4. Noah
Chapter four
Noah
I glance over at Mia, relieved to see that she’s okay. She’s trembling like a leaf and hugging her camera bag to her chest, but she’s alive. We’re both alive. I take a few deep breaths to steady my own shaking hands, grateful for the surge of adrenaline in those heart-stopping moments before the crash. Now, it seems to be ebbing away, leaving me cold and disoriented.
I look out the window, past the swirling snow to the uninhabited wilderness beyond. The plane seems stable enough for now, but if this storm takes a turn for the worse...
“We made it,” I say, more to myself than to her.
She looks at me—incredulous but says nothing.
I know I’m going to get sued—just my luck. First, I get entangled with drug dealers I don’t know are drug dealers, and now this. The snowstorm is battering the plane from all sides, but Mia hasn’t moved .
“I’m really sorry,” I say, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “I didn’t expect the storm to come in that fast.”
“Sorry?” she snaps. “Sorry isn’t going to change the fact that we’re stuck in the middle of a blizzard! How could you let this happen?”
I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. I honestly don’t know if leaving on time would have made a difference. But we’re here now, and there’s no changing it. All I can do is deal with the situation I find myself in. My thoughts are still a little jumbled. I really thought we were going to slam into the ground and explode in flames. I actually pictured my charred body lying in the snow.
But we are alive. Now, I need to make sure we stay that way.
“The weather is brutal right now. Walking to the cabin is not possible. We’re safer staying in the plane until the storm lets up.”
Her eyes widen in horror. “Stay in the plane? No way. We’ll freeze to death!”
“No, we won’t,” I say firmly. “The plane is insulated, and we have emergency blankets. If the weather clears, I can fly us the rest of the way. But we can’t risk going out there now. Look outside. It’s a white-out. You won’t make it ten feet.”
She glares at me, but I watch her panic start to recede.
“Look, Mia,” I say, my voice is as steady as I can manage. “I know you’re scared. Hell, I am, too. But we have no other choice.”
She takes a breath and sets her camera on the floor. She looks out at the icy whirlwind and slowly sinks back into her seat, nodding minutely. “Okay,” she murmurs. “Okay.”
The storm continues to rage outside our tiny metal sanctuary, and it’s all too easy to imagine the plane being buried under huge mountains of snow. Neither of us gets out of our seats. I am honestly not entirely sure my legs will even work. They are still feeling very heavy after every single muscle in my body tensed up during that hard landing.
“Are you sure we’ll be safe?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say, meeting her gaze. “Trust me, we’re better off here.”
Mia doesn’t look convinced, but she nods reluctantly. “Fine. But if anything happens to us, this is on you. ”
“I understand,” I say, trying to reassure her. “Let’s get settled in. We need to stay warm and conserve our energy.”
“What about water?” she asks. “I can go without food, but what about water?”
I smirk. “We’re about a foot deep in water.”
“That’s snow,” she snaps. “You can’t drink snow when you’re fighting to keep your body temperature up.”
“I’m not suggesting we bathe in it,” I say with a shake of my head. “We’re not going to die from dehydration. Besides, I have a case of bottled water in the back.”
She glares at me. “Why wouldn’t you just say that!”
I shrug and finally undo my seatbelt. I climb into the back and see my bag along with the gear I keep on the plane in case of emergencies. In my line of work, flying into the desolate Alaskan bush, I am always prepared to be stranded for a few days. It is the nature of the beast.
I grab a bottle of water and hand it to her before taking one for myself. “I’ll try and make some space for us to stretch out,” I tell her .
“How long are we going to be here?”
“I don’t know,” I answer. “Until the storm passes. Assuming it doesn’t dump too much.”
“What does that mean?”
“I can’t take off if there is a foot of snow on the ground.”
Her mouth drops open once again.
I hold up my hand, trying to stem the fresh wave of panic I see washing over her. “We’ll just have to deal with whatever happens,” I say. “For now, let’s just try to stay warm and hydrated. I’ve got some protein bars and a bag of trail mix as well. I know it’s not the Ritz Carlton, but we’re safe enough.”
After arranging the back seats into a makeshift bed, we settle down under the emergency blankets. Mia huddles close as she sips her water. We sit in silence, listening to the howling gale outside.
The storm doesn’t let up as night falls. Instead, it intensifies. The plane creaks ominously under the strain but holds steady. Every gust of wind sends my heart racing—each one could be the one that tips the plane over. I have heard of it happening before.
The plane’s cabin, though small, helps keep the worst of the cold at bay. Our body heat is enough to keep us warm. Mia and I sit in tense silence for a while. This is not how I expected my day to go. I’m guessing she didn’t either. She’s got her camera bag tucked next to her like she’s worried it will disappear.
“So, tell me about your photography,” I say, trying to break the silence and distract her from the situation.
