High Impact (28 page)

Pasha did as instructed. It did look like a puncture wound. The bleeding around the neat round hole had diminished, but not stopped.

Karla rinsed the wound with water. “The bleeding probably flushed out most any debris or dirt.” She handed a sterile pack of large gauze pads and tape to Pasha. “I’ll put on some antibiotic ointment and you can dress it. We’ll need to change this frequently and keep an eye out for infection.”

They had almost finished dressing the wound when Toni joined them. “How’s she doing?”

“Got the bleeding stopped. Now we wait.” Karla zipped the sleeping bag around Emery.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, about getting the pilot out here,” Toni said. “I think I have a solution.”

“You do?” Pasha fed a few more pieces of wood to the fire.

“Come see what you think.”

They returned to the plane where Ruth sat in the co-pilot’s seat, monitoring Skeeter. “He’s coming around, I think,” she told them.

Karla examined him, while Toni led Pasha to the back. “We cobbled together a kind of stretcher that should work. But it’ll take all of us.”

Toni’s handiwork impressed Pasha. She’d disassembled two of the take-apart oars and bound them together with seat belts. The loops of the belts encased one of the sleeping pads. It looked sturdy enough to support Skeeter’s weight. “Great job, Toni. Let’s carry it up near the front.”

“Looks like his legs might be pinned,” Karla said. “Does he carry a crowbar? Bryson has one.”

“I saw a toolbox in the back, under the bungee net.” Toni headed toward it and returned carrying a standard-sized crowbar. “Let me,” she said. “Just tell me what to do.”

“You probably do have the advantage,” Pasha said. “See if you can get some leverage there,” she pointed to a section of the twisted metal by Skeeter’s knees, “and bend it back so we can slide his legs out.”

Toni put her back into it and let out a grunt of exertion. The steel began to bend. She repositioned herself and bent it farther until they could slide him from the seat and onto the makeshift stretcher.

It took all four of them to carry him out to the fire, which had nearly gone out by the time they got him settled. Pasha quickly built it up again. Skeeter groaned a few times as they carried him and opened his eyes for the first time as Karla assessed his injuries.

“What’s going on?” he mumbled.

“We crashed, Skeeter,” Karla told him. “Try not to move around. Can you tell me what hurts?”

“Mmm. Face,” he answered. “Left leg.” His nose looked broken, and he had several minor cuts and lacerations on his face, and a big gash across his forehead. His leg, below the knee, was soaked in blood. “And chest. Hurts to breathe.”

“You probably have some broken ribs,” Karla told him. “And maybe internal injuries. Lie quiet.”

“Cold.” His lips were bluish, his skin pale.

Pasha went back into the plane for a sleeping bag and broke apart another crate to build up the fire. Karla was examining Skeeter’s leg when she returned. It had a deep laceration along the shin, but she managed to stop the bleeding and dress the wound with Toni’s help. Once she finished, they zipped him into the sleeping bag and Karla tended the cuts on his face.

When she’d done all she could, Karla rose and surveyed the landscape. They were high on the mountain, probably at nine thousand feet or better, with no sign of civilization as far as they could see. “Skeeter, do you have a sat phone in your duffel?”

“Yeah.” He was still kind of groggy, but growing more alert by the moment. “Big green bag with the L.L.Bean logo.”

“I’ll find it.” Toni headed back toward the plane.

“Ruth, would you mind checking out here?” Pasha asked. “Some of the gear got tossed into the snow—you can see the indentations. Would you round up what you can?”

“No problem.” Ruth limped toward the nearest depression.

“How bad are they?” Pasha asked Karla in a low voice once Ruth was out of earshot.

“They need to be in a hospital, but I can’t believe any type of rescue aircraft will be able to reach us any time soon. Any idea where we are?”

“Roughly. I recall seeing a few cabins along the route, but that’s all. I have no idea how close we are to any of them or what they might be like.” She studied the mountain they were on. “And it’s a long way down to the valley. I can’t imagine how we could get them down there.”

