Beyond the Sea (5 page)

After a few deep breaths, he prodded at Brian’s limbs. He didn’t think there were any major injuries. Troy ached all over, but didn’t seem to have any big injuries either. Poking through the backpack, he found a shiny square that unfolded into an emergency blanket. He tucked it over Brian. “I’m going to check things out, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

Brian barely blinked. Shit, maybe Troy shouldn’t leave him, but he had to see what was left. They’d need as many supplies as they could get from the wreckage. They’d need to…what? He racked his brain, taking far too long to come up with building a fire so rescuers could see them. And getting warm would be awesome too. Even though the temperature had to be seventy degrees, the rain had been icy, and Troy had shivered for hours. He hoped the sun would make it out from behind the clouds before it got dark.

Gingerly, he picked his way along the side of the cliff face back to the beach, wishing he’d thought to grab his shoes after the crash. But he hadn’t been thinking of anything aside from getting out alive.

Sticks and rocks and whatever else covered the jungle floor scratched his bare feet, and his mind raced through all the possibilities for snakes and spiders and whatever the hell else lived on tropical islands. Each step was a victory, and it was glorious to have the sand between his toes again, even though it was wet and clumpy.

The palms lining the beach listed wildly, but most still stood. Fronds, plants and small trees littered the sand and entrance to the jungle. Troy’s legs burned as he picked his way around the base of the cliff, his whole body bruised. The ocean was calmer, powerful waves rolling in, but no longer violent. Although there was still a gray cast to the world, it seemed the immediate danger was gone.

And so was the plane.

Staring, Troy bunched his toes in the damp sand, willing the battered plane to appear again at the base of the cliff. But it had vanished, swallowed by the sea. He stared at the sand narrowing to a collection of black rocks, and up at the stone wall, swallowing thickly. Brian had said the other pilot was dead, and if there had been anything left of her, it was gone now.

The cliff face had been washed clean, and the pieces of sheared metal and debris left amid the rocks at the base didn’t seem like much. Most had apparently been swept away. The murmur of the waves and a bird’s distant cry filled the air.

He bent in two, his knees hitting wet sand as a sob choked him. He wanted to go home—he wanted to go
anywhere
that wasn’t…this emptiness. Turning left and right, Troy searched for any signs of life. Did anyone live on this island? Was anyone going to help them? Surely they would have seen the plane go down, even in the swirling storm?

“
Hello?” His shout was swallowed by the heavy sand and growing humidity in the air. “Hello? Hello?” Terror clawed his throat as he stared at the empty horizon.

Breath coming in quick bursts, Troy tore back across the sand and into the jungle, not caring about the scratches and jabs to his feet. On his knees again by the crevasse, he panted. Brian was exactly where he’d left him, eyes still open and unseeing.

“
Brian!” Troy yanked off the silver blanket and gripped Brian’s shoulders, the black and gold stripe decorations of his pilot’s uniform digging into Troy’s palms. “You need to snap out of it. I know you probably have a concussion or something, but talk to me. Say something. Please.” He needlessly added, “I’m freaking out.”

Brian barely blinked.

Swallowing the urge to scream in his face and shake him, Troy took a deep breath. “Dude, look at me. Can you hear me? Please. I need your help. Help me. Help!”

As if a light had flicked on, Brian’s focus snapped to Troy. “So much smoke. Get out. The fire’s coming. Get out!”

Whoa.
Sitting back on his heels, Troy smoothed out his grip, awkwardly petting Brian now. “It’s okay. There’s no fire. We’re fine. We’re safe.”

Brian closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Have to get everyone out.”

“
We’re out. It’s okay. Just rest.”

He closed his eyes, muttering something Troy couldn’t make out.

With a sigh, Troy tried to make himself comfortable. He drank more water and settled in. Listening to Brian breathe as the day faded, he whispered another prayer.

“
Hello?”

Amid the buzzing insects and the jungle’s chirps and mysterious exhalations, Brian’s voice was like a gunshot. Troy yanked his head up and tried to smile even though it was pitch black. “
People can hear the smile in your voice.”
His father’s baritone echoed through his mind. Troy said, “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“
Where? Who?” Brian was rigid.

“
Um, it’s Troy Tanner? I was your passenger on the plane. We crashed on an island this morning. I know, it’s crazy dark now. Still cloudy, I guess.” He’d wanted to examine the emergency pack to see if there was a flashlight, but he’d left it out of reach on Brian’s other side and he’d been too afraid to venture out even a few feet. Afraid of what jungle creature his outstretched hands might encounter.

“
How do you feel?” Troy asked. “You need to drink some water. Here.” He felt for the full bottle at his hip and pressed it gently into Brian’s hand. “Can you hold it? Let me take the top off.”

Troy listened to Brian swallowing. He hoped the concussion was mild, and tried to remember how it was supposed to be treated. He’d once seen a football movie where the hurt player had been asked memory questions. “What’s your name?”

“
Brian Sinclair.”

“
And what do you do?”

“
I’m a pilot.”

“
Okay, good. Where do you live?”

“
Sydney.”

Troy assumed that was true. He urged the bottle back to Brian’s lips, wishing he could see. “Uh, who’s the president of the United States?”

“
Barack Obama. Not for much longer. Too bad about term limits.”

Troy smiled. “Yeah. Not loving the other options.” At least Brian sounded more awake and with it. “Drink a bit more. Does your head hurt?”