She looks at me, her eyes narrowing slightly, but then she sighs, and her shoulders relax a fraction. “I’m a wildlife photographer. I travel all over, capturing animals in their natural habitats. It’s more than a job; it’s a passion.”
“That sounds fascinating,” I say, genuinely interested. “What project are you currently working on?”
“My friend, Eric, is a biologist. He tracks wolves, studying their behavior and movements. He invited me up here to follow a pack and get some pictures. He’s working on a book and thought my photography would showcase how incredible these animals really are. The trail cameras are pretty low-res, so they don’t produce great pictures. This is a rare opportunity. ”
“Wolves, huh?” I say, a bit incredulous. “That’s pretty hardcore. You’re brave, going after such elusive creatures in this kind of weather.”
She smiles faintly. “It’s not bravery. It’s dedication. Wolves are amazing animals. There’s so much we don’t understand about them. I want to help change that—to show people how important they are to the ecosystem. I’ve photographed them before, but it was just a few. Eric says this is a pack of at least eight.”
I nod, impressed. “Well, I hope you get your shots,” I say, leaning back against the plane’s wall. “I’ve seen wolves from the air. They’re majestic animals. But being on the ground with them is a whole different game. We hear them all the time, and I’ve seen the aftermath of one of their kills.”
“Being on the ground with any wild animals is intense,” she nods. “You can see their interactions, their hierarchy within the pack, their hunting strategies…it’s fascinating.”
“So, what is your plan?” I ask. “Lay in wait for them or try to follow them?”
“Both,” she answers. “Depending on where they are. Eric has their tracking information, so we won’t be walking around blindly. ”
“Are you famous?” I ask.
She laughs softly. “Definitely not.”
“But this is your job.”
“It is,” she nods, seeming to relax a bit.
“How do you get paid? Are your pictures in galleries or museums?”
“Some galleries. Some magazines. I’m a freelancer. I don’t work for any one person or publication. I sometimes get contracted to go somewhere and get some shots. It’s all very fluid.”
We fall into silence again. It’s not unpleasant. It feels comfortable, like we’ve known each other longer than a few hours.
“So, is this typical weather for this time of year?” she asks.
“Yes and no. It’s a little late in the season, but it happens. We get hit with a storm, and then the sun comes out and melts it all off.”
The tension between us continues to ease as we talk, the storm outside seeming less threatening. The wind is still strong, but it’s starting to let up. “If the storm eases up by morning, we might have a chance to fly out of here,” I tell her .
Mia nods, though she still looks apprehensive. “I hope so. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I’ve been on other rough rides, but I think this is the first time I’ve been this close to death.”
I want to tell her it wasn’t such a close call, but that was a lie. Things had been very, very sketchy there for a few minutes.
“Hey,” I say softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “We’re alive and in one piece. That’s what matters most. We’ve got supplies, and we have each other. So long as we remain calm and think things through, we’ll survive this.”
She gives a shaky laugh, her lips twitching into a small smile. “You’re good at this, aren’t you? The whole survival thing.”
I shrug modestly. “Just comes with the territory. Being prepared is half the battle.”
As the night drags on, our conversation fades into a companionable silence. Mia eventually closes her eyes, her breathing evening out as she succumbs to exhaustion. I’m not far behind, my own eyelids growing heavy as the adrenaline of our emergency landing finally wears off. That is the thing about adrenaline. You can be running a hundred miles an hour one second, and the next, you are so drained you can’t stand up.
But despite the letdown, I can’t bring myself to close my eyes. I told her things would be fine, but honestly, I am more than a little worried. I know the many different scenarios that are at play here. If this storm dumps too much snow, there is no way to clear enough ground to take off. The temperature is another factor. I can feel the cold. If it gets too far below freezing, the wings could end up coated in ice.
But I’m not going to share those thoughts with her. Her head lolls against my shoulder, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of deep sleep. I catch myself watching her for a few minutes, noting her peaceful expression and the soft sweep of her hair against her pale skin. She looks so small and vulnerable—yet resolute. She’s tough. I’m impressed. Not many women would be comfortable doing what she did. Hell, I’m not sure I would be cool with facing off against animals that would like to prove they should be at the top of the food chain.
My eyes drift to the bag she’s been protecting since we landed. Given the way she’s been holding the thing, I’m curious to see if there’s more than just a camera in there.
However, my professionalism stops me from peeking into her belongings without permission. Instead, I pull my jacket closer, attempting to shut out some of the chill creeping in from outside.
I rest my eyes for a while, attempting to get some sleep. But every sound outside—be it harsh wind, crackling ice, or what sounds like twigs and pine needles pelting the plane, keeps me awake. I realize we are in a precarious position.
I take a deep breath and push aside the thoughts of potential dangers. There is no point worrying about what may or may not happen. We just have to get through the night. Then we make a move.