Rachael lightly laid her hand on his shoulder, shook him slightly, but he didn’t move. She felt his arms, his legs. Nothing seemed broken, but inside he could be seriously hurt. He was much younger than the other man, around her age, big and fit. He wore a black leather jacket similar to hers over a white shirt and tie, black pants, low black boots. She lightly slapped his face. “Please, wake up.”
He moaned, jerked onto his back. She leaned close, slapped his cheek again. “Come on, wake up. You can do it. I can’t lift you by myself and I’m alone. The other man is unconscious and he needs your help. Wake up. Please.” She slapped his face harder.
A hand grabbed her wrist. She yelped but he didn’t release her.
Jack opened his eyes. Long straight hair brushed his face, hair the color of sunlight. Blond and brown and gold, with one skinny braid running down the side, and he tried to lift his hand to touch it, but he couldn’t get his arm up there. He said, “I like the braid. I’ve never seen that before. You pack quite a punch.”
“Yes, well, sorry, but you have to wake up. I’ve got to get you and your friend medical help. Where are you hurt? What happened?”
To her surprise, he actually smiled. “Am I dead? Are you an angel? No, you’re not an angel, your hair’s too pretty and that braid—angels don’t wear braids like that. And you’ve got dirt on your nose.”
“I’d like to be an angel but I guess that would mean you’re imagining me, and thank God you’re not. I’m Rachael.” She swiped at her nose. “There’s a cut that’s bleeding above your left temple; it’s only a trickle now. I saw part of the plane tail hit you, knock you down. Your right thigh is bleeding pretty bad. We need to put pressure on it.”
“Use my tie.”
She pulled off his bright red tie with little colorful squiggles on it and eased it under his leg. “Tell me when you think it’s tight enough,” and she pulled.
“That’ll get it. Knot it good. Anything broken?”
“No, not as far as I can tell, but I’m not a doctor.”
“Usually broken bones tend to be pretty obvious.”
“There’s your innards. Anything could be going on inside you.” He was silent a moment, communing, she supposed, with his insides. “Feels okay, so far.”
“Good. I’m not a pilot, either, but I watched you bring that plane down. I have no idea how you managed it, but you did. That was amazing. I’ve never been so scared. Well, maybe one other time.” Just last Friday night, as a matter of fact. Insanely, she wanted to laugh.
He looked up at her, managed a smile. “Hey, since I walked away—well, ran away—I won’t call it a crash, but it was definitely what I’d term a forced landing.” He frowned, and she realized he was barely hanging on. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw this valley. I thought for sure we’d end up slamming into a mountain and some archaeologist would find us in a couple hundred years.”
“I don’t think you should count on that much luck ever happening again in your life. I’m sorry to tell you, but your plane’s pretty much destroyed. So’s your cool tie, now that it’s got blood all over it.”
He dropped her wrist. “A bomb.” His voice was faint now. “No, no, don’t fade out on me again. You’ve got to wake up, you’ve got to help me.” She leaned real close. “Look at me. What’s your name? That’s it, concentrate on your name. You can do it.” A bomb? He said there was a bomb? Well now, wasn’t that great, just great.
“My name’s Jack.”
“Okay, Jack. You hang in. We’re going to get to my car, you’ll at least be safe there and warmer than you are here.”
Jack Crowne thought his head was going to burst, it hurt so bad. As for his leg, it nagged and throbbed, but he could deal with it. If he could have one more spot of luck, maybe that piece of plane hadn’t sliced him all that deep. “The Marauder—she’s a good plane,” he said, then cursed under his breath. “Was.”
His brain focused. “Didn’t you say something about my friend? You found another man? Older, on the small side? Wearing a silly pink-and-blue bow tie?”
She lightly touched her hand to his shoulder. “Yes, he’s over there. He’s unconscious, but alive. There’s blood all over his chest and on his head. I didn’t check for broken bones. I’m sorry, but I’m alone. Once I get you to my car, I’ll help him.”
“No, no, I’m pulling myself together. We must get to him now. My cell, let me get my cell, I’ll call for help.”
“Sorry, that’s not an option. Cells don’t work out here what with all the mountains and no towers. We’ll take care of him, don’t worry. All right now, don’t close your eyes. I really can’t lift you by myself. We’ll go over to help your friend.”
Jack gritted his teeth and thought about Timothy, who could be dying right now, right here, in this empty valley in the middle of nowhere. With her help he managed to ease up onto his elbows. He looked around. “I’m still in Kentucky?”
“Yes, close to the Virginia border. You managed to land your plane in the Cudlow Valley, the only break in the mountains for miles and miles. If you hadn’t made it here, well... it doesn’t matter, you did. Best not to dwell on that right now. Luck and skill, you had both. Now, your friend—”
“Help me to him and I’ll carry him to your car.” Rachael couldn’t imagine his helping anybody, but she clasped him around his chest and pulled. He came up to his knees, plastered against her. She paused for a moment, his head dipped to rest on her shoulder. “You okay?”
“The world’s spinning and I want to vomit, but yeah, I’m okay. Give me another minute.” Jack breathed slow and shallow. Thankfully, the nausea passed. His head pounded, sharp and heavy, but he could deal with that since it was no longer blinding him. “Okay, let’s go. I’ve got to see to Timothy.”
It took the better part of five minutes but he was finally standing, walking, Rachael taking as much of his weight as she could without dropping herself. “There’s Timothy. He hasn’t moved.”
With Rachael’s help, Jack knelt beside Dr Timothy MacLean. He checked his pulse, checked his head, then ran his hands over his arms and legs. He handed Rachael her leather jacket. “The blood on his chest—he’s got a good-sized gash, well below his heart, thank God. Doesn’t look deep and the bleeding’s stopped. I’d say he’s also got a couple of broken ribs. As for his head, I know he was unconscious when I got him out of the plane.”
“I saw him hit his head on some rocks.”
He cursed. “It’s my fault, I stumbled and he went flying.”
“Yeah, right, blaming yourself sure makes sense.”
He narrowed his eyes at her even as he took more deep breaths. She saw the fierce concentration on his face, watched him suck in a deep breath and lean down. He managed to pull the man up and over his shoulder. He staggered, but kept his feet. “I’m glad he’s on the small side,” he said, panting. “All right, Rachael, if you could ease yourself under my left arm, let’s give it a go.”
He wasn’t all that steady on his feet, but together they managed one step, then another and another. “My car’s on the side of the road, over there. She up and died on me and I don’t know a thing about cars.”
“I do,” he said, gritting his teeth, wanting to puke again. Timothy didn’t weigh much, but still it was nearly 140 pounds of dead weight. Jack stopped, waited until the nausea passed, which it thankfully did again. “Okay, what is it? Twenty more feet. I can do that.”
He did. She opened the back door and he eased his friend onto the backseat. He shrugged off his leather jacket and handed it to her. She was able to nearly cover Timothy completely with the two jackets. Jack leaned against the car, his eyes closed, the blood now caked on the left side of his face. “What time is it?”