible for miles. Easy enough signal to follow.

And what about the flight path? I have no idea why we crashed, but unless we went way off course, I’d think it would be easy enough for the eggheads in charge of such things to figure out where we crashed. They could at least ballpark it.

I’d been keeping an ear out and hadn’t heard the slightest hint of a plane or helicopter. I didn’t want to admit it then, but I also noticed I hadn’t seen any jet trails from commercial flights in the sky at all. Not one. Since it didn’t have anything to do with my immediate situation, I tried to ignore it.

So, on one hand, I wanted to listen to the fat guy in blaze orange, but I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling of not knowing what was beyond the trees. What if a road was only thirty feet away? What if the only thing between an umbrella-laced drink at a beachside bar and me was a twenty-minute walk? Dammit, Google Earth, where are you when I need you?

I walked the perimeter of the clearing, keeping as much distance from the stretcher-covered woman as I could. The only thing I saw through the trees were more trees. The sun cleared the treetops and the morning was turning out to be especially miserable. Already sweating profusely, I made my way back to the plane to get some shade and pick through the wreckage again. I didn’t expect to find anything new but I needed to do something to keep my mind occupied.

God I needed a drink.

I checked and rechecked drawers, cabinets, and containers. I was convinced I missed a bottle. I would have been happy with one of those tiny airplane bottles full of Schnapps. I was on a goddamn airplane! Where was the booze?

Lucky me. My first flight in years and instead of a commercial liner with a drink tray, all I’ve got is a pile of useless IV bags that’ll only make me more thirsty and probably give me the shits. It’s just as well. I was feeling pretty vulnerable at the moment and if I did find some hooch, I probably would have given in to temptation. Nothing like a plane crash to get you off the wagon. Or is it on the wagon? I never could get that stupid expression straight. I reminded myself that the root cause of all this mess was my alcoholism, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

I sat down on the bench and ripped the lid off one of my apple juices, slamming it in one gulp and not caring. I crumpled the cup, tossed it across the plane, and put my head in my hands. I felt like I was going crazy.

When I caught a whiff of the rotting mess in the cockpit, I knew enough was enough. My decision was made. Even though I had no idea what was out there, and I had a good chance of getting even more lost, I was tired of sitting around feeling sorry for myself. Time to leave.

I spent the rest of the day gathering anything that might be remotely useful and preparing for my journey. Despite the weakness from not enough food, the ache in my gut, and the sweltering heat, it felt good to have a goal. Good to be doing something. Anything. One more night in the plane. I’d be out of there the second dawn broke.