Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
I give him a tight nod, trying to assure him.
I’m okay. We’re okay.
It’ll be bumpy and terrifying. I’ll probably throw up. But we’ll get through this.
When he turns back to Leo, I grip the armrests, burying my fingernails into the vibrating metal, as if I can somehow anchor myself, keep the plane steady through sheer will. But the truth is evident in every violent, jarring tremor.
We’re not in control.
The storm’s rapid assault and raw power feed on the air, growing larger and more ferocious with each passing minute. Too soon, it bears down on us, gripping our little aircraft and shaking it back and forth.
Every bump shoves my stomach to my throat. The dips are the worst, when my heart stops, suspended in free fall, before the plane catches itself, only to be thrown into another breathless descent.
The instrument panel comes alive with flashing lights and warnings. I don’t understand all the gauges and dials, but I recognize the urgency in their behavior.
The altimeter needle bounces as if in panic, reflecting our rapid ascents and descents. Other lights flicker—a blaring red that screams danger.
Leo glances at them and tightens his grip on the controls.
“You can do this!” Encouragement pours from me, even if it’s a one-sided conversation. “Talk to him, Kody!”
The bond between them, their unspoken language, will keep him focused. Their lips are moving, communicating. They’re working together. Not panicking.
Unlike me.
Panic sets my heart ablaze. Every muscle in my body tenses, ready for the slightest jolt, but when the jolts come, I’m not ready. I scream, my voice raw with emotion.
The world beyond the window sweeps by in a blur of wind and gray clouds.
How can Leo see anything?
He can’t.
I close my eyes against it, trying to find some semblance of peace in the darkness behind my lids, but the relentless motion of the plane, being smacked and tossed by the storm, won’t let me escape.
Then I hear it.
The pelt of ice against the steel body, hitting us in vicious waves.
I open my eyes to a whiteout, sudden and complete, erasing the line between sky and earth with no end in sight.
The cockpit illuminates with the erratic dance of lights flashing across the instrument panel.
Leo battles against the torrential sleet, his efforts to outrun it carved in the set of his jaw. But the late winter blizzard fights back, its whipping winds dragging us downward at stomach-sinking speeds.
“Watch the trees!” I can’t see them, but I know they’re there. “Go higher! Higher! Oh, God, please, don’t crash! Don’t crash! Don’t crash!”
Terror explodes from me, my shouts tumbling into the chaos, unable to influence the outcome.
A buzzer sounds, a harsh, grating screech that pierces the air, signaling an emergency within the plane’s many systems.
Leo adjusts knobs and switches with a reflex that attests to his deep dive into the manuals and crash course in aviation.
I’m scared. So fucking sick with fear that every shiver hits my nerves like a pickax.
But through it all, Leo’s composure remains tightly controlled. His jaw is clenched, the muscles in his neck taut with the effort. His hands grip the controls with the steadiness of an experienced pilot.
He hides his fear well, trying to shield us from it, but I see his gaze darting to the instrument panel and the brief flickers of doubt crossing his face.
I should’ve told him I love him rather than holding it back until we land. What if I’m never able to say it to him again?
As I brace against another jolt, I swallow hard, repeatedly trying to moisten my dry throat and keep the tears at bay.
Leo’s fighting not just for his life but for all of ours. Piloting a plane without training is a monumental undertaking in perfect conditions. But this?
This is fucking inconceivable.
In the dim, flickering light of the cockpit, amid the mayhem of alarms and warnings, his resolve is exquisite, his ferocious profile a mask of calm concentration.
Kody, hidden by the seat, reaches back, his hand finding mine. Our fingers entwine, and the plane plunges again.
“We’re going to crash,” I whisper, my blood violently pumping, rushing to my heart.
I feel the strain on the aircraft, the way it fights against the wind’s merciless push and pull. The tension in the cabin thickens into a cloud of held breaths and unsaid prayers.
I can’t see the ground, but I feel it, the trees rushing up to meet us, their branches clawing at our underbelly, cleaving away vital parts as we fall.
Tears stream down my face, the terror overwhelming as I squeeze Kody’s hand and scream.
Impact.
Metal explodes in sound and fury, the bending of steel, the rending of trees. The plane shudders, breaking apart, each jolt a hammer blow, sharp and deadly.
As the cockpit rips away, taking my entire world with it, something strikes my head.
Blinding pain.
Sudden silence.
The terror yields to darkness.