Alex's Atonement (Midnight Sons Book 2) Page 3

  “At least I get to choose my last act on earth.” Alex turned the ignition. A small part of him had hoped it wouldn’t start. But it did. Another sign this was his destiny. He smiled as the plane parted the mist and lifted into the air. “Today, I’ll be the hero I set out to be, Dad.”

  ~ Irene ~

  The plane lifted, and Irene gripped the armrests. Her freshly manicured nails dug into the soft leather as the plane jogged higher and higher. All she saw was white stuff rushing past the side window.

  Fog? Snow? Probably a mixture of both. How could pilots see in this dense haze?

  As the plane lifted and banked left, some of the cloud cover dissipated, allowing her to appreciate the Kenai Peninsula in all its glory. The way the mountains rose up right next to the Gulf of Alaska was breathtaking. There simply wasn’t a better word to describe it. Sure, she’d enjoyed California. But Alaska was majestic. Why hadn’t she realized how beautiful life was, before she was faced with losing it?

  She gazed down at the glaciers and the snow-capped Kenai Mountains. Shook her head at the crab boats that were heading out into the icy waters. Her father had counseled many a parent or wife after losing a child or husband to the dangerous job.

  Wait a second … Why was the plane heading southeast? Saint Paul was southwest, in the Bering Sea. She clicked the intercom on her headset. “Excuse me … Umm … I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Kevin,” the pilot said curtly.

  She resisted laughing. Man, this guy was a jerk. Maybe I remind him of an old girlfriend or something. “Did I do something to upset you, Kevin?”

  He tossed a look over his shoulder and actually smiled — well, grimaced would be a more accurate description. The plane wasn’t the least bit warm, and yet, a bead of sweat dotted his forehead. “No, you’re fine. I’m just really tired. It’s been a long week.”

  “No problem. I understand bad days.” He hadn’t offered an apology, but at least she could let him know that she understood things not going well. She’d certainly had her share of bad days on the job. On occasion, she had taken her frustrations out on an innocent intern or two, since that’s how she’d been treated when she was interning. “But I do have a question, Kevin. Aren’t we supposed to be heading southwest?”

  He turned and glared at her, the full weight of his aggravation seemingly bubbling to the surface again. “I wasn’t aware that you were a pilot.” He didn’t smile off his comment, just furrowed his brows.

  Of all the nerve, she growled internally. Bad week or not, there was no need to be all snippy just because she’d asked a question. “I’m not a pilot, obviously, or I wouldn’t have paid you a thousand dollars to fly me to Saint Paul Island.” She furrowed her brows, giving him her best I’m-the-customer look. “If you don’t want to take me, you can turn around right now, and I’ll find someone else.”

  Alex’s broad smile popped into her mind. She was sure he would be happy to fly her home. Who knew … if she’d chosen Alex to fly her, they might have been able to put the plane on autopilot, and she could have actually added an adventure to her bucket list. Her anger dissipated slightly with that thought … and flashbacks of the previous evening. Just the thought of his large hands had her body heating up, which was nice since it was so flipping cold.

  Kevin faced forward without any reaction to her statement. Good. She didn’t need his sourpuss face ruining her memories.

  A second later, Kevin’s voice came over the headset. “There’s a storm brewing over the Alaska Peninsula. I’m heading south a ways, then I’ll circle back.”

  Was that so hard? He still hadn’t apologized for being such a jerk, but maybe she’d been wrong to question him. “Thank you, Kevin.”

  No response.

  Remembering that she’d decided never to waste time on idiots again, Irene redirected her thoughts and eyes to the churning waters of the North Pacific. The plane was flying low, so near to the ocean that she was able to spot a pod of whales. As much as she wanted to ask why, she decided not to question him again. Maybe he was trying to avoid the cloud cover. Although, now that they were off the coast, she couldn’t see any sign of a storm.

  So why is the plane still heading southeast? Her career as a journalist had taught her to ask questions, but she didn’t want to upset him further.

