5. Paige
The world around me blurs into a chaotic whirlwind of noise and motion as the realization sinks in— we”re falling out of the sky. My hands grip the edges of the seat as if that is somehow going to save me. There are so many thoughts flying through my head I can’t make sense of them. Did I send that last email? Did I leave my panties and things lying on the floor in the bathroom? If I died, I didn’t want my parents or brother to have to walk in and see that. The apartment was clean, but oh no, they were going to see the empty wine bottle in the trash.
I had a will, but it was pointless. It wasn’t like I really owned anything of significant value to give away. Who would go to the funeral? When was the last time I talked to my mom? I thought about the fact I didn’t fly back to New York for Christmas because I was too busy with cases. I try to remember the last Christmas with my family. What did we talk about? Would it be something they remembered about me?
The jet tilts to the left, the files on the table flying off. I can’t help but cry out. Terror is burning through my veins. I can’t decide if it’s better or worse to die alone. Better. Definitely better. I couldn’t manage being surrounded by a couple hundred strangers screaming in fear. I do everything alone, why not die alone?
The thought is so dark it stuns even me. Who was going to mourn me? My coworkers would send flowers, but would they take time out of their busy schedules to go to my funeral? No. I knew they wouldn’t. I had no real personal relationships. My life has been all work and no play.
I”ve flown hundreds of thousands of miles, navigating through turbulent storms and unruly passengers with a calm demeanor. But this...this is different. This is the kind of nightmare that shatters all semblance of composure, leaving nothing but raw, primal fear in its wake.
Inside, I”m screaming, but on the outside, I remain stoic, my expression a mask of icy resolve. Always logical, I secure my phone inside my purse and loop it across my body, zipping it closed with trembling fingers. It”s a silly thing to do, but if my body washes ashore somewhere, I want them to identify me. I refuse to let myself think about what happens to a body that”s been in the ocean for a while.
”Paige, brace yourself,” Travis”s voice breaks through the chaos, his tone strained but oddly reassuring. ”It”s going to be a hard landing, but we”re not going to die.”
I want to believe him, I really do. But as the Pacific Ocean looms ominously below us, the odds of survival feel impossibly slim. I”ve spent thirty-one years of my life kicking ass and taking names, but in this moment of reckoning, I”m painfully aware of how little it all means in the face of impending death.
A flashback of my life flashes before my eyes—long hours at the firm, countless victories in the courtroom, and yet, not a single personal connection to show for it. No husband, no boyfriend, no kids—just me and the empty void of loneliness that stretches out before me.
I dare to glance out the window, and my heart seizes in my chest as I see the ocean rising up to meet us, the waves rolling. We”re going down, and there”s nothing I can do to stop it. I have the sudden thought I wished I would have spent more time in the pool of my building. I could swim, but I wasn”t a great swimmer. There was no way I could swim to shore.
”Hold on!” Travis”s voice is a desperate plea as the first impact hits, jolting us violently in our seats. I can”t hold back the scream. I”ve never been so afraid in all my life. The plane lurches and shudders, skidding across the water with terrifying speed. It bounces again, making me feel like a rock skipping across a lake. I have no idea how much the jet can take before it shatters into a thousand pieces with me still strapped to the chair.
I brace myself for the inevitable impact, steeling myself for the pain and chaos that will follow. But nothing could have prepared me for the deafening boom that echoes through the cabin, followed by the sickening sensation of the plane tipping to the side.
Things fall and are thrown everywhere, the interior of the cabin becoming a twisted maze of metal and debris. For a split second, everything goes black, and then Travis”s voice pierces through the darkness, urgent and panicked.
”Paige, wake up! We need to get out of here!”
I blink groggily, my head spinning as I struggle to make sense of my surroundings. Water rushes in through the broken windows, soaking me to the bone as I realize with a jolt that we”re partially submerged. The cold water shocks me into action, adrenaline surging through my veins as I unbuckle my seatbelt and push against the debris blocking my way. Travis is already a few steps ahead, kicking out a window and gesturing for me to follow him. The water is rising rapidly, swallowing the cabin inch by inch.
”Can you swim?” he asks.
”Yes. I think. I don”t know.”
”I”ll help you. We”re close to shore. Do not panic.”
”Too late.”
”Ready?” he asks, still remarkably calm.
The jet groans and shifts.
”We have to go now!”
With a deep breath, I nod at Travis, mustering all the courage I have left as I prepare to make a break for it. When he gives me the signal, we both plunge into the icy water, the shock of the cold hitting me like a physical blow. My limbs feel sluggish, heavy with panic and exhaustion, but I kick hard, following Travis”s lead as he slices through the waves ahead of me.
The saltwater burns my eyes and fills my mouth as I struggle to keep my head above the surface. Fear threatens to overwhelm me, but I clamp down on it, focusing on the rhythm of my strokes and the distant outline of land growing closer. A wave washes over me, sending me down, down, and down. Panic threatens to overwhelm me, but I force myself to focus on one thing: survival.
