Great. Another freaking complication. “How bad is that?”
“Real bad. You want it straight?”
“Let’s have it.”
“Without oil, the engine will lock up and quit. I’m surprised she hasn’t already—”
There was a sudden, sickly sputtering. It was happening. The engine was seizing up. Sam heard a horrified gasp from the rear seat, and then there was nothing but a terrible stillness. The engine was dead.
The plane drifted for a few seconds, and then Sam could feel it settling as it lost altitude on its descent through the cloud cover.
“I’ll try to glide us in for a safe landing, folks, but it’ll be a miracle if there’s a clearing down there. Better make sure your belts are tight before you fold yourselves into a crash position.”
Sam whirled around in his seat, barking a command at Eve. “Brace yourself! Head on your knees!”
But she knew the drill. Her head was already lowered, face hidden against her knees. Sam risked a quick glance through the window. They had broken through the cloud mass. The ground was coming up on them swiftly. There was nothing down there resembling a clearing, only the dense, unbroken forest.
Sam ducked down, straining against his belt to get his head on his knees. A few seconds later, they plowed into the forest. He could hear the undercarriage tearing apart as the plane, nose down, smashed through the limbs of the trees.
The action jerked him up, slamming his head against the window on his side. He felt a sharp, shooting pain, and then everything went black.
Chapter 2
For a full moment after the plane came to rest Eve was too shaken to move. Then slowly, carefully, she lifted her head from her knees. Dazed. She was so dazed she was imagining she was tipped over at a crazy angle. That had to be the explanation.
It was only when she struggled to sit up on the seat that she realized she was at a crazy angle. Or at least the plane was.
But as rough as the impact of crashing into the forest was, it had been softened somewhat by all the branches that had snatched at them on the way down. Must be the reason why, when she tested her own limbs, they seemed to work just fine. No other injuries she was aware of, either.
Shaking her head to clear it, Eve tried to see through the thick gloom of the cabin. It was hard to distinguish anything in the dim light of the forest and with the broken boughs of the evergreens plastered against the shattered windows on all sides.
She became conscious then of something else in the cabin. The awful silence. Sam McDonough, the pilot! Why wasn’t she hearing them? Why weren’t they stirring?
For another long, stunned moment she was too fearful of the answer to move. But she couldn’t go on sitting here like this. She had to know, had to help them. If it wasn’t too late. But she wouldn’t let herself believe that it was.
She made an effort to get to her feet, and couldn’t. The seat belt, of course. She was still tightly restrained by it. Her fingers were unsteady, but she managed to unbuckle the belt and stagger to her feet. With her sight adjusted now to the murky light, she immediately learned the worst when, supporting herself against the tilt of the plane, she leaned over the back of the pilot’s seat.
Ken Redfeather’s head was at an unnatural angle. The kind of angle that said his neck was broken. His eyes were open. And sightless. There was no question of it. The man was dead. Had Charlie looked like this after his own death? The possibility was so unbearable that Eve thrust the image out of her mind.
She willed herself not to start wailing in shock and sorrow. Sam McDonough needed her attention. She moved on to him. He was slumped against the passenger door. Cracks radiated in the glass of the window where his head rested, an indication he must have suffered a severe blow when his head struck the window.
No evidence of any blood, but she could detect a sizable lump already swelling on the side of his head. She prayed he was still alive.
His collar was open at his throat. Searching for a pulse, her hand brushed against the stubble on his jaw. She tried not to think how warm his skin was, how touching him like this felt both wrong and right at the same time.
Stop it. There’s nothing wrong or right about it. It’s simply a necessity in a bad situation.
To her relief, she located a pulse in his neck. It was strong and even—a confirmation that he was unconscious and not dead. But maybe injured internally, perhaps with a concussion, and needing medical care.
What should she do? What could she do?
There was the radio. Call out a Mayday? Impossible. Even if the radio was still working, she had no idea how to operate it. Besides, Ken Redfeather had said it was unreliable in the air and down here in the forest…
Eve had never felt so helpless, so close to outright panic. She gazed wildly around the tight cabin, as if looking for a miracle. There was no miracle. There was only another serious discovery. Through the window on the pilot’s side, she could see gas dripping down from the crumpled wing. And she could smell it through a gap in the glass. There was something else she could smell. Smoke!
Dear God, the plane must be on fire somewhere, and if the flames reached those wings where the fuel was stored—
You can’t go on standing here doing nothing.
She had to act, had to get both Sam and herself out of the plane before it went up like a firestorm. The door on the pilot’s side provided no exit. It was blocked by a heavy tree limb. It would have to be the passenger door.
Summoning what she hoped was a sufficient measure of strength and fortitude, Eve leaned over Sam as far as she could. It wasn’t easy getting a grip on those shoulders of his, not when they were so wide and hard as stone. But she somehow managed to lever him away from the door in slow degrees and finally to heave him over to the left.
She was puffing from exertion by then. Although the door latch was exposed now, she had to pause long enough to catch her breath. She used the opportunity to check on the fire. She could see the source of it now through the cracked windshield. Little wisps of smoke were curling up from the nose where the engine was located. No visible flames yet, but if she didn’t hurry—
Eve took up the battle again, straining to reach the latch. No good. The only way she could get at it was from the front. There was a narrow gap between the door and the passenger seat. Wedging herself in the opening, body twisting and squirming, she managed to squeeze through. The awkward effort cost her her balance, almost landing her in Sam’s lap.
Righting herself, she attacked the latch. The door was stuck. What if she couldn’t get it open? What if they were trapped in here?
She refused to accept that. This time she put her shoulder to it, shoving ferociously with an equally fierce curse of frustration. “Open up, damn you!”
The door popped wide with a suddenness that almost pitched her out into the snow. Recovering herself again, she realized that her purse was getting in the way, hindering her every move as it swayed like a pendulum from her shoulder. She tossed the bag out on the ground.
The action reminded her that she had to free Sam of his seat belt. Twisting herself around, she groped for the catch on the belt. Her fumbling fingers couldn’t avoid coming in contact with his waist. Again she experienced that sensation of firm, warm flesh, of something intimate and forbidden just beneath the fabric of his shirt. It was a giddy pleasure that made her want to—
The catch snapped open, releasing Sam. Backing quickly away from him, Eve lowered herself to the ground, leaned into the opening and caught him by the ankles.