Sylvie pressed a finger against Will’s neck, confirming he was still alive. She couldn’t accept anything less. Then she worked to unbuckle him from the shoulder harness, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Come on!” she yelled at the buckle.
What she wouldn’t give for her diver’s knife. It had to be in here somewhere. They were both fortunate her tanks hadn’t flown forward and cracked their heads during the impact.
“Will, come on, you need to wake up.”
The plane creaked and groaned. It would pitch completely over and upside down soon, and then Will’s head would be fully under water. They would both be. Sylvie searched his pockets.
There.
She found a pocketknife.
But before she set him free, she opened his door, left it hanging forward before the water pressure could seal it shut. More water rushed in at the bottom.
She was running out of time.
Quickly she sawed through his shoulder strap. Though she prepared to catch Will, his dead weight fell forward on her and smashed her against the dashboard, the yoke gouging into her back. The blow knocked the air from her lungs. She worked to push his head above the waterline.
Now to get him out. They were going to make it. She could do this. Sylvie slipped by him in the small space then tugged him out into the water. She’d swim him to shore, keeping his head high. This was lifeguard 101, and was actually much easier to do with an unconscious victim than one who was awake and struggling.
With regret, she left her diving equipment in the plane to save Will. She wouldn’t think ahead, wouldn’t concern herself with what to do, until she made it to shore. She positioned him on his back and hooked her arms under his armpits. On her back, she swam them to shore. She tried to keep her thoughts from what she might face—the immediate danger of exposure to the elements—and instead focused on what she could do. After all, two men had tried to kill her, and this seemed small in comparison.
She could swim.
Had been born with a natural affinity for water.
You’re in your element, Sylvie.
Just breathe. Swim. Save Will.
Regardless of her attempts at self-assurance, feeble though they were, fear twisted inside, corded in the sinews of her muscles. She hadn’t expected things to turn this way. Hadn’t expected to face death twice in one day.
Bad enough someone had tried to kill her. Worse, she’d almost died in a plane crash like her mother. Though she’d admit that Will’s plane—and Will himself—had saved her the first part of the day. And Will would be sick about the loss once he woke up.
He would wake up.
He had to wake up.
Her back scraped across pebbles and sand and rocks. Ignoring the pain, she dragged Will the rest of the way onto a small strip of sand. Sylvie examined his head then the rest of him. She could see no other injury besides the gash in his head that was no longer bleeding so profusely. Hopefully, it would stop soon. She had nothing with which to staunch the flow.
She could swim back and get a first-aid kit from the plane before it sank. Or her scuba equipment! But her body was too cold. It wouldn’t be safe. She might not make it back.
She held his face in her hands. “Will, can you hear me?”
He’d lost his ball cap in the melee, and his hair was thicker than she’d initially thought. He had a jutting chin on a nice strong jaw. She felt strange holding his face, touching him like this. It seemed entirely too intimate with someone who was practically a stranger, but this was a matter of life and death. She didn’t think he would care. She wished he would open his eyes—those warm brown eyes. Though she hadn’t appreciated his questions or his humor at first, the warmth in his tone had comforted her when she’d needed it.
“Will,” she whispered. “If you’ll wake up, I might just agree to fly again.”
But Will didn’t respond. The cold water hadn’t shocked him awake like she would have expected. It had shocked her system, though, and she was shivering even now. She released his face, hating that his color wasn’t good. Looking at the thick temperate rain forest behind her and across the water on the other side, she studied the mountains peaking above the treetops in the distance.
She knew enough about the geography to believe they were somewhere south, way south of Juneau. Far enough that it might as well have been a thousand miles. Sylvie dropped to where the water lapped and pressed her head into her knees.
Just what was she supposed to do now?
Cold prickles stung his face. Shivering, Will opened his eyes to raindrops bombarding him, along with what felt like an anvil pounding his temples.
Where am I?
His mind raced, competing with his pulse as he pushed up and caught sight of the woman sitting next to him, face pressed against her knees. Guilt tackled him. Though his mind was fuzzy, he somehow knew he’d failed her.
“Sylvie.” He reached over and pressed his hand against her arm. “Are you okay?”
Lifting her head, she turned to face him, her hazel eyes drawing him in. “Will, I’m so glad... I thought you were...”
Will couldn’t understand why she was still here. She was going to die if she didn’t get someplace warm. He would, too, for that matter. They’d both been soaked to the bone, and right now the temperature wasn’t much different on the ground than in the water. It was his fault she was here now. Somehow it was his fault. But his mind still struggled to understand.
Think, Will, think.
Then the all-too-fresh memories rolled over him. “How long have I been out?”
She lifted her shoulders as if called to action. “Not that long. The plane...” Sylvie looked out to the water.
Will followed her gaze. He
