Chapter Two #3
“And what do you do?”
“I’m a pilot.”
“Okay, good. Where do you live?”
“Sydney.”
Troy assumed that was true. He urged the bottle back to Brian’s lips, wishing he could see. “Uh, who’s the president of the United States?”
“Barack Obama. Not for much longer. Too bad about term limits.”
Troy smiled. “Yeah. Not loving the other options.” At least Brian sounded more awake and with it. “Drink a bit more. Does your head hurt?”
“Doesn’t tickle.” He was silent a moment. “The rain stopped.” He brushed against Troy as he sat up straighter. “We need to get back to the plane.”
“We can’t. It’s okay, just rest.”
“How long has it been?” Brian’s voice was clearer, and it seemed the fog was definitely lifting, thank God. “It’s so dark.”
“I’m not sure. I’m hoping it’s at least midnight. Been dark for a long time.” The night felt like a living thing, keeping them prisoner in the jungle. Troy longed for sunrise. “Is there any food in the emergency pack?”
“Yes. But we need to check the plane first.”
Troy sighed. “It’s gone.”
There were a few heartbeats of silence. “What is?”
“The plane. The storm got worse after we got off the beach. Must have washed it away. I went out and checked earlier.” Troy listened to the hum of insects, waiting for Brian to say something else. Finally, Troy asked, “Do you think anyone lives here?”
More silence. A mosquito buzzed near his ear, and Troy slapped at it. “Brian? Are you still awake?”
“Yes, sorry.” It sounded like Brian took another swig of water, his arm brushing Troy’s as he swallowed. “We’ll make sure, but no. I don’t think anyone lives here.”
Acid bubbled in Troy’s belly. “How do you know?”
“We changed course for Kiritimati. Christmas Island is another name for it. There’s an airport there. We’re west of it. At least a thousand miles.”
“A thousand miles?” He couldn’t even visualize how far that was. Blood rushing in his ears, Troy willed himself to wake up safe in his bed. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. “But…but there are other islands, right?”
“Phoenix islands to the west are closest. Six, seven hundred miles. Atolls and coral reefs. Uninhabited, I think. This whole area is.”
Troy dug his fingernails into his palms to keep from screaming or crying or both. “We’re just out here all alone?”
“Dumb luck to find this island. We’d be dead otherwise.” He shuddered, his shoulder trembling. “Not just her.”
Troy didn’t know what to say to that. He hadn’t even seen Paula after the crash. She’d just been…gone.
Maybe she was the lucky one. We’re going to fucking die out here.
Panic squeezed his lungs like a python, and Troy saw little bursts of light in the blackness. After concentrating on his breathing for a good minute, he got up the nerve to ask the only question that really mattered. “They’ll find us soon, right?”
Brian was quiet for too long. Finally, he said, “I don’t know.”
“But there was a black box thingy, right? Those have a beacon or whatever?”
“Yes.”
Exhaling, Troy smoothed his palms over his knees. “That’s good.”
“Sorry, I meant yes, they have a beacon. Activated by immersion in water and sends out pings. But we didn’t have a CVR or FDR. They’re only required on commercial aircraft. Most private planes don’t have them. Too expensive.” Brian spoke flatly, as if he was reading from a manual.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Troy had to take a few breaths to ease the pounding of his heart. Brian was quiet, and Troy barely resisted the urge to poke him and yell to stay awake. Stay with me. “What’s…FDR? CV…what?” Not that it mattered, but he needed to focus on something other than the barbed-wire panic.
After a few moments, Brian answered, “Flight data recorder.” His voice was still flat like he was reciting facts in his sleep. “Cockpit voice recorder. We don’t really call them black boxes. The media does. They’re actually orange. Easier for searchers to find.”
“Oh. So there’s more than one?” Needed to keep Brian talking. Otherwise it would be nothing but darkness and the sounds of the jungle breathing around them, and Troy couldn’t handle it.
“FDR records things like airspeed and altitude, vertical acceleration. Technical specs. CVR records all noises in the cockpit on a two-hour loop. Pilots talking, radio transmissions, any other sounds that might occur.”
“Why on a loop?”
“Don’t need the whole flight. In a crash…” He went quiet.
“What?” Troy prompted after a few moments.
Brian barely whispered, “It usually happens fast.”
Out of useless questions for the moment, Troy closed his eyes and concentrated on getting his breathing back to normal.
Hugging his knees, he counted his inhalations and exhalations.
