Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Toby
I’ve always thought nothing could distract me when I’m in the midst of an argument with Harry, but it appears I have found the one thing in the world that can.
The loud banging reverberates through the cabin. It’s followed by a smaller bang.
My gaze flies to Harry. His face has turned white.
That is not a good sign.
Harry doesn’t do emotion. He’s one of those infuriatingly unflappable people I imagine could watch a nuclear meltdown, then turn to the person next to him and say, “Well, that’s mildly inconvenient, isn’t it?”
Seeing him go white causes fear to cartwheel in my stomach.
The normal hum of the engine has transformed into an unsettling sound—a high-pitched whine overlaying a guttural rumbling like a beast in distress.
The jet shudders violently and fear jolts through me.
“Bollocks,” Harry says.
This is the first time Harry and I appear to be in complete agreement about something.
The plane’s nose pitches forward, and my stomach plummets with it.
Suddenly, there’s a staticky noise. Kade’s voice comes over the intercom, tight with tension.
“Gentlemen, we seem to have a problem with our engines. I’m going to make an emergency descent.”
“I think the emergency descent has already started,” Harry says.
I can’t even snap back a retort to Harry for being a prick because I don’t think I can open my mouth right now without vomiting.
“Remember the emergency brace position I outlined in my safety briefing.” I’d be reassured by Kade’s professional words if I couldn’t so clearly hear the panic raging in his voice.
My stomach lurches as the plane dips even more.
Once a straight line out the window, the horizon is now tilted at an angle as the engine’s roar increases into a screech, overpowering my ears.
Oh my fucking God.
It’s not my life flashing before my eyes but rather a litany of regrets whispering in my ear. Things I’ve never done.
I’ve never seen the northern lights. I’ve never been to South America.
I’ve never been in love.
The last one echoes.
I’ve tried not to think about it, and I’ve fooled myself into believing it doesn’t matter, that I have a full life in every other way.
But now, faced with the possibility that these are my last seconds on this planet, it seems like the biggest tragedy of my life. I’ve never found that one person who completes me, who gives me purpose for waking up every day.
And it looks likely I never will.
Although surely I am not destined to die with Harry Matheson. Fate cannot be that cruel.
My gaze flies to Harry opposite me, but besides his pallor, he looks perfectly composed.
“The pilot knows what he’s doing,” he says. “He will have practiced for this scenario.”
I’ve always suspected Harry Matheson is a cyborg. Now I have conclusive proof, and it appears I won’t be able to share this news with the world because I’m currently plummeting towards Earth in a small metal tube.
Gravity is a cruel mistress.
The plane continues its harrowing descent. Out the window, the ground rears up at an alarming pace. Hills, forests, and lakes become more distinct in detail, but now is definitely not the time to admire the beauty of the Nordic wilderness.
It feels like the landscape is reaching up to grab us and pull us down to Earth.
Kade’s voice is back on the intercom. “Prepare to brace.”
Holy shit, this is actually happening.
I lean forward, clutching my ankles, my head between my knees, my breathing coming in ragged gasps.
Then, with a deafening roar, we slam into the ground. The world becomes dizzying, tumbling chaos. I’m thrown forward, the seatbelt cutting into my chest. My ears are filled with the screeching of metal, the shattering of glass, and the splintering of trees.
I swear every bone in my body rattles.
Miraculously, the plane skids to a stop, the sound of tortured metal giving way to eerie silence.
I keep perfectly still for a second, my uneven breath the only thing I can hear over the pounding in my ears.
Is it over?
I cautiously raise my head, blinking as my eyes adjust to the dimness of the cabin without lights. The once-immaculate interior now looks like it’s been through a particularly aggressive bout of redecorating by a pack of hyperactive toddlers.
I’m alive.
And despite my feelings towards Harry, a flood of relief flows through me when I see he also appears to be in one piece.
His eyes meet mine, and for a fleeting moment, I feel weirdly connected to him. Shit. The crash must have rattled my brain more than I thought.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“Considering I’ve just been in a plane crash, it appears I’m surprisingly intact,” Harry replies.
I tentatively stretch out my legs, testing that they are still in working order.
My stomach seems most affected by the events of the last few minutes because it’s still sloshing around. My only other discomfort is a tender feeling across my chest where the seat belt dug into me during our landing.
I unbuckle my seat belt as the door to the cockpit opens with a metallic screech.
There’s no trace of Kade’s cocky smirk now as he pokes his head through the divide.
