11. Chapter 8 – Nikki #2
Moving forward to murmur in Marley’s ear from behind, I lowered my voice. “I might be able to vouch for this — he was bleary-eyed and quite numb when he got on the plane. I hadn’t made the connection, but it would be hard to take drugs with hands and feet cuffed, I would think.”
She stiffened and her spine straightened into a taut bowstring. She unleashed the arrow right into Detective Diaz’s pompous sneer.
“I think you are missing the part where we just crashed into the jungle,” Marley snapped, her tone sharp. She’d finally reached the end of her patience. “We’re alive now, but we might not even make it until nightfall. Do you get it? We need to get off this fucking plane.”
And we needed to speed it up. The sparks overhead continued to fly and the cloying smoke was getting thicker. I needed my vodka, and my glasses, in that order.
Drawing the gun and cartridge out of my pockets, I casually placed a single bullet into the chamber, making a show as I did so. “I’d suggest you do it, mate. Or we will have to leave you here.”
I didn’t need to take aim. My words met their intended target. With a snarl ravenous wolves would envy, Detective Dick stomped over to Torres and produced a silver key from his pocket, uncuffing his feet first.
“Okay,” Marley declared as Diaz continued to uncuff the man’s hands. “Ambrose, please assist these two off the plane. Nikki and I will grab the emergency kits and be close behind.”
Despite my warring urges, I remained at the front until Detective Diaz and Torres had been successfully lowered.
Only then did I turn heel to the rear of the cabin.
Miraculously, my cache of liquor remained intact in the small bag I had siphoned from the plane stash.
My glasses had not been so lucky. The frame had bent with a horizontal crack through the entirety of one lens.
I molded the plastic frame back into place and placed the glasses on the bridge of my nose. The cracked right lens crackled everything in front of me into a shattered kaleidoscope, but I would manage.
Popping off the top of one of the bottles, I downed the mickey in a single series of gulps. A wave of relief washed through my veins and set my blood ablaze. Finally.
Along with my newly acquired gun, my pocket also held a tin of mints – my subterfuge. I tossed two in my mouth, knowing I’d have to ration the remainder, and secured the tin with my bottles of liquid courage.
The new and improved Nikki wouldn’t need them. They were simply a safety blanket, nothing more.
I hastily shoved the stash safely into my pack that had also survived within its metal compartment, and grabbed the bulky first aid box attached to the wall by my seat.
The fire extinguisher also remained, held by a metal anchor on the opposite wall.
I released it and carried the two around the corner to find Marley pleading with the sole living passenger aboard.
“Please,” she begged in Portuguese, kneeling at the woman’s feet, her face genuinely distraught as she attempted to coax the woman off of the plane. “You’ll die here. Let us help you.”
A fresh wash of tears flooded the younger woman’s face, a vehement shake of her head denying the offer of safety.
“Let’s give her a moment.” I fumbled with my heavy load to place a gentle hand on Marley’s shoulder. Reluctantly, she nodded, then stood and moved to the front of the plane.
She turned to stare into my eyes—the first time I’d been captured in her gaze since she’d woken me out of my stupor.
The brilliant green—like a jungle forest, ironically——was red-rimmed and imploring.
She dipped her head toward the cockpit, where the metal door had been bent sideways, as if the sandwich cart had barreled through it.
“I need to know what happened to him.” Tears fell in fat droplets onto her dirty skin. “Jamie. I need to go in there, but I’m terrified.”
My scrunched eyebrows pressed against my glasses’ broken frame. “What do you mean? Weren’t you in there with him?”
Abrupt wracking sobs shook her body and she covered her mouth with both hands to stifle the noise. Dropping our supplies into the adjacent seat, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her tight into my chest, absorbing her vibrations.
“I don’t remember, Nikki.” She hiccupped into my shoulder. “I don’t remember anything other than waking up in that seat there.” She raised a shaking hand and pointed to seat 1A, the seat that now held our first aid supplies. “The last thing I remember is driving to the airport. But what if …”
She cut off, dissolving into another gamut of violent tears.
I ran a palm through her hair, down her back, in calm, soothing motions, stalling my response until she could hear it.
When the tears subsided, much more quickly than I’d anticipated, she straightened and lightly pushed on my chest. I let go immediately and mourned the loss of her at once.
“Marley, I don’t have answers for you.” I caught her gaze once again, willing my words to penetrate those captivating eyes.
“But I know who you are, and I don’t believe for one minute you abandoned this plane for your own gain.
” I broke our moment to dip my head toward the door.
“We’ll go in together. Face it together. Okay?”
I got a hesitant nod through an aggressive batch of sniffles, and that was good enough for me. She turned on her heel, drew a breath, and pushed open the door.
Light flooded through the doorway in spite of the growing black smoke. The cramped cockpit was in pure shambles, a nest of wires dropping from the ceiling amid all of the turn dials and knobs. But most shocking of all was the absence of a corpse.
Captain Jameson Adams wasn’t there.