Beyond the Sea (24 page)

“
When the electrical systems and power go, everything is manual. APU failed too. We still had the engines, but no control.” Brian’s voice was muffled against Troy’s shoulder, the warm moisture of his breath brushing Troy’s bare arm.

Troy didn’t know what an APU was, but didn’t ask since it didn’t matter.

“
The stabilizer on the tail was set for a cruising altitude. Locked in place, and I had to manually override it. Push against the pressure. God, it was so heavy. Whole body was shaking—burning. It felt like…like I was holding up the weight of the plane myself.”

His heart thumping, Troy gently rubbed Brian’s arm. “Was the fire spreading?”

“
In the body of the plane,” he whispered. “Aft. Near the back. The top of the cabin was filling with smoke, and they could smell burning plastic. The flight attendants had everyone breathing through wet seat covers. It was all they could do. Smoke spread into the cockpit. I could barely see out the windshield. ATC gave coordinates for the closest airport, but it was too far. Told them we were coming down. We were over farmland, at least. Had to minimize casualties on the ground.”

Troy rubbed Brian’s arm steadily. “And you did. You landed in the field.”

“
Thought we were going to catch a wing and cartwheel. Break apart. But it wasn’t over, even when we stopped.”

More images from the TV report he’d seen flickered through Troy’s mind, details coming back to him: red fire trucks, white foam, orange flames. Black smoke filling the clear sky. “So you were alone in the cockpit. You couldn’t move.”

“
I managed to get the seatbelt off. My mask. Felt like I was miles underwater, like the air was heavy. Then I heard the flashover ignite.” He curled into Troy, his knees to his chest, seeming smaller than he was. “Felt the force of it. The heat rushing toward me.”

Troy’s throat was dry. “The fire spread.”

“
The emergency doors had been open for almost a minute. Letting in oxygen.”

“
You had to jump out the cockpit window.” He remembered it now—the image of a man diving out the emergency window to the grass below as flames swept through the plane from the rear.

“
Knew I was going to die. Guess there was still a tiny bit of adrenaline left in my system, and it got me out the window.”

“
Must have hurt, falling all that way.”

“
Didn’t feel it. Just my hand.” Brian lifted his right palm. “Didn’t even scar. Should have.”

Left arm still solid around him, Troy reached for his hand. Fresh tremors ran through Brian, and Troy pressed their palms together, threading their fingers. Maybe it was a weird thing to do, but it felt like the right thing. Brian gripped his hand like a lifeline. “You did everything you could.”

He shook his head. “Rich died. Chantal, the head flight attendant. They were getting passengers off. They saved so many. Eighty-six on board. Nineteen didn’t make it. Should have been twenty.”

“
No.
” Troy gripped Brian’s hand. God, the thought of him being dead… “No,” he repeated. “You did everything you were supposed to. It wasn’t your fault. You saved those lives. You’re a hero.”

Tears dampened Troy’s shoulder as a jerky sob escaped Brian. “A hero saves
everyone
. It should have been me who died. Not them. Not Paula either.”

Useless guilt slashed through Troy. He pushed it away and focused on Brian. “It wasn’t your fault. Do you hear me? It wasn’t your fault. The people who survived in that field are alive because of you. You saved them.” He clutched Brian’s hand. “You saved me. I thank God you’re here. It’s
not your fault
.”

The sobs flowed freely now. Brian turned into Troy’s arms, burying his head, his tears soaking the front of Troy’s tank top. Troy held him close, rocking him and murmuring soothing noises as Brian let it out.

The fire was fading, and Troy’s back twinged dully, but he didn’t move. As Brian finally collapsed, his head in Troy’s lap, Troy pulled the extra blanket over him and ran his hand through Brian’s thick hair. The waves rolled rhythmically into shore, stars filling the clear sky from the horizon all the way to the end of the world. He caressed Brian, lulling him into what he hoped would be a dreamless sleep.

Brian opened his eyes to the pale hush of earliest dawn, the stars receding as the black sky became gray. The fire had burned down to smoldering embers. It hadn’t rained. A cool breeze still wafted over the sand. He wasn’t cold, though. His heart skipped, and he held his breath. He wasn’t cold because Troy was sleeping right behind him. Because Troy was… Well, there was only one word for it.

Troy was spooning him.

His arm rested heavy over Brian’s waist, and the puff of his deep, even breaths warmed the nape of Brian’s neck. Brian exhaled, not moving. He told himself he should wriggle free or shove Troy away, but he stayed right where he was, with sand stuck to his cheek and Troy’s bulk pressed against him. Practically wrapped around him. Their legs touched, and that should have been weird. It was definitely weird that he was struck with the urge to rub his calf over Troy’s shin.

He didn’t move.

Blankets were twisted under and around them. They hadn’t made it back to the teepee, and a hot flush flowed through Brian as he remembered how he’d wept. His eyes felt puffy and were undoubtedly red. His throat was parched, and even though he’d slept at least six hours, he was sure he could still sleep for days.

Listening to Troy breathe, he waited. Waited for the shame and loathing to press down and grind him into dirt. Yet as the world brightened inch by inch, it didn’t come. Brian searched for the self-hatred that had simmered deep inside every day since that flight, sometimes boiling over and sometimes only a flicker when he had something to distract him. But always there. Now, Troy’s voice echoed in his mind.

It wasn’t your fault.

Countless people had told him that countless times. He hadn’t believed them. Hadn’t
let
himself believe them. But now that he’d told the story again, had said it all out loud, his lungs seemed to expand a few more inches. He’d…he’d done everything he could. He truly had.

Brian had hated that they called him “Superman.” In the dawn of another day he was lucky enough to see, he knew he wasn’t superhuman. But he’d done his absolute best, used every bit of strength he had.