“Are you both okay?”
I gingerly roll my shoulder, testing it. “Yeah, we’re fine.”
“Thank you, Kade. We owe you our lives,” Harry says pompously.
Kade grimaces. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”
“No, I’d say we’re actually right in the middle of the woods,” I comment.
Neither Harry nor Kade appears in the mood to appreciate my wit right now. But it’s the only way I know how to fight the panic swirling inside me.
“We need to evacuate the plane. If the fuselage is damaged, it could cause a fire,” Kade says.
Fuck. With Kade’s words, the panicky feeling surges up to clutch at my throat. I’m suddenly claustrophobic, the cabin walls pressing in on me.
I don’t want to survive a plane crash only to die in a fire. That would be the kind of irony Alanis Morissette used to sing about.
Kade comes past me to rip open the red handle on the emergency exit. It’s like a plug, a small section of the plane coming into the cabin, leaving a hole behind.
“Are you okay to climb down?” Kade asks me.
“Sure. I guess I’ll be the first bear snack,” I say. I place my phone in my pocket, then climb out the hole onto the wing. It’s only a four-foot drop from the wing to where my feet land on slightly squishy ground.
We’re nestled in a small clearing surrounded by towering trees. The cold air nips at my face, and the scent of pine invades my nostrils.
Other than the squeaks and groans of the wreckage and the scuffling of Harry leaving the plane, the forest is quiet.
I slide my phone out of my pocket and check it, but there’s no reception.
Harry somehow manages to make jumping off a plane wing look like something he does every day because he’s completely composed when he lands on the ground next to me. I don’t even think his suit jacket has a wrinkle.
He stands beside me for a second, and I hear the sharp inhalation of his breath as he takes in the trees crowding around us like spectators jostling to get a view of the unexpected visitors.
We’re a long way from Westminster, that’s for sure.
There’s a tremor in the ground as Kade jumps down. He doesn’t pause to take in the sights like Harry and I have but instead heads straight around to the other side of the plane, where the external luggage compartment is located.
He stashed Harry and my luggage there before takeoff, but he doesn’t emerge with either of our bags now.
Instead, he’s carrying a bright-red bag about twenty inches high.
He heaves the bag onto the wing, the bright-red fabric standing out like a beacon against the white plane and the muted greens and browns of the forest.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Survival kit,” he says briskly.
“Oh. Right.” The idea that my life has taken such a dramatic turn that I require the contents of a survival kit leaves my head spinning.
“You might want to get some warmer gear from your luggage,” Kade suggests.
I look down at myself. I’m dressed in my standard casual work outfit: a navy blazer, white Oxford shirt, khaki chinos, and brown loafers.
“Right,” I nod. I follow Kade’s path to the external luggage compartment and retrieve my bag.
The problem is, I didn’t exactly pack clothes suitable for a trip to the forest. But I do have a field jacket, which provides a layer of extra warmth and has more of an outdoorsy vibe than I’d noticed when picking it out from Marks & Spencer.
I definitely blend in more than Harry, who is dressed in a three-piece suit and retrieves a camel-colored wool topcoat from his suitcase.
“Now what do we do?” I ask as we head back to the other side of the plane.
“We wait for rescue,” Harry says.
I turn to look at Kade. “Did you give a mayday call as we were going down?”
Kade’s eyes slip away. “Ah…no.”
“I expect he was slightly too busy focusing on landing a crippled plane,” Harry says scathingly.
It’s nice to see that Harry’s wanker side survived the crash landing. I can’t imagine he’d have any personality left without it.
Somehow, seeing Harry infuriatingly composed and infuriatingly…Harry causes some of the tightness inside me to unclench.
This is the one constant I can cling to.
Even in a life-or-death situation, Harry Matheson will always be a complete and utter git.
“It’s okay. There’s a satellite phone in here,” Kade says as he riffles through the survival kit.
“Oh, that’s good. Because I don’t have any reception on my phone,” I say.
Harry and I watch as Kade takes out what looks like a mutant lovechild between a walkie-talkie and one of the first generations of mobile phones.
He fiddles with it for a few minutes before frowning at us.
“I’m not getting a good signal. It must be because we’re in a valley with all these trees.
I’ll trek up that hill over there and see if I can get some reception to call for help.
You two just stay close to the plane.” Kade says the last sentence like he expects we’re keen to hoof it off into the wilderness.
“Of course,” Harry says.