“Hey. Hey. Hush. We’re down. We’re safe. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I hold her for a moment to calm her down.
“You did it,” she chokes out. “You did it. Fuck. Christian. You got us down.”
“I know.” And I can’t quite believe we’re both in one piece. I step away from her and hand her a handkerchief from my pocket.
“What the hell happened?” she says as she wipes away her tears.
“I don’t know.” I’m stumped. What the fuck happened? Both engines? But I’ve no time for this now. She could blow. “Let’s move away. I’ve done an emergency shutdown on all the systems, but there’s enough fuel on board to give Mount St. Helens a run for her money should it go up.”
“But my stuff—”
“Leave it.”
We’re in a small clearing, the tops of some of the fir trees now missing. The smell of fresh pine, jet fuel, and acrid smoke is in the air. We shelter under the trees at what I assume is a safe distance from Charlie Tango, and I scratch my head.
Both engines?
It’s rare for both to go. Bringing Charlie Tango down intact and using the fire extinguisher means her engines are preserved and we can find out what went wrong.
But a postmortem and crash analysis is for another time, and for the FAA. Right now, Ros and I have to decide what to do.
I wipe my forehead with my jacket sleeve, and I realize I’m sweating like a fucking pig.
“At least I have my purse and my phone,” Ros mutters. “Shit. I don’t have a signal.” She holds her phone skyward, searching for service. “Do you? Will someone come and rescue us?”
“I didn’t have time for a distress call.”
“That’s a no, then.” Her face falls.
I grab my phone from my inside pocket, and I’m cheered when I hear the rattle of Ana’s gift, but I don’t have time to think about that, now. I just know I have to get back to her.
“When I don’t report in, they’ll know we’re missing. The FAA has our flight plan.” My phone has no signal either but I check the GPS on the off chance that it’s working and set to our current position.
“Do you want to stay or go?”
Ros looks nervously around at our rugged surroundings. “I’m a city girl, Christian. There are all kinds of wild animals out here. Let’s go.”
“We’re on the south side of the lake. We’re a couple of hours from the road. Maybe we can get help there.”
Ros starts in heels but is barefoot by the time we hit the road and it makes our progress slow. Fortunately, the ground is soft, but not so the road.
“There’s a visitors’ center along here.” I inform her. “We could get help there.”
“They’re probably closed. It’s after five,” Ros says, her voice wavering. We’re both sweating and in need of water. She’s had enough, and I’m beginning to wish we’d stayed near Charlie Tango. But who knows how long it would have taken for the authorities to find us?
My watch says 5:25 p.m.
“Do you want to stay here and wait?” I ask Ros.
“No way.” She hands me her shoes. “Can you?” She makes a snapping-twig motion with her fists.
“You want me to break the heels off? They’re Manolos.”
“Please, just do it.”
“Okay.” Feeling that my manhood is on trial, I use all my strength to snap off the first heel. It gives after a moment or two, as does the second. “Here. I’ll get you a new pair when we’re home.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
She puts on her shoes once more and we set off down the road.
“How much money do you have?” I ask.
“On me? About two hundred dollars.”
“I have about four hundred. Let’s see if we can hitch a ride.”
WE MAKE FREQUENT STOPS to rest Ros’s feet. I offer to carry her at one point, but she refuses. She’s quiet but resilient. I’m grateful that she’s held it together and not succumbed to panic, but I don’t know how long that will last.
We’re taking a rest break when we hear the thumping rumble of a semi. I stick my thumb out in the hopes that the vehicle will stop. Sure enough, we hear a grinding of gears and the gleaming rig comes to a standstill a few feet away, the engine rumbling on, growling, waiting for us.
“Looks like we got a ride.” I flash a grin at Ros, trying to keep her buoyant. Her smile is thin, but it’s a smile. I help her to her feet and almost carry her to the passenger door. A bearded young guy in a Seahawks cap opens the passenger door from the inside. “You folks okay?” he asks.
“We’ve had better days. Where you heading?”
“I’m taking this empty box back to Seattle.”
“That’s where we’re going. Will you give us a ride?”
“Sure thing. Climb aboard.”
Ros frowns and whispers, “I would never do this if I was on my own.” I help Ros to scramble up and I follow her into the cab. It’s clean and smells of new car and pine forest, though I suspect that’s from the air freshener hanging from a hook on the dash.
“What you folks doing down here?” the guy asks, as Ros settles on the comfortable-looking couch at the back of the cabin. It looks brand-new.
I glance at Ros, who gives me a small shake of her head.
“We’re lost. You know.” I keep my answer vague.
“Okay,” he says, and I know he doesn’t believe us, but he puts the beast into gear and we rumble off in the direction of Seattle.
“Name’s Seb,” he says.
“Ros.”
“Christian.”
He leans over and shakes our hands in turn. “You guys thirsty?” he asks.
“Yes,” we both say at once.
“Back of the cabin there’s a small fridge. Should find some San Pellegrino in there.”
San Pellegrino?
Ros retrieves two bottles and we drink gratefully. I never knew sparkling water could taste so good.
I notice a microphone hanging from above.
“CB radio?” I ask.
“Yep. But it’s not working. It’s new. Damn thing.” He gives it a frustrated knock with his knuckles. “Whole rig is new. This is her maiden voyage.”
That’s why he’s driving so slowly.
I check the time. It’s 7:35. My phone is dead. As is Ros’s. Damn.
“Do you have a mobile?” I ask Seb.
“No way. I want my ex-wife to leave me alone. When I’m out in the cab it’s just me and the road.”
I nod.
Fuck. Ana might be worried. But I’ll worry her more if I tell her what’s happened before she sees me. And she’s probably at the bar. With José Rodriguez. I hope Elliot and Katherine will keep an eye on him.
Feeling glum and a little helpless, I stare out at the scenery. We’ll shortly be on I-5, and on our way home.
“You guys hungry? I have some kale and quinoa wraps in the fridge left over from my lunch.”
“That’s mighty hospitable. Thank you, Seb.”
“You folks mind a little music while we drive?” he asks when we’ve finished his lunch.