The airline shrink had asked him to come up with another scenario in which he’d done things differently, and how it would have affected the outcome. Brian had refused to answer, retreating into himself, stuck in a mire of self-pity and loathing, PTSD and guilt. He’d quit not long after, stopped answering his friends’ calls. Ran away to the other side of the world.

Listening to Troy’s soft breathing, feeling the whisper of it across his neck, Brian took a deep breath and ran through the scenarios.

He’d declared an emergency almost right away, so unless he’d psychically known a fire would start, there was nothing he could have done differently there. Once they knew there was a fire, the airport was too far away. If he’d landed earlier, they would have hit the sprawl of a suburb. Not flat enough and too many buildings. Plane would break up, probably explode. Substantial casualties on the ground.

As he spun out the different options, he came back over and over to doing exactly what he’d done. After sucking in a breath, Brian blew it out in a low whistle. It had been the only way.

He ran his fingers through the fine sand and ran scenarios for the flight with Paula—the flight that had landed him and Troy in their predicament. The result was the same: they were going down, and it was either into the water, or on the beach. If he’d been in Paula’s seat, he’d be dead. It was luck of the draw.

He waited for the guilt to pulverize him, but…it didn’t. There was only grief for his friend and the people he hadn’t been able to save in that field. He knew it would always be there, but now it didn’t crush his lungs and make him want to vomit.

Behind him, Troy mumbled and shifted. He moved closer, holding Brian tighter and sending his pulse skyrocketing.
Was Troy hard?

Then Troy jerked awake and scuttled back, sitting up. “Um, hey.” He rubbed his face and glanced around. “It’s early.”

Brian sat up too. “Thirsty?” He stretched his stiff limbs and shuffled over to unzip the suitcase and fill a couple of bottles. The water level was getting low, and he hoped it would rain soon.

They went about their morning business in silence—pissing, drinking, and stacking wood and fronds to burn once the sun came up high enough to start the fires with the magnifying glass. It would be at least half an hour, if not more.

As Troy drained a coconut, Brian said, “I’m sorry about all that.” From the corner of his eye, he could see Troy look at him, but kept his gaze on the campfire he was building.

“
Dude, don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“
Well, I’m not usually so…” He waved his hand around. “Weepy.”

“
Um, do you remember how I was hysterical after that bite?”

“
But—”

“
But
nothing
. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Brian got the nerve to meet Troy’s steady gaze. “You don’t…think I’m pathetic?”

Troy screwed up his face. “Why the fuck would I think that? I meant what I said—you’re a hero. You’re brave.”

“
Brave?” Brian snorted. “Remember the part where I quit my life and ran away?”

“
Survivor’s guilt is a hell of a thing. It’s completely understandable.”

“
But…”

“
You’re not going to win this debate.” Troy shook his head. “Nope. Sorry not sorry.”

Brian had to smile, and he exhaled a long breath. “Then I guess I should stop fighting.”

“
You should. Because the only person you’re fighting is yourself.”

“
You know, a shrink said that to me once.”

Troy frowned. “I was wondering about that. Didn’t the airline put you in therapy?”

“
Oh, yes. Lots and lots of it. But when I quit and moved to Sydney, I never talked about it again. You’re the first person I’ve told. And…” He sliced through a papaya, scraping out the seeds into an empty coconut shell to roast later.

“
What?” Troy asked softly.

“
Everyone knew what had happened. Telling it to you…I don’t know why, but I think it helped. Like it was jammed in there.” He inhaled deeply. “Feels better now. Looser.”

“
I’m glad. And I meant it—none of it was your fault. I’m amazed you could set foot on a plane again after that.”

“
That never bothered me for some reason.” He smiled ruefully. “Figured I’d had my one, you know? The odds of another accident were so astronomical. There are a hundred thousand commercial airline flights a day. Plus cargo and private planes. It really is the safest form of travel. I’m just cursed, apparently.”

“
Wow. That really is bad luck.”

“
Or I’m being pun—”

“
Dude, shut it. Not even as a joke, okay?”

Brian had to smile a little. “Okay.”

“
So you weren’t afraid to fly again, but you wouldn’t be captain.”

Shaking his head, Brian quartered a breadfruit. “It doesn’t make sense, I know. Completely illogical. But I’d loved flying my whole life, and I kept waiting for it to come back. That rush of elation on takeoff, even on the most routine trip. Making flight plans and calculations—I lived for it. I flew as first officer in Australia to keep the pressure off, but deep down, I was waiting to
love
it again. To love doing it the way I still get excited by the science of it.”

“
I get it. Sometimes you can’t go back.”

“
Working as first officer, it was…fine. Most of the time on the private jets I was a glorified flight attendant anyway. I wasn’t in charge, so I could fly without feeling that pressure. Totally illogical, like I said. First officer still has control of the plane sometimes, but it was different not being captain. When I tried after Wisconsin, they put me on a short hop from New York to Philly. I barely made it. Felt like I was suffocating. I quit after that. But I kept hoping something would change. That some switch in my head would be flipped, and it would be like it was before. That
I
could be like before.”

“
I wish I could do something to help.”

“
You help by listening. So thank you.”

“
Of course.” Troy smiled, his teeth gleaming and eyes crinkling.

Brian tore his gaze away and concentrated intently on slicing the fruit.

“
I know how hard it can be to let shit go.” Troy was quiet for a few moments. “Okay, so I mentioned that my dad died, right?”

“
You did.” Brian had wondered how, but didn’t want to ask.

“
Well, my brother’s not the only one in the family to have a drug problem. Dad overdosed. He was a user all my life. Booze, drugs—anything he could get his hands on. He was surprisingly functional. I think I told you he worked as our manager, me and Tyson’s?”

Brian nodded, wishing he could go back in time and protect Troy from the damage his father had clearly inflicted.