Kicking hard, I propel myself towards the surface, breaking through with a gasp of air. Travis is beside me in an instant. ”Come on, we”re close, just a little further.”
I push myself to my limits, each stroke feeling like a battle against the relentless pull of the ocean. Travis”s presence beside me is a lifeline, his steadiness cutting through my fear like a beacon in the storm. The shore is tantalizingly close now, a strip of golden sand that promises safety and a respite from the tumultuous waters.
But just as hope begins to blossom in my chest, a sudden current sweeps us off course, dragging us further away from land. Panic claws at my throat, threatening to undo me, but I grit my teeth and keep swimming. Every muscle in my body screams in protest, but I push through the pain, refusing to let go of the lifeline that Travis represents. Time stretches impossibly thin as we battle against the relentless pull of the ocean, the shore seeming farther and farther away with each passing second. Just when I feel like I can”t take another stroke, Travis”s voice cuts through the chaos.
”We can make it to that rock formation, it”s closer!”
Summoning every last reserve of strength, I fix my gaze on the rocky outcrop ahead, willing my tired limbs to propel me forward. The waves crash over us, threatening to drag us under, but with Travis by my side, I find new determination. Each stroke brings us closer to the jagged rocks, the waves now hurling us towards the unforgiving stone with bone-jarring force.
Travis”s arm wraps around my waist as he drags me through the water. The assurance of safety spurring me on. Travis”s voice cuts through the roar of the waves, guiding me towards a narrow gap in the rocks where the water is calmer. With a final burst of effort, we reach the relative safety of the rocky enclave, collapsing onto the rough stone with heaving chests and trembling limbs. The adrenaline that had sustained us begins to ebb, leaving us drained and shivering in the aftermath of our ordeal.
”We need to get off the rocks,” Travis says. ”We”re going to get slammed over and over.”
I”m so exhausted I don”t think I can even move. But Travis is right there once again, pulling me up and leading the way off the rocks and down to the sand. The sand is rough and unforgiving beneath my feet. That”s when I realize I”ve lost my heels. It”s such an inconsequential fact, but I”m disappointed. I dismiss the thought immediately. I”m alive. Somehow, I”m alive. My body gave in and I slid onto the sand, littered with sharp little pebbles. I didn”t care. I had nothing more to give.
”Are you okay?” Travis”s voice is distant. His face is blurry through the haze of shock and pain. I want to nod, to reassure him that I”m fine, but the words stick in my throat. I”m not fine. I turn and vomit the seawater I had taken in during the treacherous swim to shore.
Travis”s hand rubs up and down my back. ”It”s okay,” he soothes. ”Just take a few deep breaths. You”re in shock.”
The world around me felt like a distant dream, the events blurring together into a chaotic whirlwind of fear and desperation. Travis”s voice was a lifeline in the haze of my exhaustion, grounding me in the reality of our survival. As the adrenaline slowly drained from my system, leaving behind only a bone-deep weariness, I became acutely aware of every ache and pain that radiated through my battered body.
I managed to nod weakly, acknowledging Travis”s words as I focused on regulating my breathing. The taste of salt lingered in my mouth.
”I want you to lie back,” Travis says, his voice calm. ”I”m going to get a rock for you to put your feet up on. It”s all I can do for now.”
A moment later, he”s lifting my legs. I don”t care that I”m in a skirt. I lie in silence, remembering how to breathe. Eventually, my heart rate slows, and the initial fear subsides just enough for my brain to begin to function. I open my eyes and see Travis sitting beside me, one knee bent as he stares out at the ocean.
Blood trickles down the side of his face. ”You”re bleeding,” I say.
He reaches up and touches the cut on his forehead. ”It”s not bad. It”ll stop eventually.”
I slowly sit up, my head spinning just a little. ”Are you hurt?” I ask him.
”Nah, you?”
”I honestly don”t know,” I answer. ”I hurt everywhere.”
”We hit pretty hard,” he acknowledges.
”But we made it,” I add, the realization sinking in.
Travis”s gaze meets mine, a silent understanding passing between us. We had faced death head-on and emerged on the other side, forever changed by the harrowing experience. But there was no time to dwell on the what-ifs or the could-have-beens. We had to focus on the present, on surviving.
I look down at my feet. ”I lost my shoes.”
He offers a half smile, the dimple appearing. ”I”m afraid so.”
I look down. ”But I have my purse.”
He smiles again. ”That”s something.”
He turns his attention back to the water. I follow his gaze and see one of the wings of the jet sticking out of the water. It”s not as far off the shore as it felt like when we were trying to make it out of the water.
”I think it”s stuck on some rocks,” he says.
I”m not sure why that matters. I simply nod in agreement.