Chapter Two #2
Brian blinked. The passenger was talking. He tried to focus, staggering in the gusting wind. Rain streamed from Troy’s brown hair and over his tanned face. His teeth were very white and straight, and wait, he was still talking. Brian shouted, “What?”
Then he was flying, actually lifted off his feet. The air slammed from his lungs as he hit the sand, tasting grit and blinking it from his eyes. He threw out his hands, grabbing hold of Troy’s bare foot.
They clutched each other and the suitcase, crawling. “It’s getting worse! Holy fuck!” Troy yelled. With shaking hands, he nudged Brian along. “Over there?” He jutted his chin toward the base of the cliff. Hyperventilating, his chest rose and fell rapidly.
Brian nodded, which sent a fresh knife of pain through his skull.
They needed shelter against something solid, or surviving the crash would be moot.
With the emergency pack and suitcase, they crawled along the tree line and then beyond it into the jungle, hoping it would be safer away from the shore.
Sticking close to the jutting cliff that apparently extended across the end of the island, they found a little cave where the rock seemed to be cleaved in two.
The cave barely covered their heads, but they were able to jam themselves and their cargo into the crevasse.
Knees to their chests, they huddled together.
Troy trembled, his teeth chattering. The uneven stone ground dug into Brian’s ass, and Troy’s elbow was jammed against his ribs.
But his passenger was alive, and Brian closed his eyes, bone-deep grateful that he hadn’t failed in that, at least.
As the wind grew from a howl to a scream, they both shivered. He heard Troy muttering a prayer over and over, and hoped it would be enough for both of them.
Jolting awake, Troy jerked his head from his knees. He blinked at a world of green—nearby trees and vegetation. A jungle.
The memories stormed back, explaining why he was hideously uncomfortable and more tired than he’d ever imagined he could be.
Why he ached, starving and soaked, wedged next to a stranger in an opening in a rock wall.
His sodden sweatpants clung to him, and he pulled at the damp cotton of his T-shirt.
Thirsty. Fuck, so thirsty. He reached beneath his collar for the plastic water bottle he’d shoved down his shirt to keep it from being blown away. After gulping down the rest, he realized it had not only stopped storming—it had stopped raining too.
It was quiet.
After the relentless howl of the storm, the relative stillness was eerie.
Water dripped from leaves. Birds chirped.
Beyond the bent and ragged tops of the palms and leafy trees he couldn’t identify, the sun was a diffuse light low in the sky behind a wall of steel cloud.
But the terrible darkness seemed to have passed. The storm was over.
Troy turned to Brian beside him, their arms sweaty where they were squashed together. “Hey—”
Heart plummeting, he inhaled a jagged breath, scrambling out of their little hidey hole. God. Please no. Mind reeling, he stared at Brian’s open hazel eyes and the vacant expression locked on his face.
Fuck, he can’t be dead. He can’t be dead! Don’t leave me alone!
“Dude, are you okay?” His voice scraped out of his raw throat. “Brian?” He touched his trembling fingers to Brian’s bare forearm. His skin was cold and clammy, and he didn’t move. “Brian?” This time he shook Brian’s arm, expecting him to topple over stiffly, his eyes still wide.
Slowly, Brian blinked and turned his head. He didn’t seem to actually register Troy, but he was alive. Brian ran a hand over his short brown hair, wincing. Thank fuck. For a minute, Troy simply breathed in and out to calm his racing pulse. He cleared his throat. “Brian? You okay, man?”
It was a stupid question, because no, Brian was clearly light years from okay.
He was in shock, and the bruise on his forehead had deepened to a purplish red.
Shit. Troy couldn’t handle this. He needed Joe and Lara and the minions to tell him what to do and how to do it.
He wanted to squeeze back into the crevasse and close his eyes until this was all fixed.
Time to man up.
After a few deep breaths, he prodded at Brian’s limbs.
He didn’t think there were any major injuries.
Troy ached all over but didn’t seem to have any big injuries either.
Poking through the backpack, he found a shiny square that unfolded into an emergency blanket.
He tucked it over Brian. “I’m going to check things out, okay? I’ll be back soon.”
Brian barely blinked. Shit, maybe Troy shouldn’t leave him, but he had to see what was left.
They’d need as many supplies as they could get from the wreckage.
They’d need to…what? He racked his brain, taking far too long to come up with building a fire so rescuers could see them.
