Eternal Youth (13 page)

Callie wanted to burst into tears.
We’re going to be okay.

One of the men crouched and pushed Emma aside. “We got her. Get yourselves out, and we’ll be right behind you.”

More hands were offered, and Emma waited until both Nailah and Callie had been pulled to safety before she let someone help her out.

“Just slide down the side of the plane,” one man barked, giving Callie a gentle push.

She followed his orders, hurrying across the slippery metal. The plane rested in the middle of a clearing surrounded on all sides by tree line. Callie could see heavy, black smoke billowing from the back of the plane. It spurred her on. She came to the edge, sat on her bottom, and pushed off.

The fall shook her to her core. It reminded her of the crash: that unstoppable sensation of free-fall. She hit the ground hard on her feet and cried out as pain knifed up her leg. She fell forward to her hands and knees just a moment before Nailah landed next to her.

The other girl gripped Callie around the waist and pulled her to her feet. “We need to get away from the plane,” Nailah told her. She took Callie’s arm and pulled it around her thin shoulders. “You’re hurt. Lean on me.”

“But, Gran!” Callie cried.

“The men have her, Calista.” Nailah didn’t release her grip as she helped Callie hobble quickly through the trees.

A group of survivors waited just beyond the tree line. Some stood, staring numbly at the wreckage in the clearing, while some sat or lay on the ground, unmoving and pale. There was blood everywhere: on faces, on the ground. The sharp nub of a bone poked through one man’s arm. The sight made Callie retch.

When Emma stumbled across the field with the men carrying Gran right behind her, Callie fell to her knees. She sat and waited, the grass soft beneath her fingers, the dirt cool.
Earth is beautiful
, Callie thought, so aware of the stable, steady ground beneath her that she almost felt spiritual.

Emma fell to the ground beside her daughter. She had one hand pressed tightly to the place where her scalp still bled. Her eyes were a little unfocused, and Callie worried she might be concussed.

Callie threw her arms around her mother; she couldn’t even cry. She was probably in shock. “Mom, your head. You need a doctor.”

“I’m fine. Head wounds always bleed a lot.”

Nailah crouched beside them and put a hand to Callie’s back as the men gently placed Gran on the ground nearby.

“Is she with you?” The voice came from a kindly older woman with her gray hair falling limply from what was once a pristine bun. “I’m a registered nurse. I’d like to help.”

“Yes, please,” Emma said, her voice cracking.

Callie gripped her mother’s hand tightly as the woman knelt next to Gran.

“Callie, your grandmother has to be okay. I can’t handle anymore loss.” Her mom’s voice was weak.

“Gran’s strong,” Callie told her.

Callie had no idea how long the entire ordeal lasted. The last group of people to cross the field were the six men who had helped everyone escape. They came to a stop before the ragged group of survivors.

“How many are accounted for?” the older man—who had seemed to take charge—asked, his voice out of place in the noises of the forest. Callie was only beginning to notice the chirp of the birds and the warm, salty breeze that rushed through the trees.

A young, skinny man with bright red hair stepped forward to count. Everyone was still as he did. “Twenty-five.”

“How many were aboard the plane, Miss?” the older man turned his gaze to the stewardess.

Only one of the two flight attendants had survived. She looked shell-shocked, seated on the ground in her blue airline uniform with her golden blonde hair in disarray. She had to clear her throat several times before she could speak. “Fifty. Not including myself and the pilot and co-pilot.” She paused before she choked out, “And the other flight attendant.”

“Fifty-four.” The older man was silent. “We’ve lost twenty-nine.”

“What about the pilots?” Emma asked, her voice a bit stronger.

The older man shook his head sadly. “No, ma’am. Neither survived.”

“But what about the people still inside the plane?” An elderly woman asked from the back of the group. Twin paths of tears had been left through the soot on her face. “We need to get them out!”

The crowd parted as the older man walked forward and placed a calming hand on the woman’s arm. “Ma’am, we sent a couple boys in to check to see if anybody…had survived. Those still on the plane are no longer with us.”

The woman sobbed, pressing a gnarled hand to her lips. Callie’s heart broke.

“We can’t just let them burn,” the woman with the baby said softly. She held her infant closer and tucked her chin to press a kiss to its soft head. Her eyes were closed when she went on. “That’s not right.”

“If we try to rescue the dead, we’ll only put our own lives in danger,” a brusque man with dark, cocoa skin and a shaved head spoke up.
He holds himself like a soldier
, Callie thought. He was one of the men who had carried Gran.

As if to punctuate his statement, an explosion rang through the forest. Callie whirled away from the group to face the plane.

It was entirely engulfed in flames.

Callie reached behind her with both hands, seeking her mother and Nailah. Their own hands wrapped around hers.

The survivors sat in silence as they watched the plane burn.

“W
e need to come up with a plan,” the dark-skinned soldier said. His name was Jarrett —Callie didn’t know if that was his first name or last name. She wasn’t too sure which way was up, and blamed the shock.

The group had moved further into the forest—out of sight of the now decimated aircraft. Several men took to carrying the three or four still unconscious victims. Some introductions had been passed around once they’d come to a stop, though Callie hadn’t retained many names. Her vision had tunneled into the small universe that maintained herself, her mother, Nailah, and Gran. Everything around her seemed to move in slow motion.

The older man—Bill—swiped a hand over his blood-encrusted hair. “What kind of plan? We don’t even know where we are! We’re lucky we didn’t crash-land into the ocean.”

“We
should
have crash-landed in the ocean,” the stewardess said. Callie couldn’t remember her name.