  Deciding to hold her tongue, she pulled out her phone. No signal, of course. If he’d flown over the peninsula, there would have been. She opened her Words2 app and started a practice game. She’d become an expert over the last six months. After all, what else is there to do when you’re too sick to get out of bed?

  Irene lifted her hand to block a glint of light that nearly blinded her.

  “Wait.” The plane hadn’t turned, so what could have reflected that light? She stared out the window again, then blinked. She clicked the intercom. “What the heck is that?” The pilot ignored her, but yes, they were clearly dropping altitude, and there was a tower of some sort. “What the hell are you doing? You’re going to crash us!”

  “Shut up!” he shouted.

  Irene gripped the armrests again. He was trying to land. She peered out the window, looking for smoke or fire … a missing wing … any signs there was something wrong with the plane.

  Seagulls, millions of them, parted as the plane careened toward the island. Below them, seals fled the snow-covered beach for the open water. There were no trees, but the island was dotted with plenty of cliffs, a rusted ship, and crumbling metal buildings. None of which she wanted to hit.

  And waves. Giant waves. And this son of a bitch was trying to land.

  Irene released her death grip long enough to click the mic again. “I don’t understand. Are we in trouble?” The plane banked sideways, and Irene was sure she was going to lose the contents of her stomach as she stared straight down at the monstrous waves crashing against the rocky beach. “Oh, my God! What’s happening?”

  The pilot tore off his headset. His hands gripped the yoke. She couldn’t tell if he was pulling, pushing, or turning, but his knuckles were white as he struggled to maintain control. An artery bulged at his temple that matched her heartbeat.

  She was going to die … not of cancer, as she’d fretted for the last year, but in a fireball. At least it’d be quick. Better than throwing up all day, losing all her hair, and withering away to nothing if the cancer returned.

  But I don’t want to die. Not when I’ve just learned to live.

  She stared down at the raging waters again, not sure if she should hope for the plane to hit the water or land. If they hit the water, they wouldn’t last long in the icy seawater. If they hit the beach, there were sure to be rocks beneath the snow. Which death would be the least painful? Which one did she have a better chance of surviving?

  Not that it mattered what she hoped for, Kevin was going to do whatever he damn well pleased.

  Of all the stinking luck! She tore off her headset too. “Damn you, Kevin! I didn’t survive a cancer diagnosis to die in an airplane crash! I thought you came this way to avoid the storm!”

  “Pipe down, lady!”

  He was right. She shouldn’t distract him. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the phosphenes caused bright white streaks to stab her brain. Not liking the sensation and unable to take not knowing how she would die, she snapped her lids open again.

  The view was all wrong. What was she looking at? Fog? Whitecaps? No! Ice!

  The plane was heading straight toward a cliff!

  “Oh, God!” A shrill scratch and snap drowned out her screams. The seatbelt strained to hold her in place. Her stomach plunged as the plane dropped, then twisted, as if some gigantic hand had picked it up and propelled it in the opposite direction.

  She no longer saw blue sky or white-capped waves rushing past the side window. Instead, she saw nothing. Blackness.

  Rocks or ice, she wasn’t sure, clawed at the window, begging to enter the plane like a stray pup. They were no longer flying. The plane was falling … or rather,
sliding.

  Around her, metal shook and rattled. High-pitched screeching sounds pierced the air as a biting wind chilled her to the bone. She lifted her hands to her ears to shield them, but then remembered all the occasions flight attendants had demonstrated what to do in the event of a crash. How many times had she tuned out their rote emergency procedures? Hundreds?

  No overhead compartments had dropped oxygen masks, and she hadn’t seen any flotation devices, so the only thing left to do was bend over and cover her head.

  Just as she bent forward, the plane slammed to a stop. The seatbelt felt like it had slashed her in two. Something hard knocked her arm, then another flying missile soared past her, scraping the side of her head as it rushed toward the front of the plane. Before she could determine if she was bleeding or in one piece, the plane jolted, then soared backward.

  She felt like she was riding one of those roller coasters that come to a fake stop, then started up again, only to thrust you into another loop-de-loop. Through the cockpit window, she watched the blue sky fade away as mud and rocks battered the nose of the aircraft. Up and down, the plane jostled her as it bounced.

