Setting Him Free (2 page)

Taylor chose a whisky, downed it in one and saluted
the policemen with his empty glass. The man beside him muttered
something under his breath. The other ripped open a packet of
peanuts and tipped back his head to pour them into his mouth. They
thought they had his number. A pussy-cat on a lead? He was here
only because he wanted to be. Taylor closed his eyes and leaned
back against the seat. They really were stupid, stupid men.

And the blonde-haired woman, who was now hidden
behind a magazine? He hadn't expected her to make him smile. A long
time since he'd smiled. Perhaps there was something left in him,
after all.

Only another two hours to go
. Danielle checked
her watch again and closed her eyes. With so few passengers the
cabin was quiet. Nothing to do but listen to the sound of the
engines and wonder when they would drop off the plane. And to top
it all, the attendant was suddenly sporting a decidedly worried
look which definitely hadn't been there at the beginning of the
flight.

Maybe she has indigestion?
Or maybe
not
, the voice in the back of Danielle's mind insisted.

Danielle turned to the window, but within minutes was
leaning out into the aisle to get a better view, wondering if she
should call the attendant over and ask her outright if there was a
problem. The attendant stood near to the door separating the flight
deck from the rest of the plane, nodding and talking rapidly to one
of the crew. Danielle pushed her call button. The young woman
looked up. Briefly she spoke again, before closing the door and
smiling at Danielle.

"Can I get you anything, miss? Another drink,
perhaps?"

"Is everything okay? I thought I felt a bit of a jolt
back there." Danielle watched her carefully. She'd tried this one a
dozen times and always got the same answer. "
No problem miss,
planes do that, there's nothing wrong
."

Only this time she detected a slight hesitation
before the reassuring words. Danielle was a world-class expert on
disaster movies. The woman was stalling her.

"Are you sure, because I definitely felt..."

"There is nothing wrong, miss. Please calm down or
you will scare the other passengers."

The attendant hurried back to the front of the plane
and disappeared through the door into the cockpit. Danielle looked
around. Apart from a brief glance from one of the men in black when
she'd pressed the call button, none of the other passengers seemed
to be the slightest bit concerned. The nuns hadn't moved from their
seats. The businessman's hand hung limply over the aisle armrest as
if he were asleep
. How could they be so casual?
One of the
men in black was asleep too, mouth open, snoring lightly. The other
alternated between staring at Danielle's legs and looking out of
the window. And the man in handcuffs had returned to the catatonic
position he'd been in for most of the flight.

Ten minutes later, the plane gave a lurch and banked
steeply to the right. Danielle grabbed at her armrests and looked
wildly about her.
What the hell was that
? The plane levelled
abruptly as her shoulder hit the window. The attendant reappeared
and this time there was no mistaking the fear clouding her
face.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began in a shaky voice,
"We may have a small problem."

Small problem? Danielle's heart started a heavy
thudding that accelerated with each beat. Problem? There couldn't
be. Her hypnotherapist had insisted the odds of a plane actually
crashing were – well, she couldn't remember exactly, but they were
tiny.

The attendant raised her arms.
Crash position
?
What the hell was she talking about crash positions for?
This couldn't be happening.

Only it was, because the man in handcuffs was
suddenly alert and paying attention. Leaning out into the aisle,
watching the flight attendant intently, he looked not exactly
scared, but definitely concerned. And if he, who had hardly blinked
during the flight, was showing emotion, then it must be
serious.

Their eyes met again. He pointed to her seat belt and
then spoke to her. If she hadn't been seated, she would have taken
a step back at the sound. Not a single word had passed his lips for
the whole flight and now he was speaking to her in a low, slightly
clipped, English accent. A little rough around the edges – like the
kind of accent that might have changed over the years.

The plane gave another lurch. One of the nuns
screamed, long and loud. Danielle kept her eyes squarely on the
man's face. His mouth opened and closed. She was too terrified to
make out the words. Jolted out of her seat, she hit the floor
thinking that it must be something important, but she'd never know
because they were all about to die.

