Chapter 7

Joss sat up, mindlessly rubbing the pain over her right eye. It took her a moment or two to process where she was. She must have been knocked unconscious and wondered how long she was out. She heard quiet moans around her, in the pitch black, the small aircraft rocking in the ocean current. With little concern for her own injuries, she felt compelled to check on the others, to assess the situation. She prayed there were no casualties.

“Ryan? Ryan?” she croaked, reaching out to touch him.

He groaned quietly, grasping her hand in the dark, “I’m ok.”

“Are you sure? Any broken bones? Blood?”

“I don’t think so. My heart is racing about 90 miles an hour though,” he sputtered, squeezing her fingers for reassurance.

“Can you move?” she asked, pulling her hand free to unbuckle her seat belt. They didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger, no fire, and no water filling the cabin. At least that was something.

“Ya, I think I can.”

“Good, do you have your cell phone handy? I could use some light.”

“Hang on,” he grunted, as though fishing it out of his pocket. He turned it on, filling the cabin with dim light. Joss saw his face and breathed a sigh of relief. He appeared unharmed. She motioned for him to hold up the light then shimmied out of her seat, shoving her bag on the empty chair in front of her.

“Sir, are you ok?” she called out to the man across from her. He appeared unconscious. Joss moved toward him and cradled his head in her hand, checking for a pulse. She was worried about whip lash, or worse a broken neck, but as soon as she used her thumbs to open his eyelids, he stirred and moved his head on his own accord. She let out a sigh of relief.

“What happened?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching hers.

“We seem to have made an emergency landing. It was hard. What’s your name?”

“Charles ... Reid. Are we sinking?”

“No, I think we’re ok. Do you have any pain?” she asked soberly, checking him all over.

“Nothing too serious, I don’t think. A bit nauseous,” he admitted. She wasn’t surprised. The plane was thrashing back and forth in the waves, making her dangerously close to hurling herself.

“Are you a Doctor?” he asked hopefully, as she ran her hands over his limbs. She was checking for fractures.

“No. I have medical training though,” she admitted, hastily brushing her damp hair out of her eyes.

“That’s good enough for me. Can I help?”

“I’m just going to check on the others. If you feel well enough, can you go up front and see how Captain Grant is doing? Maybe check for an emergency kit. A flashlight. First Aid,” she instructed, looking back at Ryan.

“Can you follow me with the light?” she instructed, gesturing for him to follow. He nodded and peeled himself out of his chair. They both helped Charles stand and waited for him to make his way up the aisle.

The next passenger, the fellow she’d likened to Clark Kent, looked up at Joss blankly, as though in shock.

“Hi,” she spoke gently, “I’m Joss. Can you tell me your name?” He nodded his head but offered no reply.

“Are you ok?”

He nodded again and cleared his throat. “I think so. Daniel,” he choked, raising a hand to the back of his head. Joss was surprised by the British accent. She carefully examined him, concerned that he might be in shock. He was shivering uncontrollably. She quickly went back to her seat, balancing herself against the violent motions, and retrieved her wrap, returning to cover him with it.

“We need to get out of here,” he insisted anxiously, pulling the wrap tighter around himself.

“It’s ok, Daniel. We’re ok. Just keep your breathing steady, in and out, nice and slow, okay?”

He nodded at her, his eyes wide with concern, his teeth chattering violently. She would need to check back on him in a few minutes. She wished she could lay him down and elevate his legs, but there just wasn’t any room.

“I’ll be back. Yell out if you feel dizzy or faint,” she instructed, gently massaging his shoulder for reassurance. Ryan stepped out of her way as she continued down the aisle.

“Joss?” Charles called her. He had a flashlight in his hand and shone it down the aisle in her direction. “It’s the captain. He doesn’t look good.”

“Is he breathing?” she choked, anxious to get to the cockpit and assess him herself. “I don’t know. I think so. There’s a lot of blood.”

“Coming,” she called out, turning to Ryan. “Will you check on the man in the front row?”

“Yes, go. I got it,” Ryan assured, urging her down the aisle. Joss went as fast as she safely could, stepping over obstacles blocking her way. She quickly glanced at the large black man in the front row. She couldn’t see clearly, but he appeared to be moving, which made her feel a little better.

She traded places with Charles, to examine the captain herself. He had a large gash on his head and was unconscious. She checked for a pulse. It was weak and thready, and she knew she had to get his feet elevated as soon as possible, before she could deal with the head gash.

“Charles, clear a path, help me lay him down,” Joss barked, wasting no time on pleasantries. He did as she asked without hesitation and they made quick work of attending to him. She raised his feet, hastily looking around for something to cover him. As though anticipating her needs, Charles hurried back to his seat, returning with his suit jacket.

“Will this work?” he asked, handing it to her.

“Perfect. Did you find a first-aid kit?” she enquired, looking up at him with gratitude. She covered her patient, wrapping the jacket around him tightly. He’d still not gained consciousness, but his breathing had become steadier. She felt encouraged by that.

“Yes, it’s here,” he coughed, handing it to her. She looked up at him, suddenly worried about him. She took the tin box from his hand, instructing him to sit down. He sat in the pilot seat, rotating the chair toward her.

“Are you ok, Charles? You’re looking a little unsteady?”

He gave her a thumbs up, as though unwilling to distract her. She returned to the captain and assessed his head wound. It was deep. She looked around for something to clean the wound.

“Hand me that water bottle, over in the cup holder,” she insisted, gesturing toward it. Charles quickly retrieved it and she unscrewed the cap with her teeth, pouring water over the wound to clean it out. She gently put pressure on it with her palm, desperate to stop the bleeding. He needed stitches. Opening the first aid kit, she searched for a suture kit but had to settle for bandages instead.

“Can I help?”

Joss looked up into a pair of kind, caramel eyes. It was the last passenger, the one she’d bypassed. His tone was reassuringly calm, and he quickly set her at ease.

“Are you afraid of blood?” she asked, shifting over to make room for him. It was a tight squeeze, but she needed the extra pair of hands.

“No, Ma’am,” he assured, crouching beside her. He gently placed his dark hand over hers. She allowed him to take over, slipping out from beneath him.

“Here, put some pressure on it. Like this...” she placed her hand over his and pressed down, showing him how much she was looking for. He looked up at her and nodded, as though he appreciated the brief, reassuring touch. She smiled back, comforted by him as well.

After Joss had the captain bandaged and stable, she finally allowed herself to sit down. She took a long pull off her water and looked at the men around her, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. They had huddled together, closer to her, and one another, as though they needed the connection. Although frightened, they all appeared well. She had been so busy taking care of business that she never even considered how lucky they were the plane was still intact, that they were all alive.

“What do we do now?” Ryan asked quietly. She looked up and saw all eyes on her, waiting for her to speak.

“We wait,” she whispered, listening to the rain pelting against the roof of the aircraft. “Someone will come.”