“
Doesn’t tickle.” He was silent a moment. “The rain stopped.” He brushed against Troy as he sat up straighter. “We need to get back to the plane.”

“
We can’t. It’s okay, just rest.”

“
How long has it been?” Brian’s voice was clearer, and it seemed the fog was definitely lifting, thank God. “It’s so dark.”

“
I’m not sure. I’m hoping it’s at least midnight. Been dark for a long time.” The night felt like a living thing, keeping them prisoner in the jungle. Troy longed for sunrise. “Is there any food in the emergency pack?”

“
Yes. But we need to check the plane first.”

Troy sighed. “It’s gone.”

There were a few heartbeats of silence. “What is?”

“
The plane. The storm got worse after we got off the beach. Must have washed it away. I went out and checked earlier.” Troy listened to the hum of insects, waiting for Brian to say something else. Finally, Troy asked, “Do you think anyone lives here?”

More silence. A mosquito buzzed near his ear, and Troy slapped at it. “Brian? Are you still awake?”

“
Yes, sorry.” It sounded like Brian took another swig of water, his arm brushing Troy’s as he swallowed. “We’ll make sure, but no. I don’t think anyone lives here.”

Acid bubbled in Troy’s belly. “How do you know?”

“
We changed course for
Kiritimati. Christmas Island is another name for it. There’s an airport there. We’re west of it. At least a thousand miles.”

“
A
thousand miles
?” He couldn’t even visualize how far that was. Blood rushing in his ears, Troy willed himself to wake up safe in his bed. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. “But…but there are other islands, right?”

“
Phoenix islands to the west are closest. Six, seven hundred miles. Atolls and coral reefs. Uninhabited, I think. This whole area is.”

Troy dug his fingernails into his palms to keep from screaming or crying or both. “We’re just out here all alone?”

“
Dumb luck to find this island. We’d be dead otherwise.” He shuddered, his shoulder trembling. “Not just her.”

Troy didn’t know what to say to that. He hadn’t even seen Paula after the crash. She’d just been…gone.

Maybe she was the lucky one. We’re going to fucking die out here.

Panic squeezed his lungs like a python, and Troy saw little bursts of light in the blackness. After concentrating on his breathing for a good minute, he got up the nerve to ask the only question that really mattered. “They’ll find us soon, right?”

Brian was quiet for too long. Finally, he said, “I don’t know.”

“
But there was a black box thingy, right? Those have a beacon or whatever?”

“
Yes.”

Exhaling, Troy smoothed his palms over his knees. “That’s good.”

“
Sorry, I meant yes, they have a beacon. Activated by immersion in water and sends out pings. But we didn’t have a CVR or FDR. They’re only required on commercial aircraft. Most private planes don’t have them. Too expensive.” Brian spoke flatly, as if he was reading from a manual.

Fuck
.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Troy had to take a few breaths to ease the pounding of his heart. Brian was quiet, and Troy barely resisted the urge to poke him and yell to stay awake.
Stay with me.
“What’s…FDR? CV…what?” Not that it mattered, but he needed to focus on something other than the barbed-wire panic.

After a few moments, Brian answered, “Flight data recorder. Cockpit voice recorder. We don’t really call them black boxes. The media does. They’re actually orange. Easier for searchers to find.”

“
Oh. So there’s more than one?”

“
Yes. FDR records things like airspeed and altitude, vertical acceleration. Technical specs. CVR records all noises in the cockpit on a two-hour loop. Pilots talking, radio transmissions, any other sounds that might occur.”

“
Why on a loop?”

“
Don’t need the whole flight. In a crash…” He went quiet.

“
What?” Troy prompted after a few moments.

Brian barely whispered, “It usually happens fast.”

Out of useless questions for the moment, Troy closed his eyes and concentrated on getting his breathing back to normal. Hugging his knees, he counted his inhalations and exhalations. They’d be rescued.
Of course
they would. It didn’t matter that there was no black box or whatever those things were called.

The plane isn’t even here anymore. Must have sunk. Could be miles and miles away. How will they find us?

His lungs constricted. “They’ll look hard for us, won’t they?” He seized Brian’s arm blindly. “Won’t they?”

Brian was still and calm in his grasp. “They’ll look, but here in the Pacific…it’s a vast area.”

Troy shivered, nausea rolling through him. “Like when that Malaysian Airlines plane went missing.”

“
Yes. Over the Indian Ocean.”

“
But with us, they know the general spot we went down.” He dug his fingers into Brian’s warm skin. He was holding on too hard but couldn’t stop.

“
They know we changed course for
Kiritimati
due to extreme weather.”

“
That’s good. So we were on their radar, and they’ll see where we crashed.” He exhaled, but the relief was short lived. Troy’s pulse kicked up again as the silence stretched out. “
Right
?”

“
We were too far away for radar.”

“
What?” As adrenaline pumped through him, his voice rose. “What are you talking about?” He realized he was still gripping Brian’s bicep when Brian’s hand covered his and gently pried his fingers loose. Troy tried to catch a breath, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “Shit, sorry. But what do you mean there’s no radar? How is that possible?”

Brian’s voice was low and calm in the darkness, the only thing keeping Troy grounded, along with the warm press of his shoulder. “Radar doesn’t cover the whole planet. Only two, three percent. If you’re more than two hundred miles away from land, there’s no coverage.”

Troy’s jaw dropped. “Are you fucking serious?”