Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
X anthe’s gaze jerked to the propellor on the nose in horror. It had slowed enough now that she could see the outline of the blades.
She bit back a cry when the nose dipped sharply with a sudden gust of wind. Charlie cursed, fighting to pull the nose back up. “I can’t get it going.”
“Do we have enough altitude to glide back to a landing area?”
“No. I’m gonna try to put us down on the water.” He issued an urgent mayday on the radio.
Xanthe’s gaze shot back to the view out the windshield, feeling like she was trapped in a bad dream. Every muscle in her body went rigid, terror flooding her as they pitched forward and began plummeting toward the choppy surface.
A strong hand gripped her shoulder from behind, holding tight as the ocean raced toward them. “Brace!” Blaine shouted.
Barely choking back the scream trapped in her throat, Xanthe couldn’t move. She sat frozen in her seat, staring in horror at the water they were about to hit.
“Come on. Come on, goddammit,” Charlie snarled, trying again to get the engine going. “I’m going to put us down as easy as I can.”
She couldn’t answer. They were losing altitude too fast. There was nothing she could do but reach up to grip Blaine’s hand on her shoulder and pray in those final seconds.
Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard it felt like it would burst. She felt a slight change in pitch. Thought the nose might have lifted slightly. Her eyes stayed glued to the water as they glided toward the churning surface.
“Everyone brace,” Charlie said.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Prayed.
They touched the water. For a second she thought they would be okay.
Then it felt like a truck slammed into them.
The impact rammed her forward in her seat. Flipped them upside down.
The four-point harness jerked painfully tight across her chest and stomach. Her head snapped forward, hard enough to disorient her.
She opened her eyes, raw terror flooding her when she saw they were upside down and the nose was already sinking into the water.
The pontoons had been damaged.
She ripped off her headset and clawed frantically at the release on her harness, bracing a hand on the dash. Yanked the restraints over her head and glanced over at Charlie.
He was slumped forward over the yoke that must have punched right into his torso. His head was turned toward her, eyes half-closed, focused on her with pure horror.
She reached for him without thinking, started to unbuckle his harness.
“I got him,” Blaine said, pushing her toward her door. “Get out.”
She could barely think. “But?—”
“Get out , Xanthe,” he snapped.
Outside the sinking plane, the frigid gray-green ocean waited.
Holy shit, was this really happening? Before her brain shut down in panic, she wrenched the door open to confront the churning water. She was terrified, but it was either that or drown in this metal coffin as it dragged them all to the bottom.
Blinking through tears, numb with shock, she glanced over at Blaine. He had Charlie’s harness undone. Was dragging him from the seat. “Go now, or it’ll be too late,” he said.
She wrenched the door open and jumped out. The shock of the cold water took her breath away. Her arms felt leaden, her legs dragging her down as she swam away from the doomed plane in jerky strokes, struggling to keep her head above the crests of the waves rolling by.
The nose was completely submerged now, water pouring in through her open door.
There was no sign of Blaine and Charlie. She had to help get them out.
“Blaine!” she cried, heading back toward the sinking aircraft. She could see a flurry of movement inside, but he only had seconds to get them out before they both got dragged under. “Blaine, answer me!”
She turned onto her stomach and swam toward the plane with purposeful strokes, aiming for the back door that was already at the waterline. Just as she neared it, a life jacket shot out of her open door.
“Grab it,” Blaine shouted from inside out of view.
She flung a hand out to capture it, yanked it over her head. A moment later Blaine appeared, up to his chest in water as he dragged Charlie’s limp form with him through her open door. Blaine was bleeding from his head, and Charlie seemed unconscious.
But they were out of the plane as it sank below the water.
“Are you okay?” she asked Blaine, struggling to tread water with her leaden limbs while she buckled the belt of the vest around her. Shock and cold threatened to immobilize her and short-circuit her brain.
“Yeah.” Fully in the water now, he turned Charlie onto his back and towed him in a rescue hold away from the plane. He had a life jacket on. “Can you swim?”
“Y-yes.” It was freezing, already numbing her body, compressing her chest. She stopped treading and stretched onto her front again to begin swimming away from the wreckage, aiming for the closest bit of shore she could see.
The waves and current swept her off course, pulling her to the right. Her strokes were jerky and ineffective, nothing like how she swam in a nice, heated swimming pool.
A wave slapped her in the face. She choked. Sputtered. Sharp gusts of wind racing over the surface snatched her breath away.
She forced her legs to keep kicking, grimly maintained strokes with her arms, pausing every now and again to rest and look behind her. Blaine was still back there, but moving slowly against the current with the burden he carried. Bright red blood ran down the side of his face.
She kept swimming for shore, struggling against the weight of tears. The beach stayed frustratingly out of reach, the water pushing her away from her goal, cold sucking the strength from her body.
For the better part of an hour she fought her way through the waves. By the time her feet touched bottom just off the beach she was weak and gasping. She stood, staggered on rubbery legs through the water up to the stony beach. Strong gusts of wind hit her in the back, almost knocking her over.
Everything had happened so fast, and she’d been focused on the pod until the engine went quiet, she had no clue which island they were on. But the wind was blowing down the strait from the west, so at least she had some idea of direction.
She stopped thigh-deep and turned around, moving toward the spot where Blaine was coming ashore a short distance up the beach. When he got close, she flung a hand out to grab hold of one of Charlie’s life jacket straps and helped Blaine haul him onto the beach.
They collapsed on either side of him, trembling and fighting for breath. Charlie lay limp and unresponsive on the beach, eyes open to slits. His face was ashen.
Blaine had somehow managed to tow a first aid kit with him. He checked Charlie’s pulse.
“Is he…?”
“Still alive, but I don’t know if…” He hauled her into his arms, holding her tight. Raindrops landed on them, the wind making them colder still. “You ok-kay?”
She forced a nod, because no, she wasn’t okay. None of them—or this—was remotely okay. “W-where are w-we?”
Blaine shook his head. His face was pale as he scanned the terrain behind her, the blood still running down his face from a cut in his head. Thankfully he was alert and not slurring his words. “Gotta…f-find shelter,” he gasped out.
She nodded, scanned the shoreline and eased back from him to pull her phone from her back pocket to call for help. No surprise, it was dead. They were all alone out here. Had to get out of the elements and warm up. If possible, get dry.
She got up and pointed at a copse of trees nearby. “Th-there.” Blaine bent down and put Charlie over his shoulder. She carried the first aid kit and they started off together.
Their feet slipped and slid on the wet stones, slowing their progress. It was worse for Blaine, who was forced to carry Charlie’s dead weight when he was already cold and exhausted.
Once inside the dense trees, the evergreen boughs and thick trunks cut the worst of the wind gusts.
Shivering all over, she turned to face Blaine, who set Charlie down gently on the cedar-strewn ground. “N-now w-what?” She couldn’t think. Could hardly grasp what they’d just gone through.
His teeth chattered. “F-find shelter bef-fore we t-turn hypo…thermic.”