They’d be rescued. Of course they would.
It didn’t matter that there was no black box or whatever those things were called.
The plane isn’t even here anymore. Must have sunk. Could be miles and miles away. How will they find us?
His lungs constricted. “They’ll look hard for us, won’t they?” He seized Brian’s arm blindly. “Won’t they?”
Brian was still and calm in his grasp. “They’ll look, but here in the Pacific…it’s a vast area.”
Troy shivered, nausea rolling through him. “Like when that Malaysian Airlines plane went missing.”
“Yes. Over the Indian Ocean.”
“But with us, they know the general spot we went down.” He dug his fingers into Brian’s warm skin. He was holding on too hard but couldn’t stop.
“They know we changed course for Kiritimati due to extreme weather.”
“That’s good. So we were on their radar, and they’ll see where we crashed.” He exhaled, but the relief was short lived. Troy’s pulse kicked up again as the silence stretched out. “Right?”
“We were too far away for radar.”
“What?” As adrenaline pumped through him, his voice rose.
“What are you talking about?” He realized he was still gripping Brian’s bicep when Brian’s hand covered his and gently pried his fingers loose.
Troy tried to catch a breath, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “Shit, sorry. But what do you mean there’s no radar? How is that possible?”
Brian didn’t answer at first. Again, the need to hear the rumble of Brian’s voice felt as necessary as air to Troy. He needed the distraction and comfort even if he didn’t actually want to hear what Brian was saying. He asked again, “Dude, how is that possible we weren’t on radar?”
Brian’s voice was low and calm in the darkness, the only thing keeping Troy grounded, along with the warm press of his shoulder. “Radar doesn’t cover the whole planet. Only two, three percent. If you’re more than two hundred miles away from land, there’s no coverage.”
Troy’s jaw dropped. “Are you fucking serious?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“So we’ve just…disappeared. In the middle of nowhere.”
Brian shifted, clumsily patting Troy’s arm with his damp palm. “I’m sure they’ll find us.” His voice seemed to snap into a commanding tone. “Yes. Don’t worry. We’ll get organized in the morning. Do everything we can. It’s going to be okay.”
“I…” Troy gulped some water, blinking away tears. “Okay. Yeah.” A thought jolted him. “Wait, do you have your phone? I didn’t think to grab mine. Shit, that was dumb.”
“Mine was in my jacket. It doesn’t matter anyway. We got soaked, and we’re nowhere near a service area.”
He deflated. “Right. Duh.”
“We’re going to be just fine.”
Brian sounded more and more alert. Troy wasn’t sure how he could sound remotely confident after being practically catatonic earlier, but shit, he’d take it. The fog of shock seemed to dissipate the more Brian drank. Troy asked, “We should eat, right?”
“Right.” Brian moved, hissing.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Brian moved again, and Troy heard a zipper. A flashlight beamed on, startlingly bright in the blackness. The bruise on Brian’s forehead was a mottled shadow. “I’m going to take some Advil. Do you want any? Are you in pain?”
“I’m okay.” Well, truthfully his cheek twinged where he’d hit the floor of the plane and he ached dully all over, but they should conserve their medicine.
What if they never find us? What if I never see Mom and Ty again? What if I die here?
“Troy?”
He was screaming in his mind, and he blinked a few times, trying to smile. “I’m fine.”
In the glow of the flashlight, Brian stared skeptically.
But after a moment, he nodded and dug into the pack.
He muttered as if to himself, “Need to get organized. Stay calm.” Louder, he said, “There are protein bars in here. We have enough water for now, but if it rains again, we should fill our empty bottles.”
“Okay.” It was a relief to be able to sit back and follow instructions. They ate gross bars that tasted like chalky peanut butter, but after the first bite, Troy realized just how hungry he was. He had a second bar and drank more water.
God, what he wouldn’t give for a hot shower and to change out of his dirty, damp sweats and tee.
What he wouldn’t give for shoes. And underwear.
But Brian gave him leather flip-flops and a spare pair of socks, so that was something, even though the socks were wet and the thong between his toes pulled at the cotton.
“How did this happen?” The question popped out of its own accord as they sat in the dark again, now with a mosquito net from the emergency pack draped over them. Troy was tempted to ask to have the flashlight back on, but knew it was dumb to waste the batteries.
Brian’s shoulder against him hitched, then slumped. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“But…”
“Dude, I’m not blaming you.” Troy nudged Brian’s shoulder. “You saved my life. That storm was intense.”