5. Mia
Chapter five
Mia
I wake up instantly, straight from dead asleep to confused and afraid. That’s when I feel the hard chest under my cheek and the strong arm around my body, holding me close. Everything that happened floods into my brain, terrifying me all over again. I realize I’m snuggled up to Noah. My initial reaction is one of horror, but I try to mask it as I move away. He’s already awake and looking at me, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I ask, crankiness seeping into my voice. “We need to go.”
He shrugs. “I just woke up myself. Besides, I was waiting for the sun to rise nice and high. No sense stumbling around in the dark.”
I hate that I was so cozy with him. And if I’m being honest, I’m attracted to the guy. I chalk it up to the situation. There’s no way it’s real. It’s just the adrenaline and the proximity, nothing more .
“Right,” I say, running a hand through my tousled hair. “Too dark to travel. Got it.” I try to shake off the feelings creeping up inside me, but it isn’t easy.
I casually glance at his shirt, praying I didn’t drool on him. I don’t see a wet spot, which is a small victory, but I’ll take it. I rub my eyes, glad I hadn’t bothered with make-up yesterday. The last thing I need is mascara smudged around my eyes. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I can’t help but think about what I must look like.
It is stupid—vapid. I am in a life-threatening situation, and I am worried about impressing the hot guy I’m trapped in a plane with. I give myself a mental shake and try to think rationally. I look at Noah once again. He doesn’t seem worried. On the contrary, he seems fully at ease, like we aren’t stranded in an unfamiliar location with no one else around to come to our aid.
“How are you feeling?” he asks simply.
Tiredness weighs on me, but adrenaline refuses to let me rest. “Scared,” I admit softly, giving him a weak smile .
“It’s understandable,” he says, his voice deep and slow, which for some stupid reason excites me. “But we’re doing okay so far.”
“How cold do you think it is?” I ask. “I don’t feel like I’m hypothermic.”
“It’s probably below freezing.”
“That’s not good.”
He slowly shakes his head. “No, it isn’t.”
“It’s quiet.”
“The wind died down a couple of hours ago.”
“Have you been awake all night?”
“No.” He pulls his arm away from me, reaches for a bottle of water, and hands it to me. “I was awake off and on but got a couple of hours of sleep.”
I take a drink. The water is cold but not frozen. That is a good thing. If it were frozen, we would be in a world of trouble. As I drink, another problem arises. “So, I need to step outside.” I felt my cheeks burning. Of course, I’m stranded with the hottest guy on the planet, and I have to pee.
“I get it,” he smiles. “I need to step out as well. I’ll try to get the door open. Hopefully, it isn’t frozen shut. ”
Noah gingerly rises to his feet, wincing as his limbs protest the long hours of inactivity. He grabs the handle of the plane’s door and gives it a tentative push. It doesn’t budge. I tamp down the panic. He gives it another hard shove with his shoulder. I watch with silent admiration as he battles the frozen door.
Finally, with a triumphant grunt, Noah manages to open it. A rush of cold air sweeps into the plane, making me shiver involuntarily. “Shit,” he mutters.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“There’s a layer of ice over the snow.”
“That’s bad?” I ask.
“Let’s just take care of the most emergent problem right now,” he says.
He climbs out first before reaching up and helping me out. I’m nearly blinded by all of the white. The area is blanketed in snow. The sun is shining brightly, making it painful to look around. The landscape is so uniform that I feel completely lost and disoriented. “What do we do now?” I ask, a hint of panic in my voice. “Can’t we use the radio to call for help?”
Noah gives me a look of mild irritation. “We tried that last night, remember? The storm must have damaged the receiver. ”
His nonchalance irritates me even more. “Well, we have to try it again.”
“First, I’m going to go behind that tree.”
He goes one way, and I go the other. I am so glad I dressed for the weather. I walk back to the plane and see Noah is already sitting in the cockpit. He tries to start the engine, but it sputters and dies. My hope to fly out of here fades. He tries it again and again, but nothing happens.
“What now?” I demand.
He sighs, inspecting the plane. “It’s probably the fuel filter, clogged from the cold.”
Noah steps out and examines the wing I’m standing under. “Ice.”
“What?”
“There’s ice on the wings. We can’t take off like this. We’ll have to hike to the cabin.”
I know he’s right. “How far is it?”
“Probably five, maybe seven miles,” he replies. “I don’t know for certain.”
“But where is it?” I ask him. “Last night, you couldn’t see anything. We could be anywhere.”
“I have a general idea. I don’t know exactly where we are, but I know the direction we need to go. ”
“How?” I ask with disbelief. I slowly turn around. It looks the same every which way I turn.
