Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
“We need to move away from the plane,” Tuck said. I walked with him, supporting the pilot’s legs. I wasn’t even sure how I managed it, except that Tuck was instructing me. If he thought I was capable, then I guess I was. When we got about fifty feet from the plane, we laid the man down on the grass. Tuck supported his head, setting it gently on the earth before placing two fingers on his throat.
“Is he…okay?” Charlie asked, coming up next to me and wiping his mouth with a shaking hand.
Tuck’s fingers fell away from the pilot’s neck, and he hung his head for a moment before standing. “No,” he said, turning away from us. “He’s gone.” He shifted his head so I could only see his profile. “But he saved our lives, and he deserves our gratitude.”
Gone. Oh God. Oh no. He was dead. I couldn’t even remember his name. I’d barely paid attention to him, and he’d saved my life. Our lives. Another sob rose in my throat, and I brought my hand to my mouth so it wouldn’t escape. I turned away from the dead pilot and closed my eyes. He’d given his life and we were standing here, banged up, but alive.
Tuck was striding back toward the plane. I could now see the fire and smoke Tuck had smelled. It was small, but if it was near the fuel tank—which I really had no idea if it was—then we needed to stay far away. “What are you doing?” I yelled to Tuck.
“Gathering what I can,” he called back. I started to follow him, but Charlie stopped me with a hand to my arm.
“There’s no reason for all three of us to put ourselves in danger,” he said. “Grab our phones!” he called to Tuck. “And some water!” He lowered his hand. “I’m thirsty as hell.” Tuck either didn’t hear him, or ignored him, hopping back up through the open door and disappearing into the cabin. A minute later, a suitcase came flying out, landing on the ground with a thud. I debated joining him and helping to grab whatever we could but hesitated. Charlie was probably right. Tuck was obviously willing to take this risk. If something happened to him, we’d be available to help. We had a good visual of the fire and could shout at him if it started to spread.
I jogged forward and picked up the suitcase and then delivered it several feet away, under a small, bare tree. Tuck continued to toss things out of the door, Charlie and I “rescuing” them and putting them in the pile we’d made at a distance I’d deemed safe.
“You’re shivering,” Charlie said as we stood waiting for Tuck to toss something else from the door or emerge to join us. “And your teeth are chattering.”
Where is he? Charlie ran his hands up and down my bare arms. “Do you have something warm in your suitcase?”
I nodded, my eyes glued to the plane. Come on. What was taking him so long? I startled when the fire at the back of the plane jumped, a burst of sparks exploding as though it’d encountered something flammable. “Tuck?” I called. My eyes darted past the windows, trying to catch sight of him inside. I took a step forward just as he appeared in the doorway. My breath released, my shoulders dropping. He was holding a blanket that obviously contained a pile of stuff, his fist gripping the gathered fabric that held it closed. He jumped from the door and started walking toward us just as the fire leaped again, causing another small explosion. Tuck picked up his pace, walking quickly and then jogging as the fire surged and spread, whooshing toward the cabin and blooming large behind him.
I let out a small scream, turning my cheek as the warmth billowed toward us. “Grab the stuff,” Tuck said, foisting the loaded blanket at Charlie and then turning toward where the pilot lay. “I think the plane’s about to blow.”
I could smell the fuel now, closer and more pungent as though Tuck had stepped in a puddle of it. I bent, grabbing the handle of my suitcase.
“Did you get the phones?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah,” Tuck said. “Maybe we can get some service but I’m not hopeful.”
“What if we can’t?” Charlie asked. “It’s cold as fuck out here.”
Tuck ignored him, heading over to the dead pilot.
“What are you going to do?” Charlie asked.
Tuck didn’t answer him. He seemed to be in some zone, or on a mission only he had been given. He bent and picked the dead man up under his armpits. His jaw was set, muscles bunched, dirt smeared across his cheek, the pilot’s blood on his clothing as he adjusted his weight and began dragging him across the ground. Charlie and I stumbled along behind him. “I’m going to get his body a safe distance away from the fire and then figure out where the fuck we are,” Tuck murmured almost as if to himself.