And getting warm would be awesome too. Even though the temperature had to be seventy degrees, the rain had been icy, and Troy had shivered for hours.
He hoped the sun would make it out from behind the clouds before it got dark.
Gingerly, he picked his way along the side of the cliff face back to the beach, wishing he’d thought to grab his shoes after the crash. But he hadn’t been thinking of anything aside from getting out alive.
Sticks and rocks and whatever else covered the jungle floor scratched his bare feet, and his mind raced through all the possibilities for snakes and spiders and whatever the hell else lived on tropical islands.
Each step was a victory, and it was glorious to have the sand between his toes again, even though it was wet and clumpy.
The palms lining the beach listed wildly, but most still stood.
Fronds, plants, and small trees littered the sand and entrance to the jungle.
Troy’s legs burned as he picked his way around the base of the cliff, his whole body bruised.
The ocean was calmer, powerful waves rolling in, but no longer violent.
Although there was still a gray cast to the world, it seemed the immediate danger was gone.
And so was the plane.
Staring, Troy bunched his toes in the damp sand, willing the battered plane to appear again at the base of the cliff.
But it had vanished, swallowed by the sea.
He stared at the sand narrowing to a collection of black rocks, and up at the stone wall, swallowing thickly.
Brian had said the other pilot was dead, and if there had been anything left of her, it was gone now.
The cliff face had been washed clean, and the pieces of sheared metal and debris left amid the rocks at the base didn’t seem like much. Most had apparently been swept away. The murmur of the waves and a bird’s distant cry filled the air.
He bent in two, his knees hitting wet sand as a sob choked him.
He wanted to go home—he wanted to go anywhere that wasn’t…
this emptiness. Turning left and right, Troy searched for any signs of life.
Did anyone live on this island? Was anyone going to help them?
Surely they would have seen the plane go down, even in the swirling storm?
“Hello?” His shout was swallowed by the heavy sand and growing humidity in the air. “Hello? Hello?” Terror clawed his throat as he stared at the empty horizon.
Breath coming in quick bursts, Troy tore back across the sand and into the jungle, not caring about the scratches and jabs to his feet. On his knees again by the crevasse, he panted. Brian was exactly where he’d left him, eyes still open and unseeing.
“Brian!” Troy yanked off the silver blanket and gripped Brian’s shoulders, the black and gold stripe decorations of his pilot’s uniform digging into Troy’s palms. “You need to snap out of it. I know you probably have a concussion or something, but talk to me. Say something. Please.” He needlessly added, “I’m freaking out. ”
Brian barely blinked.
Swallowing the urge to scream in his face and shake him, Troy took a deep breath. “Dude, look at me. Can you hear me? Please. I need your help. Help me. Help!”
As if a light had flicked on, Brian’s focus snapped to Troy. “So much smoke. Get out. The fire’s coming. Get out!”
Whoa. Sitting back on his heels, Troy smoothed out his grip, awkwardly petting Brian now. “It’s okay. There’s no fire. We’re fine. We’re safe.”
Brian closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Have to get everyone out.”
“We’re out. It’s okay. Just rest.”
He closed his eyes, muttering something Troy couldn’t make out.
With a sigh, Troy tried to make himself comfortable. He drank more water and settled in. Listening to Brian breathe as the day faded, he whispered another prayer.
“Hello?”
Amid the buzzing insects and the jungle’s chirps and mysterious exhalations, Brian’s voice was like a gunshot.
Troy yanked his head up and tried to smile even though it was pitch black.
“People can hear the smile in your voice.” His father’s baritone echoed through his mind. Troy said, “It’s okay. I’m here.”
“Where? Who?” Brian was rigid.
“Um, it’s Troy Tanner? I was your passenger on the plane.
We crashed on an island this morning. I know, it’s crazy dark now.
Still cloudy, I guess.” He’d wanted to examine the emergency pack to see if there was a flashlight, but he’d left it out of reach on Brian’s other side and he’d been too afraid to venture out even a few feet.
Afraid of what jungle creature his outstretched hands might encounter.
“How do you feel?” Troy asked. “You need to drink some water. Here.” He felt for the full bottle at his hip and pressed it gently into Brian’s hand. “Can you hold it? Let me take the top off.”
Troy listened to Brian swallowing. He hoped the concussion was mild and tried to remember how it was supposed to be treated. He’d once seen a football movie where the hurt player had been asked memory questions. “What’s your name?”
“Brian Sinclair.”