“For now, anyway, we’re better off staying put,” Karla said, “and concentrating on keeping everyone alive until they reach us.”

“Agreed. I’ll start sorting through the supplies and see what we have. I’m concerned about how cold it’ll get tonight. We don’t have enough burnable material to keep the fire going very long. We’re better off staying in the plane, I think, than in tents. We can take out the seats and make room in the back for us all, try to insulate it as well as possible, and keep a close eye on these two.”

“That’s a good plan,” Karla said. “While you’re doing that, I’ll try the sat phone and get Toni to help me set my arm.”

Pasha spent the next hour making the plane as snug and comfortable as possible. Toni and Ruth collected all the gear and she sorted through it, laying aside everything that would help them survive. They had three two-man tents, a sleeping bag and sleeping pad for each of them, two rafts, a good supply of food and extra clothes, and a number of survival items from Skeeter’s duffel: a wool blanket, PLB, satellite phone, mirror, small butane stove with two canisters of fuel, candles, a saw, axe, and gun. They lacked firewood and kitchenware. They had only one large pot to cook and melt water in, so they’d have to improvise.

She activated the PLB and gave the satellite phone and cooking pot to Toni. “Fill this with clean, white snow, and set it by the fire. Then keep feeding it. We’re going to need water. And come tell me right away if Karla manages to reach anyone.”

“You got it.”

Now that she knew what they had to work with, she and Ruth removed the passenger seats to make more room, then spread out one of the deflated rafts along the floor of the plane. On top of this they spread the sleeping pads and stuffing cut from the plane’s seats, until they had a relatively cushioned, flat surface big enough to hold all of them lying side by side. Duffel bags filled with extra clothes would serve as their pillows.

“Not too bad,” she told Ruth as they surveyed their handiwork. “We can use the other raft to block the opening once we all get in here. It’s plenty big enough.”

“How cold will it get?” Ruth asked.

“They were forecasting lows around freezing for the next few days. But it’ll be colder than that at this elevation, especially in the wind. We’ll have to try to seal every crack we can.”

“When do you think someone will come for us?”

“Hard to say. I imagine all flights, even rescue missions, will stay grounded until the skies clear. We’ll make do until they get here. We’re very lucky to have Karla along.”

She started to say they should go check on the others when the power abruptly switched on, heightening her senses and sending the familiar tension of anticipation coursing through her body. Pasha knew what it meant.

Emery had finally awakened.

Emery drifted from a placid dream into a nightmare of pain. Her head throbbed and she shivered. So damn cold.

“Emery, can you hear me?” Karla’s voice, very near.

She opened her eyes and tried to focus. White. She lay in snow.

“Emery? Do you know where you are?”

She turned her head toward the voice, wincing at the pain. Karla hunched over her, her arm in a sling, her face marked with cuts and lacerations, and blood staining the front of her coat.

In an instant, Emery flew back to the moment of the crash. Another brush with death, and she’d beat it yet again. “Yes.” She tried to move, but as soon as she tried to sit up, her head throbbed worse.

“Lie still. You took a good blow.” Karla laid a hand gently on her shoulder to keep her prone. “You probably have a concussion, at the very least.”

Pasha.
Pasha had been next to her on the plane but wasn’t here now. Emery shivered, from fear this time. “Pasha all right?”

“She’s fine. Everyone survived.”

“Help coming?” Her mouth and throat felt incredibly dry. She had to struggle to speak.

“Communications are down,” Karla replied. “We’ll keep trying, but the crash should have triggered the Emergency Locator Transmitter in the plane and Skeeter has a PLB. They’ll find us, even if we don’t get through, but we may have a wait. I doubt anything can fly in this ash.”

“Emery!” Pasha’s voice, from a distance.

She tried to turn in that direction, but the pain in her head and Karla’s quick hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Please, lie still, Emery,” Karla said gently. “Pasha’s coming. She’ll be right here.”