* * * *

"Do your seat belt up!" Taylor shouted across at the
woman who was looking at him, but didn't seem to be hearing him.
"Your seat belt, do it –
hell!"
He watched her fall into the
aisle, made a grab for her and missed. Stretching as far as he
could, he tried to reach her. The policeman sitting next to him
shouted at him to sit down, tugging on his tee-shirt to pull him
back. Taylor pushed him off and reached out again. The one sitting
opposite them barked something at his hysterical partner and
unclipped his seatbelt. Standing unsteadily, he stepped into the
aisle, shoved unceremoniously past Danielle, and made his way to
the cockpit. Taylor put everything he had into one final stretch
and managed to lock a hand around her wrist and pull her up towards
him.

"Can you hear me?" he shouted above the noise of the
now-screaming engines. The plane banked again. He pulled her hard
against him, knowing that if he let go she'd be seriously injured.
Her hands closed around his arms, her nails dug into his flesh and
he heard her sharp intake of breath. Saw the terror in her eyes,
only inches away from his, desperately seeking reassurance.

How could he tell her he didn't have it in him to
feel the same fear? That this impending disaster was most-likely
for his benefit and he didn't care if the plane crashed and they
all died? It banked steeply again and he wasn't sure whether the
pain of her grip on his arms, or her tears, falling freely now,
were what made him realise that was no longer true. Their survival
was already linked. He had to save her life, and in doing so she
might just save his.

For the first time in two years Taylor wanted to
live, instead of die.
Bloody ironic.
Regaining the will to
live moments before the plane he was in fell out of the sky and
killed them all? Probably the funniest thing that had happened to
him in years. The laughter was totally inappropriate, but once
started, he couldn't stop. The woman raised startled eyes to his
while he lowered his forehead to her arm and fought for
control.

Hell, this was turning into one heck of a day.

* * * *

Laughter? What kind of idiot is he?
Danielle
gripped the man's arms. Screams and frantic prayers competed with
engine noises, while the plane continued to lurch from side to
side. It levelled again. Her head slammed into his chest and strong
fingers clasped the back of her neck, holding her steady. He
stopped laughing, abruptly as if suddenly aware of the effect it
was having on her.

His solid warmth was a lifeline to which she clung
with everything she had. Grabbing a handful of his tee-shirt, she
pressed her face against the damp cloth and breathed in the mixture
of smoke and sweat. The hammering of his heart told her he wasn't
nearly as calm as he appeared. She lifted her head, desperate for
him to say he would save her from this, already knowing he
couldn't.

"What's your name?"

She stared at him, noticing for the first time that
he needed a shave.

"Your name, sweetheart. What is it?"

Her mouth opened twice before any sound came out.
"Danielle. Danielle Radley."

"I'm Taylor. Now be a good girl and get back in your
seat. And do your seat belt up." He spoke slowly and deliberately.
"Can you do that for me, Danielle?"

"I. I can't." Her grip tightened. "Don't let go of
me."

His expression softened, and for a brief moment his
eyes showed the pain she'd seen earlier. "You've got to, Danielle.
Come on, you're stronger than this. Go now, we may not have much
time."

"What do you mean?" Danielle tightened the grip on
his tee-shirt, pulling herself so close she smelled the whisky on
his breath. Then she was being pushed away to land hard against her
seat. Falling into it, she fumbled with the belt. Glanced back at
him. Saw his approving smile.

He has a nice smile
.
Should smile more
often.

His companion yelled again. The plane continued to
lurch and bank. No sign of his double. The attendant was on her
knees in the aisle, grimly trying to pull herself into a seat. One
moment the blue of the sky filled the window, the next the green of
the tropical rainforest below growing larger and larger with every
passing second.

Was the pilot trying to land in the forest? They were
almost down now, the force of the descent jamming her into the
seat, the tops of the trees clearly visible.

