Brace For Impact. Janice Kay Johnson

time during the descent he paused several times to scan the forest with his binoculars. Raw wood caught his eye, where it appeared the tops of trees had been sheared off. Yes.

      From there, he calculated the route he’d take from Maddy’s hiding place. He wished she was farther from the crash site, but still believed her hiding spot to be nearly ideal.

      When he reached the rocks, he got hit by a jolt of alarm. What he could see of her face was slack, colorless but for the bruises that seemed muted in color since he left her. Was her head injury worse than he’d thought, and she’d lapsed into unconsciousness?

      But then she let out a heavy sigh and crinkled her nose. She shifted a little as if seeking a more comfortable position.

      Asleep. She was only asleep, and no wonder after multiple traumas.

      She awakened immediately when he touched her, her instinct to shrink from him.

      “You all right?”

      After a tiny hesitation, she said, “I think so.”

      “Good. I’m leaving my pack here and going to the crash site after I cut some fir branches to cover the opening. Unless you need to, uh, use the facilities...”

      She blinked several times before she understood. “No. I’m fine.”

      “All right. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

      Her hand closed on his forearm. “You won’t call for help? Or...or let anyone see you?”

      “No. I promise.” He didn’t know what else he could say. It was hard to believe anyone else would show up at the site but another hiker or climber who, like him, had seen the crash and come to help.

      Relieved to be unburdened by the pack, Will sliced off a few branches to disguise the opening in the rocks, then left her. He kept to a horizontal path as much as he could. He hoped the crunch of his boots on the rocky pitch wasn’t as loud as it seemed to him. When he paused to listen, all he heard was the distant ripple of one of the streams plunging toward the valley, a soft sough of wind and a few birdcalls.

      He’d reached the first trees torn by metal, had seen a white scrap that could be from any part of the plane, when he heard the distinctive sound of an approaching helicopter.