And a moment later, she was. Pasha knelt in front of her and placed a hand on Emery’s cheek. She felt a slight shock, then a surge of healing warmth against her skin. “Welcome back. You had me worried. How you feeling?”

“Head hurts. Thirsty.”

“Can she have some water?”

“A few sips,” Karla replied. “Toni, could you put some from the pot into my water bottle?”

“Coming right up.”

Emery couldn’t see Toni, but she sounded close. Her limited range of view enabled her to see only snow, Pasha, Karla, and a portion of the plane’s wing, which jutted up in the snow a few feet away.

“Careful now. Not too much, and try to move as little as possible,” Karla said as Pasha put the mouth of an aluminum water bottle to her lips. The warm water helped allay her thirst.

“You really all right?” she asked Pasha.

“I’m fine, Emery. I’m worried about you, though, so no moving around, okay?”

“Whatever you say.” It was easy to agree. Emery felt like a truck had run over her. In addition to her throbbing head, her whole body ached. And as her mind cleared, she realized her side felt especially tender. “My side?”

“Something punctured you,” Karla said. “I think it missed your vital organs, but you lost a lot of blood. You’ll be weak for a while.”

Emery mulled over what they’d told her and what she remembered before the crash. “Pasha…you sensed it, didn’t you?”

Pasha’s eyes looked dark with worry and regret. “Yup, but I didn’t know what it meant. I’m sorry. Maybe if I’d said something…”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Karla said. “We’re all alive, and we’re going to keep everyone safe until help arrives.”

Emery agreed. “What she said.”

The remark made Pasha smile, though her eyes remained troubled. “What can I do to make you more comfortable?”

“I’m so cold.”

“You were out here for a while in the snow before I found you. I’ll build up the fire some more.” Pasha rose and disappeared from her limited field of vision. Not long after, she heard the sound of wood splitting and felt a surge of warmth against the back of her neck.

“Better. Thanks.”

Pasha squatted and gently rearranged the soft padding under Emery’s head. “You rest. I’ll fix us all something to eat. Something nice and warm to make you feel better.”

“Don’t be gone long.”

Pasha stroked her cheek, the simple gesture warming her and making her feel safer than even the fire. “I’ll be right out here with you. Just need to get the food.”

Emery did feel warmer soon, but as she became more comfortable, she also became incredibly drowsy.

“Emery?”

She opened her eyes to find Pasha sitting cross-legged beside her, holding a tin can whose label read Fresh Packed Niblet Corn.

Pasha smiled when she saw Emery staring at it. “We don’t have any dishes or utensils,” she explained. “This is soup.” She motioned to someone out of view. “We’re going to help you sit up just enough to drink this. Move very slowly. We have a duffel bag for you to lean against.”

Pasha supported one shoulder and someone gripped the other. She turned her head and saw Toni, but the effort triggered another burst of pain behind her eyes. She allowed them to assist her into a half-reclined position, which enabled her for the first time to get a good look at her surroundings. Toni, Ruth, and Karla had gathered around a big pot near the fire, sipping soup out of an odd assortment of containers—another tin can, a collapsible plastic cup, and the water bottle she’d drunk from.

Skeeter lay on the other side of the fire, propped up like she was, most of his body encased in a sleeping bag. His face was badly swollen and laced with cuts and abrasions, but he seemed alert as he sipped from a red plastic lid of some kind.

Beyond them all, the plane lay tilted to one side with a deep trench behind it. With the tail dented in, the nose buried in snow, and a gaping hole surrounded by twisted metal right where she’d sat, it seemed miraculous that any of them had survived, especially her.

“Here. Drink this.” Pasha held the can near her lips.

“I can do it.” She pulled her right hand out of the sleeping bag and took the tin. The aroma of garlic overpowered the smell of wood smoke from the fire as she sipped. Chicken soup, and not the store-bought stuff, but homemade, with thick egg noodles, corn, carrots, and peas. She welcomed the warm, fragrant liquid like a medicinal tonic. “Delicious. Thank you.”