Though the six men and the flight attendant had moved slightly away from the survivors to keep their conversation private, Callie was just near enough to hear. Emma’s head was resting on Callie’s thigh, her eyes closed as she dozed, but Callie could feel Nailah’s alertness beside her—she was listening to the group, as well.

“What do you mean?” the skinny red-head demanded. His name was Gavin; Callie didn’t think he was even in his twenties yet.

The stewardess sighed. “We were over the ocean. There wasn’t any land or island in sight. There is no way we could have landed on dry land. For all intents and purposes, we
should
have hit the water.”

“Well, obviously you’re wrong,” Jarrett declared. Callie found his arrogance obnoxious.

“Jarrett , knock it off. I think Marge would know better than you,” Gavin retorted.

Bill rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Obviously, the plane veered off course during the turbulence. Knocked us near enough to dry land.”

“Good luck, too,” a quiet man named Jorge spoke up. “If we had hit water…”

He didn’t have to finish his statement. Even Callie knew that if they had even survived a water crash, they would have all probably died afterwards from thirst, starvation, or exposure.

“Should we keep walking? See if we can find people?” Gavin directed his question to Bill, the unnamed leader of the group.

Bill glanced around the forest. Where they were was darker than it had been near the clearing—whether from tree coverage or the setting sun, Callie wasn’t sure. The calm sounds of the day were fading, replaced by the more active noises of the night. Callie had spent many nights in jungles, listening to the cries of the big cats and the screeches of the monkeys. It was terrifying; there was no way some of these people could handle that.

“I think we should stay put for the night,” Bill finally answered. “We’ll give the unconscious time to wake up. Rest and restore. We’ll start walking at daybreak.”

Callie was lying awake on the hard ground, her eyes focused on the black sky that peeked through the branches of the trees above. What she could see was so filled with stars that it looked unreal. Every so often, she heard the cry of an owl or the unnerving scream of a monkey. Even having dealt with it all before, it still made her jump.

Nailah was on her back beside Callie, their shoulders pressed together. Her own dark eyes were on the stars. She nudged Callie. “Are you okay?”

Callie pondered the question. It had so many meanings, and so many answers, yet Callie still hadn’t decided how she felt. The shock had begun to wear off, but the numbness hadn’t. “As okay as I can be. You?”

“I guess.” Nailah took a deep, shuddery breath. “I just keep thinking of my mom. She was going to meet me at the airport.”

“Oh.” Callie envisioned a statuesque beauty, an older version of Nailah, searching the airport frantically for her little girl.

They lapsed back into silence.

Emma shifted in her sleep, and Callie glanced over at the motion. Her mother was pressed tightly against Gran, who had yet to wake up. They were barely visible in the darkness.

“This is so surreal,” Nailah said after a moment.

“No kidding.” Callie paused, still stuck on the vision of Nailah’s mother in the airport. “Do you think they’ll find us? When the plane never lands in Bermuda, do you think they’ll send help?”

Nailah’s hand sought hers in the dark, and she squeezed. “I’m sure.”

Callie felt like she had only just lapsed into sleep when she was awoken by a rumble. Her eyes shot open to darkness and silence, but Nailah’s hand—still entwined with Callie’s—tightened.

“What’s that?” Nailah hissed.

Callie let go of her friend’s hand and rolled to her stomach. She pressed her ear to the ground. A steady hum reverberated beneath the dirt; she not only heard it, but felt it in her hands where they pressed into the twigs and leaves. As Callie listened, the hum got louder.

Following Callie’s suit, Nailah rolled over and pressed her own cheek to the ground. “What the hell
is
that?”

“It’s coming closer,” Callie said, not bothering to whisper. She shot up and turned in the direction of Bill and the others.

He was already sitting up, one ear cocked to the night.

Jarrett had both hands pressed to the ground. “Cars.”

“Cars?” Gavin sat up sleepily and rubbed his eyes. “Where?”

“Ohmigod,
cars
!” Callie yelled, awakening the other survivors. The initial grumbling ceased as word spread through the group that help was on the way.

“They’re idling now. Close,” Jarrett called. He still had his ear to the dirt.

“They’re looking for us!” Nailah yelled out. “Everybody scream!”

The racket raised from the survivors was eerily loud in the night. The baby started crying to the chorus of “Hey!” and “Over here!” and “Help!” Nailah pulled Callie to her feet.

“Calista, look.” Nailah pointed to where Gran lay.

Emma was gazing down at her mother, silent and crying with a big, beaming smile on her face.

Gran’s eyes were open as she blinked at the stars twinkling through the treetops. Callie’s heart skipped a beat. She took Nailah’s hand and squeezed it. They were all going to be okay.

It was no time at all before a spotlight began to dance through the trees. Callie cheered along with everyone else, and threw her arms around Nailah, dancing with her new friend across the underbrush.

The spotlight drew nearer. Footsteps crunched across the forest floor—several sets of them. The closer they got, the more the spotlight illuminated their rescuers.

There were several men and a couple women, all in matching, khaki-colored cotton shirts and pants. They all had gun straps angled across their chests and lit flashlights dangling from their belts.

“We come in peace!” one man intoned. He was tall and lanky, and his prominent features were made eerie in the back glow of his flashlight. His fellow rescuers chuckled.

“Daymar, you’re an idiot,” one of the females shot back. She was a petite woman with the sleeves rolled up on her shirt, emphasizing the muscles in her arms. “Folks, we’re soldiers with the Aionian paramilitary. No worries, we’re here to help.”

A large, imposing man with a muscular upper body and a bald head grinned in the glow of his light. He stood at the head of the group. Tossing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction from which they had come, he said, “Someone call for a ride?”