contacts said it had been a particularly intense blast, but so far no bodies had been discovered.
The people at the Ranch knew it wouldn’t stay that way.
30
I.D. MINUS 17 HOURS 42 MINUTES
BLUEBIRD TIME 5:18 PM
Ash would never again complain about the cold. Forget fire. The frigid Arctic was the true Hell.
“There it is,” Gagnon said.
Ash peered out the windshield and could just make out the lump of Yanok Island on the horizon through the near perpetual darkness of late afternoon. They were flying low in hopes of keeping their arrival a surprise, the ocean a mere thirty feet below the bottom of the plane.
Before leaving Grise Fiord, Ash and Gagnon had gone over the map and decided their best approach would be from the southwest, the opposite end of the island from where the research station was located. Gagnon felt confident he could get the plane into the small inlet that was located at that point, and bring the team all the way up to the land. Ash was all for that. Anything that ensured solid ground under his feet was a good idea.
The closer they got to the island, the lower Gagnon took the plane, until it finally felt like they were just inches above the surface. As the pilot had warned them, the ice that had been missing from this part of the ocean only a week earlier had started to make its return, and the sea around Yanok was crusting over. The problem was, in some places it was barely an inch thick, while in others it was already over a foot.
“Hold on,” Gagnon said. “This might be rough.”
There was a handle next to Ash just below the window. He wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed tightly. He didn’t look in back to see how Chloe and Red were doing, but he doubted they were any more comfortable with this than he was.
With the island still half a mile away, Gagnon lowered the plane onto the ice. As smooth as it looked from even a height of ten feet above, it wasn’t. The craft jumped and lurched as it whipped across the frozen ocean. At one point, it leaped into the air for several feet before slamming back onto the surface. Still, the plane raced ahead.
“Shouldn’t we be slowing?” Ash asked, his voice raised above the roar coming from outside.
“Working on it,” Gagnon said.
With a bang, the right side of the plane raised into the air, the skid on that side having hit an uneven spot on the ice.
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Red called out from the back.
For a second it seemed like the plane was going to right itself, but then a gust of frigid wind caught the underside. The opposite wingtip dug into the ice, pivoting the plane briefly into the air before the craft smashed down on its back.
It skidded forward, twisting around and around.
Ash and the others hung upside down, caught in their seats by their straps and unable to do anything as the plane slid across the ice. He had no idea which direction they were heading. He only hoped it wasn’t toward an area of open sea.
The wind and the engine and screeching of metal on ice blended together in a cacophony of chaos.
Someone yelled from the back, but whatever they were trying to say, Ash couldn’t make it out. He tried to look back, but quickly gave up. The plane was jumping around too much, and all he ended up doing was knocking his head against the seat.
“Just hang on!” he yelled, knowing that wasn’t much help.
A loud bang, then a groan from the right side of the plane. Their speed rapidly decreased and the spin nearly stopped. Ash turned his head enough so he could peer out the window. The wing on his side had apparently hit something and was now at a different angle to the plane than it had been earlier. If the crash itself had not already made the aircraft worthless, the damage done to the wing did. Ash knew it would never fly again.
Their speed continued dropping, until finally their forward motion stopped altogether. The plane turned slowly for several seconds more, eating through the last bit of momentum.
The only noise now was the wind.
Ash caught his breath, and looked over at Gagnon. The pilot hung in his seat, unconscious.
“Anyone hurt?” Ash called to the back.
There was a pause, then Red said, “Just a cut on the side of my head. I think I’m okay.”
“Chloe?”
“What?” she said.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m hanging upside down in a plane in the middle of the Arctic Ocean. No, I’m not all right. I want to get out!”
He had forgotten about her bouts of claustrophobia. “Out is a great idea. Careful when you unhook yourselves. First one out, make sure to check the ice first. I don’t want anyone falling through.”
There were grunts and groans from the back as the other two released themselves from their seats.
Ash used one hand to pull himself as tight to his seat as possible, then unhooked the belt with the other. Freed, he twisted as he fell so that he landed on his back. He flipped around and crawled over to Gagnon.
He felt for a pulse. The man was alive, but Ash didn’t like the way he was breathing. He checked the pilot for any obvious wounds, and found a nasty gash on the man’s leg and at least two broken ribs. Ash couldn’t be certain, but he was willing to bet one of them had punctured a lung.
He tried to wake up Gagnon, but the most he got was a groan.
Cold air suddenly rushed into the cabin as someone opened the door. Ash could hear the person hop out onto the metal underside of the wing.
“Looks pretty thick here,” Chloe called out.
Ash twisted around. “Can you see the island? How far are we?”
“Hold on. Let me check.” Several seconds passed, then, “Can’t make a damn thing out in the dark. Red, can you find me the night vision binoculars?”
“Sure.”
Red rummaged around one of the packs that had fallen onto the roof, and handed the glasses out the door.
“Thanks,” Chloe said.
“Red,” Ash said. “Come up here. I could use your help.”
Together they eased Gagnon out of his seat and laid him down on an open area of the ceiling.
“First-aid kit,” Ash said.
Red quickly retrieved it.
Ash cleaned up Red’s face first and slapped a butterfly bandage across the cut. Then they turned their attention to Gagnon. As they were patching up the pilot, Chloe returned to the doorway.
“Found it,” she said. “The plane’s facing away from it.”
“How far?” Ash asked.
“At least half a mile.”
A half-mile on its own didn’t sound like much, but across the ice of the Arctic Ocean, in the wind and cold and dark? It sounded like forever.
“Okay, you and Red get the gear out. We’ll also need to make a stretcher.”
He finished up with Gagnon while the other two unloaded the plane. For the stretcher, they worked off a loose piece of sheeting from the wing, and attached ropes to it so they could pull it along the ground. To keep Gagnon from freezing against the metal, they lined it with the carpet from the cabin, and one of the spare jackets.
They headed out.
