walk away.”
“The crash,” the man said. “Oh, God. Tried to eject … followed protocols but … the display … the electrical … everything just … something …”
“Yeah, okay. We can talk about that later,” Wes told him. He yanked on the harness, but it didn’t give. “Help me get this open.”
The man looked down at his chest, staring for a moment.
“Jammed,” he said. “Already tried. Wouldn’t open.” His head lolled back. “Must have blacked out.”
Wes stared at the buckle. If it was jammed, how was he going to get the guy out? There had to be some way. His eyes moved from the buckle to-
He turned and looked out at the others. Dione and Anna were standing back by the SUVs, looking worried.
“I need a knife!” Wes yelled.
Dione pointed to her ear and shook her head.
“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath.
Just then something off to his right caught his attention. Danny. He was toward the front of the plane, holding his camera and shooting the wreck.
“You have a knife?” Wes yelled.
Danny moved his eye away from the viewfinder.
“No,” he yelled back, shaking his head.
Wes turned to the pilot. “Just hang on. I’ll be right back.”
The pilot nodded, gritting his teeth. “I’m not going … anywhere.”
Wes leapt from the plane and landed just beyond the edge of the burning brush. His knee howled in pain, but he ignored it and sprinted toward the SUVs.
“A knife!” he called out. “There’s one in the Escape.”
Anna shot to the back of the truck and threw open the rear hatch. As Wes neared, she popped back around and ran up to him.
“Here.” She held out a utility knife, blade retracted.
“Thanks,” Wes said as he grabbed it and turned.
Anna didn’t let it go right away. Her fingers strayed against his palm, her face full of concern.
Wes looked back. “I’m going to be okay.”
With a reluctant nod, she let go, and Wes started toward the plane.
“Wait,” Dione said, reaching out and grabbing his arm. “You’re not going back there.”
“He’s stuck! The only way to free him is to cut his straps.”
“I don’t care. It’s not safe.”
He shrugged out of her grasp and began running.
This time he angled himself so that he didn’t have to stop as he jumped onto the wing. Again his knees smashed against the surface, but he anticipated it this time and didn’t slip.
When he stood up, he could see the pilot straining to look over his shoulder. Wes raised the knife. The pilot started to smile, then suddenly he craned his neck, as if he was trying to look behind his seat.
The man’s eyes went wide. He started to yell at Wes. “Get ba-”
An explosive burst of flames engulfed the cockpit.
“No!” Wes yelled.
He started to charge forward, hoping he could still get to the pilot.
“Wes! Stop!” Anna screamed.
He made it to the middle of the wing before the heat of the new blaze forced him to throw his arms up in front of his face. He staggered backward a few steps before the wing disappeared from under him.
He hit the ground hard, knocking the air out of his lungs. Gasping, he rolled out of the burning brush.
Hands grabbed him, pulling him farther away as he sucked in air, trying to fill his lungs again.
“We’ve got you,” Anna said, her voice raised so she could be heard over the roar of the fire.
Danny showed up a few seconds later and helped them lift Wes to his feet and half walk, half carry him farther back.
Wes tried to turn back. “The pilot!”
“It’s too late,” Anna shouted. “There’s nothing you can do for him.”
Wes looked toward the cockpit. It was completely engulfed in flames. He sagged against his friends.
“It’s all right. We’ve got you,” Danny said.
Together the three crew members dragged Wes away from the heat of the fire into the cooler heat of the desert, finding shelter on the other side of the vehicles.
Once Wes finally caught his breath, Dione asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah … Fine.”
“Here.” Anna handed him a bottle of water.
Wes took a sip, paused, then took another. “Thanks.”
“What the hell were you-”
“We’ve got company,” Danny said, cutting Dione off.
Wes’s eyes, stinging from the smoke, were having a hard time focusing on anything. But before he could ask Danny what he’d seen, a not-so-distant thumping answered his question.
Helicopters. A whole mess of them.
3
“You’re lucky.” the search-and-rescue paramedic applied ointment to Wes’s forearm. “A little singed hair, first-degree burn, a few bruises, and that scrape on your arm. Could have been a lot worse.”
Wes owed two people for his life that day: the pilot for changing his plane’s course, and Dione for delaying him. Those few critical seconds she’d blocked him from running back to the jet had kept him from being caught in the flames.
He stared at the wreckage while the medic continued to work on him. The fire was out now, and several members of the naval rescue team were working to remove the pilot’s body, while others were moving around the plane, some taking photographs, others searching for God knew what.
“Excuse me, Mr. Stewart?” Wes pulled his gaze away from the wreckage. Standing a few feet away was a naval officer. He was wearing a khaki uniform, not the olive green jumpsuits of the rescue team. “I’m Lieutenant Miller. When you’re through, there are a couple of questions we’d like to ask you.”
“Of course,” Wes said.
The medic taped a piece of gauze over Wes’s burn, then stood up. “He’s good to go.”
“Please,” the lieutenant said, “if you’ll follow me.”
He led Wes to the helicopter farthest from the plane. A canopy had been set up beside it, and several portable stools were scattered about underneath. The other members of the
The moment they saw him, those who weren’t already standing jumped to their feet and ran over.
Anna was the first to reach him. She looked at the gauze bandage on his right arm and grimaced. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” Wes said. “I’m fine. Nothing major.”
“Jesus, Wes, you could have been killed,” Dione said, not for the first time.
Wes shrugged, but didn’t reply.
Danny gave him a lopsided grin. “You going to be able to hold your camera up with that?”
“Danny, seriously,” Anna scolded.