  Without warning, the plane came to another full stop with a boom. Her body rocketed forward and back, and then her world went black.

  Chapter 3

  ~ Alex ~

  As soon as Alex left the coast, he unlatched the side window and tossed out the radio. He didn’t want to leave himself an opportunity to call for help.

  Typically when he was in the air, he had a voice in his ear, or his attention had to be on finding wreckage or a lost soul.

  Not today. Today, he’d enjoy his last flight. Until he ran out of fuel, that is. It would take every bit of courage he could muster not to bring the seaplane down safely once he ran out of gas. He would have to force himself to override his preservation instincts and let the plane drop from the sky.

  He flew south, avoiding the more trafficked area over the Alaska Peninsula. As much as another night with Irene appealed to him, she obviously wasn’t interested. And even if she was, he couldn’t do that to her. Instead of heading southwest, the way she’d pointed, he set his course for open water. After Cordova, he pretty much had wide-open space. He’d fly low and enjoy the sights for once.

  Only one island sat below Cordova: Middleton. But he’d steer far from it this time of the year. He didn’t intend to wash up on a deserted isle.

  Unlike the island in Castaway, Alaska’s uninhabited islands were deadly. If you didn’t die from lack of food, exposure would kill you. Although the mean temperatures hovered in the forties, it wasn’t uncommon to drop into the single digits overnight. The wind was the worst though; gusts from 75 to 145 mph weren’t unusual.

  “Nope, no Survivor Man for me. I’d rather be knocked out from hitting the water. I may be willing to die, but I don’t want to be in pain.”

  Just as he said the words, a flash of light glinted across his windshield.

  “Oh, for God’s sake. It can’t be. It’s just that shipwreck from 1919,” he said aloud, hoping to convince himself. The reef-lined waters around Middleton Island were deadly. With all the technical gadgets, though, ships rarely beached anymore unless they had to.

  He failed at his attempt to convince himself; the rescuer in him couldn’t fly by without checking. Knowing how deadly the waves and winds were south of the island, he headed for the west side, but then he got a better look at what had caught his eye.

  “Damn! Double damn!”

  He banked east. It was dangerous, but he didn’t have a choice.

  “What on God’s great earth would possess a pilot to attempt to land in the winter?”

  Thankfully, no smoke poured from the plane, but there was no doubt it was a fresh wreck. The cliff face that had torn off the wing was devoid of snow where the plane had slid down the fifty-foot cliff and landed on the beach. The pilot must have been attempting to find the runway, but then a gust of wind swept the plane into the cliff.

  Alex searched for a section of beach without tumultuous waves. There weren’t many choices. One small bay behind the wreckage looked promising. He’d have a short hike, but better to live long enough to offer help than to die trying to land.

  He glanced up at the sky, where Sam’s plane was probably flying overhead at this moment. “See, Sam, I think before I leap now.”

  Alex reached for his radio to call in his coordinates, then stopped when his hand reached nothing but air. “Oh, that’s right. I’m supposed to be killing myself, not rescuing someone. And what if no one’s in the wreckage? What if you’re wrong?” He shook his head at his idiocy. “If you land, you won’t have enough fuel to take off again, and then you’ll be stuck on this godforsaken island.”

  He released a long exhale, trying to convince himself that he was wrong, that it wasn’t a recent crash. But he could lie to others; he couldn’t lie to himself. The crash was new.

  And since he hadn’t received a search-and-rescue call this morning, more than likely he was the only one who knew about it. So he had to help.

  As he neared the wreck, he blinked a couple of times, hoping his eyes were betraying him. But no, he had perfect vision. The damn plane was sinking.

  He didn’t have time to overthink the rescue. If there were any survivors, they wouldn’t last long in the icy water.

  “Dear God, are you punishing me? Couldn’t let me have an easy death, could you?”

  Thankfully, he’d already been flying low. He made a wide arc, then brought the plane down as close to the wreckage as was possible.

  Only a few hundred feet offshore, he looked left and right repeatedly, watching for rogue waves as he taxied toward the beach.

