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“I NEED TO GET TO CUTTER,” Tank said as he stood.
“I don’t see him out there,” I said, pushing myself up. “Earlier, I saw him stacking supplies over there on the beach, but he’s nowhere now. I’ve been looking for him.”
“Then you haven’t been looking in the right place,” he said with an edge. “He could have been thrown. I need you and Daniella to care for everyone. The boars won’t be back—I’m certain of that. But Cutter is alive. He has to be. I’ve already lost one brother today. I’m not about to lose another.”
Before he left, he went over to Lisa, who was sitting up but leaning against Daniella for support.
“Are you OK?” he asked as he pressed his palm against her cheek.
“Go and find Cutter. Help him if you can. I’m fine. When we landed, I must have blacked out. I’ve survived worse than this—remember?”
“Too well,” he said.
After giving her a meaningful kiss, Tank cut away from all of us, hurried down onto the beach, and started his search. I watched him run and thought of how brave he was and how lucky we were to have him in our lives for so many reasons. But as I watched him move toward the smoldering, ruined plane—which was in pieces at this point—it occurred to me that it had stopped raining. At some point during our run-in with the boars, the storm must have broke, because parts of the sky had cleared. From my time on Alex’s island, I knew that was typical of the tropics. Storms would burst in just as quickly as they’d burst out. Soon, the sun would appear. And then we could really assess everyone’s health.
I went over to Alex and, to my relief, saw that the bleeding at his throat seemed to have stopped—the bloodstain on Tank’s shirt was about the same size that it had been earlier. He also no longer looked as pale. “Are you feeling better?” I asked.
“I need to help Tank.”
“No, you don’t. You went into cardiac arrest, likely because of the amount of blood you lost and the shock of the crash. You need to lie still for now. If you move, the wound could open again. I’m worried about infection.”
“If he develops one, I can help with that,” Alexa said. “We’re in a subtropical climate. There are all sorts of plants here that, if used correctly, are nearly as powerful as penicillin.”
“Then you’re our go-to person for that should we need to find those plants.” I turned back to Alex, saw the concern in his eyes, and knew that he was thinking about our child. “We’re going to be fine,” I said. “Get some rest.”
“Help Barbara.”
“I will. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I looked over at Lisa. “Do you need anything?”
“I’ll be OK. Help Barbara. See if she’s all right.”
I walked over to Blackwell, and knelt beside her and Alexa. Both were sitting up. After all of the excitement, Alexa seemed to be more alert than she had been earlier, but her mother wasn’t. Blackwell’s eyes were blinking in an effort to clear her head. I could see her trying to take in the enormity of the moment, her surroundings, everything that had just happened.
I placed the palm of my hand against her back. “How are you?” I asked.
“I can’t believe this happened,” she said.
“Are you all right?”
“I hurt like a sonofabitch, but I’ll live.”
“Do you remember the crash?”
“Other than the storm and fighting with my clueless daughter to get her ass buckled into a chair, I don’t remember much of anything.”
“I saw something hit the side of your head while we were going down. Let me check to see if anything is swollen, or if you’re bleeding.” To my surprise, she actually let me. I ran my fingers gently over and around her wet scalp, and she winced when I touched a slightly raised spot just above her left ear.
“That’s where you were hit,” I said. I checked my fingers for any trace of blood, but there wasn’t any. “You’re not bleeding, though you are swollen. Do you feel nauseous?”
“Somewhat.”
“You likely have a concussion.”
“Obviously, it could have been worse.” She turned to me and looked me in the eyes. “So, let me ask you. Are you all right, Jennifer?”
I know what she was really asking, but I didn’t want to discuss that now.
“I’m fine.”
“You know what I’m referring to.”
“Of course I do.” Helplessness washed over me and I shrugged at her. Tears stung at my eyes when I spoke. “But I have no answers. None. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
Her hand tightened around mine. “Don’t give up hope. We’ll find out together.”
“Find out about what?” Daniella asked.
There was no way in hell that I was going to keep this a secret, so what was the point of even trying? These were my friends—only Daniella and Alexa didn’t know that I was pregnant. So, I said the words. “I’m pregnant,” I said. “Alex and I are. We just recently found out. And now, after the crash, we’re concerned about the baby.”
“And that’s all she’s going to say about it,” Blackwell said.
“Jennifer—” Alexa said.
“Let’s not talk about it. I don’t want to upset Alex or me any more than we already are. This baby could turn out to be a miracle. If all of us could survive that crash, there’s every chance that our child has, too. All I ask is for your prayers. That’s it. And Barbara is right—that’s all I’m going to say on the subject. At least for now.”
Blackwell looked at me, and then she looked around her as the first slants of sunlight began to cut through the trees. “Where is Max?” she asked. “Where are the pilots? Amy?”
“They’re gone,” I said. “The plane hit something when we were descending. I think we struck a mountaintop or something, because when we did, the cockpit ripped off, and it took them away from us.”
“Oh, my God,” Blackwell said. “I don’t know what to say. Those poor people. Our Max is gone. And that dear girl.”
And that was all I could take. Grief overcame me, and I shut my eyes tight. I still could see the front part of the plane cracking off as if it were nothing more than an eggshell. Amy, Max, and the pilots were pulled away from us as if their lives had no significance. No meaning. Despite the sudden roar of air that hit us when the cockpit broke away, I still heard Amy’s screams as she and the others were tossed into the unknown. Even now I could hear her screaming—high and pierced in the face of certain death. And the memory of it was enough to make me put my face in my hands, and begin to weep for all that we had lost.
