Chapter Text
I wasn’t dead.
I assessed the cockpit of the two-passenger plane and found that the wide cab, which had felt spacious a few seconds ago, had collapsed inward on impact. The window, while still intact, was a spiderweb of cracks, and the aluminum siding had buckled in at angles that made me feel like I was inside a crumpled up ball of paper.
The air wasn’t yet thick with smoke, but the heavy fumes of diesel mingled with another scent, coppery. I’d smelled it before on hunting trips—blood.
I could see the pilot in my peripheral vision, his slumped posture almost as telling as his silence. He was dead. The crash had happened just a moment ago; I only knew I hadn’t lost consciousness because the glass was clear and it was snowing outside. The flakes dotted the windshield, gathering in what would soon be a blanket obscuring my vision.
We’d managed to smack into the side of a mountain. I’d been getting ready to take pictures and alarms had started going off. The pilot, an old man named Obi, had uttered a “Bloody hells.” and everything had gone sideways fast. In a heartbeat, our view of the cloudy horizon had gone into a nosedive that felt like the stomach-dropping plunge of a rollercoaster.
Worst of all, now I couldn’t move. It was a full-body paralysis from the neck down and probably meant I had a serious spinal cord injury. The realization came on the heels of another: I was going to die, and even worse, it might not be quick.
A gust of wind howled over the top of the plane, finding the open seams and filling the compact space with cold air. It felt like the first bit of dirt thrown on the top of a coffin. Water trickled in from an unseen hole, down my forehead, across my nose, and onto my lips, tormenting me like a steadily dripping faucet.
Please, I prayed. Please let me die quickly.
It wasn’t fair. Twenty-four years on this earth was all I was getting. My days as a photographer for National Geographic were over, and there would be no stone with my name, Rey Niima, to mark my time. The elements would absorb me, and maybe one day they’d find the plane, but I didn’t think so. It was even more useless to hope they’d find my pictures. This stretch of the Alps was barely trafficked; I’d had to hire a seasoned pilot, one of the few who would even venture into the area for a few close-up shots.
I didn’t know too much about him, but he’d said he was a loner. I hoped he was at peace; it was too late for me to ask forgiveness for my part in his death.
The snow whited everything out, bringing with it a new kind of darkness. I couldn’t watch it pile up; the feeling of being buried alive was too much to bear. Closing my eyes, I willed myself to let go, only for my ears to be filled with a crunching noise that sounded like it was everywhere.
It brought on a new wave of terror. The vibrations rocked like small earthquakes, and I knew it could only mean the plane was sinking, or worse, caving in. What little courage I had failed me; I whimpered, mumbling words that sounded childlike—a prayer, a call for a mother long dead, and even as I heard metal ripping apart around me, a final plea for mercy.
From the corner of my eye, a series of jerky movements made me think the pilot’s body had come alive again, which was a pity, seeing as things were just about to end. But he wasn’t moving; he was being moved. I barely registered his exit as his body was suddenly sucked from its seat. It didn’t make sense, but I didn’t have time to ponder on it. The bottom of the plane dipped underneath me and a wedge of snow struck my head—one that had built considerable weight from piling up.
A few more of those and I wouldn’t freeze to death, I’d suffocate. It was the final straw; I was starting to wonder what I’d done to deserve such an awful end when I heard the voice.
“I’ll get you, sweetheart.”
A deep baritone that sounded almost ethereal. No, these mountains didn’t have people. They barely had life. We’d crashed into the deepest crevice of one of the remotest mountainsides on Earth, and as much as I wanted to believe the Swiss Alr Rescue was here to save me, it was impossible.
I scrunched my eyes as I heard the ear-splitting screech of tearing metal, but it was lost quickly in the gust of howling wind that blasted through the carriage. The cold didn’t let up, whipping around me, taking my breath, and chilling me to the bone.
Finally, the mercy I’d begged for. This time, when I closed my eyes, I did not expect to open them again.
“Wake up.”
I obeyed. For a second, my mind couldn’t accept the reality of him. His long raven hair tumbled thick around an angular face with warm brown eyes and full lips. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t dressed for winter; somehow, he was here for me.