  “Please, God, just don’t let there be exposed reefs. I don’t want to be sliced alive and end up shark food. I was willing to die for my sins, but is there something wrong with wanting to go silently … unconsciously?” The back of the plane lifted as a wave moved toward the shore. “It’s now or never, Alex! You don’t want a wave to throw you on shore.” He pushed forward, literally surfing onto the shore. “Hang ten!” he shouted. “I might not get to Cali, but I can surf!”

  The wave propelled the plane onto the beach, and Alex hopped out, immediately anchoring it down. No trees were available, but a large boulder on the beach wasn’t going anywhere. He darted back inside for another safety line, ax, and his rescue pack, which held his first-aid kit and other critical gear, then took off toward the downed plane.

  Had to be a top-of-the-line Kodiak. Big sucker. Heavy.

  “Hello!” he shouted over the din of seagulls and fur seals. Between the squawking and barking, he couldn’t have heard if ten people were screaming. Still, he knew that in life-and-death situations, people panicked. Hearing there was help on the way would give them hope. “Hang on! I’m on my way.”

  No one answered, but he had no doubt it was a fresh wreck. The strong scent of gasoline and oil filled the air.

  He pushed his legs, but the soft sand made him feel like he was running in a dream, like the nightmares he’d had about his father’s death. No matter how many times he’d tried to rewrite the past, every night he tried to move through the waist-deep snow. He’d dig and dig and dig until his hands stung so severely from the cold he couldn’t feel them.

  Now he was digging through seaweed, rocks, and sticks. He hadn’t dressed for a rescue, so he wasn’t wearing his boots or waders. His feet were numb, but he persisted.

  A few yards from the plane, his fears were confirmed. It was slow, but the liquefaction was causing the aircraft to sink. One large wave would knock it loose, sending it out to sea.

  He glanced up and down the beach for something to use as an anchor. No trees or large enough boulders were within reach. The plane had created a wide trough as it slid down the embankment.

  Alex glanced skyward. “Really? This is how you want me to go?” No way did he want to crawl inside a sinking plane. Crashing and being knocked out was one thing, drowning in san
d and water was an entirely different story. Talk about nightmares.

  The cliff face had shredded the wing, creating a hole in the fuselage, which unfortunately wasn’t large enough to crawl through.

  “Anyone inside?” he called, making sure no one was on the other side trying to get out before he axed his way inside. “What are you doing, Alex?” he berated himself again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, but Sam wasn’t here, so who else would tell him he was putting his life in danger?

  “If that plane shifts, it’ll pull you in with it,” he mimicked Sam.

  He hopped up on the skid and swung the pick edge of the fireman’s ax into the seam of the door and pried open a gap.

  “Hello!” He swung again, pried again. The words Heeere’s Johnny threatened to pop out of his mouth, but if there were any survivors inside, he didn’t want them to think he was some deranged psycho and shoot him.

  Repeatedly, he clawed at the hatch until the door broke free. He popped his head inside. The pilot was on his back. The seat had bent backward, and the innards and controls of the cockpit had him pinned. Blood trickled down the man’s face. That was a good sign. If he was still bleeding, his heart was more than likely still pumping.

  The contents of the cargo hold looked to have piled up in the front of the plane.

  Alex pulled himself up further to check for passengers. They would be his first concern; the pilot would be last.

  He saw only one arm flung over an armrest. “At least I don’t have to drag ten people out.” He carefully pulled himself into the plane, trying not to jostle it.

  Before he could take a step toward the passenger, the plane shifted, causing one of the suitcases to fall in the cockpit.

  “Oh!” cried a woman in response to the loud bang. “Oh, God! Help!”

  The sound of the woman clawing at the seatbelt tore at his heart. It amazed him how often people couldn’t think in life-threatening situations. Something as simple as unlatching a seatbelt was nearly impossible. “I’m coming, ma’am, but the plane is —” Her head popped up, and Alex gasped. “Irene.” The missing Kodiak he’d been eyeing. How the hell had the pilot ended up in the middle of the gulf? Irene had said she was heading to Saint Paul.