3. Mia
Chapter three
Mia
T he worst is over.
Clearly, my pilot is good at his job. I send up a silent thanks for that. I have been in bush planes more times than I can count. My job requires me to go places that humans don’t usually visit. That means I get dropped into some of the most desolate territories in the world.
I take a deep breath in through my nose and blow it out slowly, calming my racing heart as the plane levels out. I look over at Noah, who has a death grip on the yoke. His knuckles are white, and his jaw is clenched. The chiseled lines of his face show his single-minded determination. When I first saw him, I didn’t think he was my pilot. He looked more like an underwear model, all tall, dark, and handsome.
Too bad he was such a jerk. I really didn’t like his attitude. If this were an Uber, I would definitely leave a bad review. Yes, he was a good pilot, but he wasn’t personable. I couldn’t imagine being stuck in a tiny plane with him for more than an hour .
The silence in the cabin does nothing to soothe my anxiety. I couldn’t even turn on the radio to distract myself.
“Where are you from?” I blurt out. Small talk might help to settle us both despite the mounting tension.
“Fairbanks,” he responds without looking at me. There isn’t a hint of warmth in his voice.
“Ever think about living anywhere else?” I prompt, leaning into the armrest to keep my balance as the plane shudders again.
“No,” he says flatly. “I like it here.”
His curt replies are starting to get annoying, but I force myself to continue the conversation. This is something I enjoy doing. I spend so much of my life in silent stillness, trying to avoid disturbing the wildlife I photograph. I am equally interested in people and how they live in their own little habitats. He isn’t a talker, but that just piques my curiosity.
“What’s the best thing about living here?” I ask.
He thinks for a moment, casting me a sidelong glance before returning his attention to our difficult flight. The plane shakes as it hits more turbulence before Noah manages to even us out .
“The solitude,” he answers.
I huff out a laugh. He doesn’t want to talk, and maybe I’m being a bully, but poking at him is fun.
“You don’t get tired of the snow?”
“There isn’t always snow,” he replies with exasperation.
I laugh again, a little louder this time. “Okay, so you don’t mind months of darkness, sub-zero temperatures, and wildlife that can kill you?”
His focus remains on the swirling storm outside, but he finally answers.
“The darkness isn’t so bad once you get used to it. And the cold keeps out the riffraff.”
“And the wildlife?”
“They keep their distance if you know what you’re doing.”
There’s something about the way he says that last bit that sparks my interest. “You sound like someone who’s had a few encounters.”
“I’ve had my share of run-ins.”
“My job requires me to get up close and personal with all kinds of animals,” I tell him. “Maybe you could give me some tips. ”
He glances at me, a hint of interest showing through his stoic facade. “You’re a wildlife photographer?”
“Yes.”
There is a flash of lightning, and the plane jolts violently, throwing me against the window.
“What was that?” I gasp.
Noah once again fights to remain in control of the tiny aircraft as we are swallowed in a furious swirl of white. The wind howls, battering the plane with relentless force. I desperately clutch my camera bag—my lifeline to the outside world. It’s like a talisman that can save me.
He flips several switches, and I can feel the plane drop altitude. “Weren’t you here five minutes ago?” he growls.
“I thought we were out of it! It was fine.”
“No, we were trying to run above it. It didn’t work. This thing is a monster. There is no skirting it, going through it, or even turning back.”
His voice is low and full of anger. Like I somehow conjured up this storm. Like me and Mother Nature are buddies. I look out the window and wonder how he is even flying. I see nothing—nothing but white. I realize he has an instrument panel, but this is ridiculous.
“Don’t be mad at me,” I say defensively. “I didn’t bring on the storm.”
Noah’s voice cuts through the static on the headset. “If we’d left when we were supposed to, this wouldn’t be an issue!”
I wince at the accusation. “I’m sorry! But forty minutes wouldn’t have made a difference! You’re the pilot. If you knew a storm was coming, you shouldn’t have flown! This is as much your fault as it is mine!”
He glances at me, eyes flashing with frustration. “I didn’t know it was coming in this fast or it would get this big! These storms can start small and gain momentum, especially in these parts. I made a call. Now I have to deal with it! And so do you! Maybe you’ll be on time next time you charter a flight!”
The plane lurches again, and my heart leaps into my throat. The snow outside is so thick that I can barely see the wingtips. My mind races, fear gripping every part of me. I can feel the panic rising, threatening to take over.