“I’ve been flying in this area for years. We were headed for a small landing strip about a quarter mile from your friend’s cabin,” he says confidently.
“Great. I’m not sure a birds-eye-view translates to ground navigation.”
“We could sit here and hope for a heat wave,” he says sarcastically. “Stay a few more nights in the plane. Or we walk to the cabin.”
“Do you really think we can make it five miles in this?”
“Yes. Trappers do it all the time.”
“We’re not trappers, and we’re not wearing snowshoes,” I remind him.
“Look, you can continue to find reasons to be a sitting duck, or you can do something about it. I have zero intention of sitting in that plane another night if there is a cabin and hopefully another way out of here.”
I don’t know what to say. Sleeping in the plane does not appeal to me. But I also don’t know if I can trust him to make it to our destination. I’ve done lots of hiking while tracking moose and bears to photograph, but I was better prepared, and I knew where I was going.
“We’ll die if we stay here,” he adds, his voice eerily calm. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather freeze to death trying to get out of here than sit in this plane waiting for a miracle.”
His words make sense, and despite my fear, my survival instinct kicks in. “Alright, let’s do it.”
He climbs into the plane. “I’ll get my go bag.”
“What about my stuff?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “We’re not dragging all that with us. We can come back for it.”
“I’m not leaving my camera,” I argue.
“You do understand this will not be a leisurely walk?”
“Yes, but I’m not going anywhere without my camera.”
He sighs but doesn’t argue further. “Fine, but pack light. We need to move fast. You might not think it’s heavy now, but trust me, it’s going to feel like a boulder after an hour of walking through this.”
“I’ve hiked with my camera before,” I snap and climb in behind him .
I grab my small bag and unpack some of the unessential equipment, tucking it into my suitcase. I take just one lens and the camera body.
Noah pulls out his backpack. “I always fly with protein bars and basic survival gear, just in case. We’ll have what we need.”
“How many times have you crashed?” I ask the snideness in my voice not lost on either of us.
He laughs, a sound that grates on my nerves and yet oddly comforts me. “More times than I’d like to admit. Let’s go.”
“I do hope you’re joking.”
He climbs out of the plane, and despite our little argument, he helps me down.
“I have not crashed a plane,” he finally answers. “But shit happens.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s comforting.”
“Come on,” he replies.
I slide on my sunglasses and pull up the hood of my coat. The sun is out, but it’s cold. We start walking, the snow crunching beneath our boots. The air is crisp, and the cold bites at my exposed skin. Noah seems unfazed, and his strides are confident and sure. It’s as if he’s a walking compass, knowing exactly where to go. I follow behind him, realizing I’m putting my life in his hands. A man I’ve known less than twenty-four hours.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” I ask, my voice betraying my anxiety.
“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. “Trust me.”
Trust him. The words are easier said than done. But I have no choice. The vast whiteness stretches out in all directions, and without him, I’d be hopelessly lost. The hike is grueling. My camera bag feels heavier with each step, just like he promised. I struggle to keep up with Noah’s pace. He occasionally looks back, making sure I’m still with him, but he doesn’t slow down.
“How much farther?” I ask, my breath coming in short gasps.
“We’re making good progress,” he replies.
“That’s not an answer.”
“Because I don’t have an answer.”
“Are you telling me we’re lost?” My voice grows louder, riding on a wave of panic.
“No,” he responds tersely, refusing to make eye contact. “I’m telling you, we should keep moving. I don’t have an exact location. ”
My legs are like lead. I can feel the cold gnawing at my fingers. The snow is deeper than it looked from the plane, each step sinking in and making the next even harder. A chilling wind whips up, catching us off guard and sending an icy shiver down my spine.
“Keep going,” Noah encourages.
Hours seem to pass. I can feel my strength waning. All of my layers are no match for windchill. The frigid air is quickly becoming too much. My feet are numb with cold, and I am exhausted. I let my eyes wander over the landscape. There’s something serene and pure about the snowy vista. The silence is profound, broken only by our footsteps and the occasional gust of wind. It’s beautiful in a stark and unforgiving way. Maybe it’s the hypothermia setting in, but I find myself appreciating the untouched beauty of this desolate place. I consider taking out my camera, capturing the moment for prosperity, but the thought of stopping makes me shudder.
Without warning, Noah halts. “What is it?” I pant out, grateful for the chance to catch my breath. He doesn’t answer immediately, scanning the horizon with a focused intensity. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for him to speak. Has he seen something? Are we actually close? He motions to a large dark figure in the distance.
“There,” he points with a gloved hand.
“Moose,” I smile when I see it.
“Got many pictures of them?”
“I have some,” I reply. “Magnificent creatures.”
“We’ll take a wide berth,” Noah says and starts walking again.