Page 63 of The Wrecked One

Somehow, we managed a smooth takeoff, even with gunshots continuing in the background. I still clutched the chair arms as if my life depended on it, distracting myself by paying careful attention to everything Sam did from the pilot’s seat, reminding myself he’d been in the Air Force, so we were in good hands.

“You see that?” Sam pointed to a screen. “We’re going to fly right into that.”

“Another storm?” I leaned forward, bracing the back of Oliver’s seat for support since we were still ascending.

“Yeah, they come and go like this in the summer,” Sam said, still remaining cool and collected, “and this one looks like a real beast. Small but nasty.”

Oliver’s pissed-off expression directed at his father didn’t go over my head. He wasn’t a fan of his father being so candid with a nervous backseat flier.

Sam twisted around and faced me, a steady and confident look in his eyes, as if Oliver had sent him some telepathic message to reassure me. “Don’t worry. We’re good. I’ve flown in much worse.”

“But those were multimillion dollar jets meant for war, not a fun-sized prop plane like this, right?” When he didn’t answer, because like father like son, I sat back in the seat as my ears started to close up a bit. “What’s the plan?”

“We get to the LZ at Dad’s friend’s place,” Oliver began, “and then we hang tight until we talk to Carter and the others about how to get you out of here safely. We don’t know if another team is going to be dispatched since this one failed.”

Right. Of course the powers that be within The Collective would have a contingency plan. At some point, they would also likely realize they had a traitor on the inside leaking information to help us escape their attacks.

“I sent Cindy and my dog into town to the sheriff’s station, so I need to pick them up. I’ll make sure we’re not followed before we meet you at Malcolm and Vanessa’s place,” Sam said as we flew right into the dark clouds, the sky choosing that exact moment to unleash hell on us.

Turbulence in the mini plane compared to a commercial airliner made me feel like we were on one of those old wooden roller coasters, the kind that gave a severe case of whiplash. When beeps and warnings from the control panel started echoing through the plane, followed by a sputtering sound from what I was scared was one of the engines—and hopefully there were at least two despite the size of this thing—I lost any last shred of calm I’d been hanging on to.

“Ah, shit,” Sam cursed as the plane veered sharply to the left, but he quickly course-corrected.

“What’s happening?” I held on to Oliver’s seat as we took a quick dive. “Pretty sure that’s the wrong direction.” Me and the whole stating-the-obvious thing needed to stop being such good friends. It also wasn’t the time for self-talk, not unless it was to remember the woman I was before Thailand. The girl who believed in manifesting and the power of positive thinking and didn’t have meltdowns because someone tried to touch me. I couldn’t power-of-positive-think our way out of a potential plane crash, though.

A few seconds later, Sam had us ascending again, but the screeching bells and whistles from up front had yet to stop.

Oliver unbuckled his seat belt and kept his head bent and body hunched while going to the back of the plane.

“Bad idea. Sit down,” I ordered, whacking his arm as he passed me.

He paused and shot me what I’d swear was almost an amused expression, but given what was at stake, I was probably hallucinating it.

“We can land, right? The engine seems to still be working.” But then why was Oliver strapping on what looked like a parachute rig? “Oh no. No, no, no.” Remaining in my seat, I twisted around, flailing my arms, knocking into him again.

“Just in case, you two will jump once I reach ten thousand feet.”

Oliver’s hands went still on one of the straps he’d been in the middle of drawing tight across his bad shoulder.

When was that decision made? I didn’t hear that conversation happen.

“So, there’s a chance you can crash and . . .” Die. I couldn’t finish that thought out loud. Nope, I rejected that possibility. I didn’t know the man, but I didn’t want anyone dying because of me, and certainly not Oliver’s father. Oliver had dealt with far too much, no more adding to his plate. “You’re coming with us.”

“Only one parachute,” Sam said, nonchalantly. “And I can’t just let this plane crash into the woods and start a forest fire. I have to at least get it over water if it’s going down.”

My eyes widened. “One chute?”

“We’re doing a tandem jump, don’t worry,” Oliver remarked, then sidestepped my seat to unbuckle me.

Was he worried I wouldn’t do it myself? Afraid I’d tie myself to the chair? Well, knowing me, yes, he probably was.

“Allll the worrying,” I said, staring up at him, my body taut, muscles locking up like my limbs were stuck in gridlock traffic. “What if we get struck by lightning? Or we land on a tree and get strung up?” About five hundred other possibilities whipped through my head, and they all ended poorly. Like in death. Or eaten by a bear. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to skydive in the rain, let alone a storm.”

“Look at me.” When turbulence nearly knocked his face into mine, Oliver clutched the top of the seat to prevent a painful headbutt. “We’re going to be okay. This is what I did for a living. I jumped from planes.” He tipped his head toward his father, ignoring the alarms and wild weather and added, “Same for him. He’s basically Top Gun.”

“Maverick was Navy,” his father grunted, and I just couldn’t deal with the two of them. Then again, if they started panicking, too, there was a 100% chance we were doomed.

Oliver ignored his father, and with his free hand, offered me help to stand. “We’ve run through this scenario before. We’ve practiced this situation.”

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