Noah’s hands fly over the controls. I see him reach for the radio, and his voice stays steady as he relays our coordinates and situation. But the storm is so fierce, and we are miles from civilization, I don’t know how anyone could help us. I see his eyes flash with frustration.
There is no response from the radio.
With a sharp breath, Noah bangs a fist on the dashboard. He grasps the yoke and glances at me, his dark eyes steely with grim resolve. “Hold on,” he orders tersely before gripping the controls tighter.
Just then, a massive gust of wind slams into us, sending the plane into a violent roll to one side. My heart pounds wildly as I manage to catch my camera bag before it can fly off my lap and hit him. Noah’s strong fingers dance over the control panel while working the yoke with precise movements, trying to level us.
“Are we going down?” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. The look on his face is one of fear and irritation. It was the wrong question.
“No,” he hisses.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath to calm my racing pulse. I have faced lions, tigers, and bears. I’ve been stranded in the desert and lost at sea. I can live through this. My life is always about pushing the limits. I am the photographer who goes into the wild armed with nothing but a camera. I’m not going to freak out over a snowstorm. I reassure myself that I’m in the hands of what appears to be a competent pilot.
When I open them again, the view is the same. Swirling snowflakes come at us like bullets, and the world outside is consumed by roiling white chaos. The plane judders and lurches left and right hard enough that I bite my tongue. Noah leans forward, peering into the blizzard as he guides the plane through the storm. The sight of him so focused and calm jars me out of my own panic.
I was wrong about him.
“I’m sorry,” I say, louder than necessary due to the continued crackle on the headset.
He jerks his gaze off the windshield to look at me, clearly startled by my unexpected apology.
“For what?” he grunts.
“For misjudging you,” I confess. “And for being late. I should have canceled when my flight was delayed. I thought I could make it earlier. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what? ”
“Don’t apologize to clear your conscience because you think we’re about to die,” he growls. “We’re not going to die.”
“I wasn’t.”
Was I?
Noah’s voice snaps me back. “I’ve got to put the plane down. Either we land on our terms, or Mother Nature will take us down.”
His words chill me more than the storm outside. “How far are we from the cabin?”
“About five miles, maybe less,” he replies firmly. “But I don’t know for sure. If you haven’t noticed, it’s a little hard to see, and my instruments are all over the place.”
“Shouldn’t we try to land as close as possible?” I ask.
“It’s not a question of where, Mia. We are landing now. Where the cabin is doesn’t matter. I don’t want to crash. I can choose to land now, or this storm is going to choose it for me. I’m not interested in slamming into the earth and bursting into flames.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. “Okay. Just get us down safely. ”
He nods and angles the plane down. It bucks and shudders as he fights to keep it level. I grip the armrests, every muscle tensed as I prepare for what’s to come.
My mind starts going through a checklist. My friend, Jenny, has a copy of my will. Not that I have anything worth very much, but profits from my photos will go to the World Wildlife Fund. Even if we survive the landing, I have no idea what comes next. The only person who knows where I am is Eric. I’m supposed to meet him at his cabin. I didn’t tell anyone about my plans because I wanted to escape Carter. No one is going to come looking for me.
The ground rushes up to meet us faster than I expected. We’re descending rapidly, the snow-covered landscape coming into sharper focus. I can see the treetops swaying violently in the wind. Noah is muttering under his breath, making minor adjustments, trying to find a clearing.
“Oh, God,” I whimper. This is as close to death as I’ve ever been. Closer than I ever want to be. My stomach is in knots. My life is very literally flashing before my eyes. I don’t know what’s coming, but I hope it doesn’t hurt. I pray for a quick, painless death .
“There!” he shouts, pointing to a small open space among the trees. “Hold on tight! We’re going to hit hard!”
I brace myself, squeezing my eyes shut as we descend. Wouldn’t it be ironic if I came here to get away from the man who was intent on killing me just to die in a plane crash? But at least it wouldn’t be at Carter’s hands. I know he’d want to make me suffer. There are some things worse than death.
The plane hits the ground with a bone-jarring thud, bouncing once before sliding across the snow and finally coming to a halt. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. I blink several times, trying to decide if I’m alive or dead.
“Are you okay?” Noah asks, his voice surprisingly calm.
I nod, though I’m not sure if I’m more shocked or relieved. “Yeah, I think so. Just shaken.”
The snow swirls around us, jerking the plane and threatening to topple it over. Slowly, my heartbeat calms, and reality sinks in. We’re alive, but for how long?