Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
My back slammed against the seat as the plane righted, my gaze fixing on the portion of cockpit I could see through the wide gap in the blue privacy curtain. The pilot’s hand gripped a lever or a gear or whatever it was. He was holding it so tightly his knuckles were white. For several minutes, the plane soared and dove, the small plunges seeming somewhat controlled as though the pilot was lowering the altitude the only way he was able. I dared a glance out the window, the ground much closer than it’d been before. “We’re going to crash,” I sobbed. Brace for impact. Brace for impact.
“No,” Tuck said, not turning his head but raising his voice. “We’re going to land. It’s going to be bumpy. Hold on.”
Okay. Okay. We were going to land. He sounded so sure, and his instruction gave me hope. We weren’t going to crash. We were just going to experience a very rough landing. Okay. Hold on. Okay.
Next to me Charlie had his eyes clenched shut and a low humming was coming from the back of his throat as though he was barely holding back a scream. I reached over and grabbed his hand, linking his fingers with mine. He didn’t open his eyes, but he gripped my hand tightly.
We broke through the cloud cover and the lightning diminished, the sky brightening. The ground grew nearer, but then the plane turned, heading in the other direction. An open field appeared, and the plane dipped, my stomach rising into my throat, vomit threatening. Breathe, Emily. Breathe.
Hold on.
I hadn’t heard any landing gear come down. We had no wheels. How were we going to—
The plane hit the ground with a violent bang, and my body bounced, an intense burn spreading from my hip across my stomach as I screamed.
Glass breaking. Screeching metal. Pain.
We were on the ground, but the plane was still flying across the earth. The tail tilted, and for a moment I was suspended forward, held in place only by my belt, a horrible crunch exploding in my ears before the plane once again slammed backward.
Groaning, both human and machine. Labored breaths. Settling metal.
“Are you guys okay?” Tuck. It was Tuck’s voice. I managed to turn my head and meet his eyes. His gaze jumped over me, and then looked to Charlie. I realized one of my hands was still linked with Charlie’s and the other was holding Tuck’s. I didn’t even remember reaching for him. I let go of them both, assessing my body, moving my limbs, shaking so hard my teeth were chattering. My hip burned, and my head ached, but I seemed to be mostly okay. I nodded, a jerky movement of chin to chest. I couldn’t find my voice.
“We have to get out of here,” Tuck said. “There’s a fire somewhere. I smell the smoke. And I smell jet fuel too. There’s probably a leak.” Fire. Jet fuel. Leak. Danger. I felt numb and still shaky, and it took me several tries to reach down and remember how to unlatch a seat belt. My thoughts were disjointed, my body nonreactive. Suddenly, Tuck was standing in front of me, leaning in. I felt his warmth, and I smelled his sweat. It was familiar and somehow comforting, and I pulled in a gasping breath, not realizing I’d practically forgotten to breathe for a minute.
“Shit,” he swore, struggling with the belt across my lap. “It’s stuck. I’m going to have to pull hard. This might hurt.”
“I don’t care,” I said, suddenly desperate to be free. To get out of this death trap. He met my eyes, thinning his lips before he yanked the latch and pulled the strap away. I flinched, feeling a burning pain where the belt must have cut into my skin, but I stood shakily.
Next to me, Charlie was standing too, already having unbelted himself. He looked glassy-eyed and shocked. He lunged toward the door and pulled the lever, wrenching the door open and then practically hurling himself through the opening. A blast of cold air hit me, working to bring me from my semi-stupor.
“Go,” Tuck ordered. I did as he said, sitting on the edge of the opening and then jumping down. My legs buckled, and I landed on my knees, prickly grass biting into my skin. My breath came in white pants, and I reached down, taking fistfuls of grassy earth in my hands and gripping it, the cold dirt falling through my fingers. Sobs racked my body, and distantly, I heard the sounds of retching. Charlie.
When I finally raised my head and looked around, taking in several deep, cleansing breaths, I saw that we were in a massive field, nothing but trees and grass for as far as the eye could see.
“Help me out here!” Tuck said. I turned toward his voice and saw that he was standing in the plane’s doorway, holding the unconscious pilot under his armpits. The pilot. God, we’d left the pilot. Blood was dripping down the man’s face and there was a large gash on his forehead. I stood, trembling but swallowing my sobs. Charlie was still retching, so I took several steps back toward the door where Tuck turned the pilot’s body so that I could hold his legs while Tuck supported his upper half, sitting down and then sliding off the edge with him. The pilot’s head lolled, and I noticed the front of his shirt was soaked in blood too. Oh God. The cockpit had taken the brunt of the impact. It was a wonder Tuck had been able to get him out.