Under the Northern Lights(4)

Then the nose of the plane touched the earth. I hit the steering column hard, and every cell inside my body seared with pain. I couldn’t inhale. I couldn’t exhale. Gasping for breath that wasn’t coming made stars explode in my vision, erasing the flash of green, white, and brown rocketing up and over the windshield. Glass splintered, metal whined, and objects in the cabin flew in every direction as momentum caused the plane’s body to shift sideways, toppling, turning, and twisting. I smelled gas; I tasted blood; I felt agonizing pain . . . everywhere. And then, mercifully, my entire world went black.





Chapter Two

Sound was the first thing that came back to me. And then surprise. Was I alive? How was I alive? I shouldn’t have survived that. Something was dripping nearby, a steady drop . . . drop . . . drop that was slowly bringing me back to awareness. Awareness brought sharp, burning agony, and I instantly wished for the unconsciousness to return. Every muscle in my body felt ripped in two; every bone felt snapped in pieces. There wasn’t a single inch of me that wasn’t radiating with pain, and I hadn’t even moved yet. I was terrified to move.

But I couldn’t stay in this destroyed airplane forever. I carefully opened my eyes, and whiteness blinded me as my vision spun and pulsed. It made me nauseated, and it was difficult to wait it out without throwing up. My sight finally cleared. I was slumped over the broken steering column, and fractured glass from the windshield was everywhere. Sleet from the storm was splashing all around me, chilling me to the bone. It echoed off the remaining portions of the plane; there wasn’t much of it left in one piece.

A thick branch was sticking through the windshield like a sword. Seeing it sent a strange surge of relief and panic through me—a foot to the right, and the branch would have impaled me. I tried lifting my head, and the world swirled again like I’d put it in a blender. Resisting the urge to lie back down, I tried to sit upright. My chest was on fire. Every inhale was agony, every exhale torture. I wished there was a way to breathe without using my lungs. Tears stung my eyes as I endured the pain and looked around.

The cockpit of my small plane was absolutely decimated. The body of it too. There was a gaping hole in the side of the plane where my door used to be, and what was left of my cargo was spilling out of it. My insides felt similarly torn apart. Scared of what I might find, I gingerly checked my chest and torso for blood. Every inch of me was tender to the touch, and there was a ragged cut over my eye, dripping blood down my face, but I didn’t feel any other open wounds. Of course, my legs were half-buried under the dash. I’d have to move to get them out, and I was really scared to do that.

Mentally preparing myself, I tried scooting out of my seat. A shock wave of pain radiated from my left leg, and a cry of agony escaped me. Inhaling and exhaling stuttered breaths, I tried looking through gaps in the wreckage to examine my leg. I couldn’t see much from my angle at first; then I shifted enough to see the problem, and my stomach clenched with disgust and fear. Sometime during the tumbling and tossing of the fuselage, a branch had punctured a hole through the thin metal. It had also gone into my thigh; my pants and the part of the branch still visible were coated in thick red blood. Jesus. Bile rose up my throat, and my stomach twisted so hard I knew I was going to throw up—no holding it back this time. Leaning to the side, I let it out. Oh my God, how was I going to get out of this metal death trap with a tree branch through my leg? And if I did manage to get out, how the hell was I going to find shelter before it got dark? How could I build a fire? Patch up my thigh? Find my pack holding all my food? Melt snow for water? Keep the hungry animals at bay? How the hell was I going to survive? Did I really live through all of that just to die out here? Was life really that unfair?

I began to sob as the reality of my situation struck me like lightning. Even though it felt like my chest was cracking open, I couldn’t stop crying. It would have been better if I’d died in the wreckage. This . . . this was cruel.

But no . . . I wasn’t dead yet, and I had too much to live for to give up. My protective, loving family—they would never forgive themselves for reluctantly letting me pursue my dream if I died out here. They would forever be weighted with guilt, wishing they had tried harder to stop me. All of my friends back home, including Shawn—even though our marriage had failed, we had been close since the first grade, and he would always be important to me. My three adorable pug pups—Frodo, Pippin, and Samwise. My sister was looking after them while I was gone, but they were depending on me to come home. And my gratifying career, which was just starting to become something I was truly proud of . . .

No, as long as I was still breathing, I wasn’t going to give up. I was alive, and that meant I still had a chance. And a chance, even a slim one, was better than nothing. I just had to be strong and remember that pain was fleeting.

Fortifying my stomach, I looked at my leg again. I had no idea how deep the branch was buried—or if it had nicked an artery. Pulling it out could cause as much damage as leaving it in. But I couldn’t stay here, so I didn’t really have a choice. I timidly touched my leg. Avoiding where the branch had pierced the skin, I felt the other side of my thigh. My pants were in one piece, and I couldn’t feel any protrusions, so I didn’t think the branch had gone all the way through—thank God. If I used enough force, I should be able to yank my body off the half-inch-thick stick. Shit, it was going to hurt so much. Could I do this? Yes, I had to.