A loud bang shook the plane and Danielle covered her
ears to shut out the sound of everyone screaming at once. For a
split second the plane hovered silently in mid-air.

Then the nose tipped and it dropped.

"Get your head down, Danielle." Taylor bent forward,
an arm above his head.

She copied him, arms bracing her head, with no idea
if she was doing it right. She, who had memorised every safety
procedure, every position, suddenly couldn't remember any of it.
Her stomach seemed to be flying out of her mouth. Wasn't her life
supposed to flash before her eyes? Her mom, her dad– she tried to
picture them but they wouldn't come. There was only Taylor and the
way he'd held on to her, even though she'd hurt him with her long
nails. Instead of closing her eyes she turned her head, looked over
at him and found him still watching her. When he nodded, she
reached out her hand and his strong grip clasping her wrist was the
last thing she was aware of as the plane hit the thick forest
below.

Taylor opened his eyes, biting back the sharp pain
that ripped through his left arm. He righted himself slowly,
wondering how bad his injuries were. Amazed to still be alive. A
man with a death wish had survived a plane crash. Was someone up
there trying to tell him something? He flexed his right arm, moved
his legs and took a couple of deep breaths. Everything else seemed
normal. His left arm was broken, judging by the pain, and his head
hurt. But if that was all then he'd got off lightly.

Danielle. He almost had to force himself to look at
her seat. The last thing he remembered were two enormous eyes,
silently pleading with him to do something, and the strength of her
grip on his hand.

She was still in her seat, head to the side, not
moving. The lights were all out and the trees that had cushioned
the impact surrounded the plane, telling him they'd come down
somewhere in the rainforest. Some of the branches reached in
through the shattered windows, and for a moment Taylor kept very
still and listened for sounds of movement. A plane caught high up
in the canopy might drop at any time. He couldn't be sure, but it
felt stable and he had to trust that the creaks and groans
punctuating the silence were just branches rubbing against
metal.

She's not breathing
. Taylor reached across and
took Danielle's wrist, feeling for a pulse. For an agonising moment
he felt nothing. Stretching across made his broken arm hurt like
hell, but he needed to know.
She couldn't be dead.
He tried
again, finding it hard to concentrate against the roaring pain in
his head. At first he'd been numb, but now every part of his body
throbbed, protesting against being dropped out of the sky.

Twisting back into his seat, he reached into the
inside pocket of the dead policeman's suit and felt around for a
key to the handcuffs.

Taylor spared the dead man no sympathy, as he'd been
given none. The man still had a surprised expression frozen on his
face at the moment the jagged piece of window glass had ripped
through his neck.

A cell phone but no keys.
Taylor willed
himself calm. Which of the policemen had pocketed them? A quick
glance at the twisted and shattered front of the plane told him the
other man wasn't coming back.

No signal. He dropped the phone onto the seat,
breathing through the pain.

Christ, have I survived this only to die of hunger
and thirst next to a corpse?

Yes, there they were. He found the set of keys after
what seemed an eternity and, with a shaking hand, twisted one in
the lock and pulled the handcuffs apart, easing away the metal
which had bitten into his skin. After a couple of steadying
breaths, he carefully lifted his arm, inhaling sharply at the pain
slicing through him. The arm needed immobilising, if he could find
a first aid kit. First, though, the grim task of checking on the
other passengers.

Another look at the crushed tangle of metal that was
once the front part of the plane left him in no doubt about their
fate. How could anyone have survived that? Then there was Danielle.
Taylor twisted out of his seat and placed a trembling hand on her
chest.

Movement.
Thank God
. Slowly but surely, her
chest rose up and down. He leaned in and listened. When her warm
breath fanned his face, his legs gave way with the sheer relief and
shock of it all. He fell to his knees beside her, still not knowing
if she was badly hurt. Only that she was alive, and that somehow it
was important to him. The sounds of the rainforest started up
quietly in the background; insects and birds, startled into silence
by the crash, resuming their business while he stared at her
wondering why he cared.