Page 43 of Wreckage

Finally, he sighed. “Maybe we can get a hole through the roof and build a small fire inside. The hole will allow the smoke to go out. It’s worth a shot.”

My spine straightened. “How?”

Adrian hesitated. “The metal sink in the bathroom. It’s small. If we can pull it out and make a contained fire in it, we might be able to keep some warmth inside without suffocating.”

I nodded. “I’m all for it.”

Adrian gave me a look that said this might not work, but we didn’t have many options left.

We got to work.

In the cockpit, we found a small toolbox. It was Dean’s. He’d always been obsessed with wilderness survival and fixing things. I wasn’t surprised he’d brought tools on the plane. I was grateful they hadn’t been destroyed in the crash.

There was enough to do what we needed: a saw, a hammer, a few wrenches, and some other miscellaneous tools.

Adrian and I spent the next hour pulling the tiny metal sink from the bathroom, prying it loose from the bolts. My muscles screamed from exhaustion, but I pushed through it.

Elena watched from her spot, silent but alert.

She still looked pale. Too pale.

And her ankle…

I didn’t want to think about what was happening beneath the swollen bruising.

But I was thinking about it.

Constantly.

When we finally pried the sink loose, I sat back on my heels, wiping sweat from my brow.

“This is gonna work,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.

Adrian let out a humorless laugh. “It has to. We’re out of fucking options.”

I didn’t say what we were both thinking—if it doesn’t, we’re dead.

We started working on the hole in the ceiling, hacking at the metal with the saw, creating an opening wide enough to let smoke escape without allowing too much cold in.

By the time we were done, I was exhausted.

But I couldn’t stop.

Because beneath the relief of having one problem handled, something else was clawing at the back of my mind.

Food. We were nearly out.

I thought about the rabbit I had seen earlier. It had been quick, darting through the snow, barely a blur before it was gone. I didn’t know how I’d catch it. But I had to.

Because there was another thought—one I didn’t want to acknowledge, one that made my stomach turn so hard I thought I might be sick.

Dean.

He was still buried out there in the snow, frozen solid.

I had never even entertained the thought of eating a person before, but then again, why the fuck would I?

But now?

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