Jeopardy. Linda Howard
Читать онлайн книгу.
into her palms as she fought to contain her panic. She had never before felt so small and helpless, so fragile, with soft flesh and slender bones that couldn’t withstand such battering force. She was going to die, and she had yet to live.
The plane jerked and shuddered, bucking under the stress of spasmodic power. It pitched to the right, throwing Sunny against the door so hard her right arm went numb.
“That’s it,” Chance said between gritted teeth, his knuckles white as he fought to control the pitching aircraft. He brought the wings level again. “I have to take it down now, while I have a little control. Look for the best place.”
Best place? There was no best place. They needed somewhere that was relatively flat and relatively clear; the last location she had seen that fit that description had been in Utah.
He raised the right wingtip, tilting the plane so he had a better side view.
“See anything?” Sunny asked, her voice shaking just a little.
“Nothing. Damn.”
“Damn is the wrong word. Pilots are supposed to say something else just before they crash.” Humor wasn’t much of a weapon with which to face death, but it was how she had always gotten herself through the hard times.
Unbelievably, he grinned. “But I haven’t crashed yet, sweetheart. Have a little faith. I promise I’ll say the right word if I don’t find a good-looking spot pretty soon.”
“If you don’t find a good-looking spot, I’ll say it for you,” she promised fervently.
They crossed a jagged, boulder-strewn ridge, and a long, narrow black pit yawned beneath them like a doorway to hell. “There!” Chance said, nosing the plane down.
“What? Where?” She sat erect, desperate hope flaring inside her, but all she could see was that black pit.
“The canyon. That’s our best bet.”
The black pit was a canyon? Weren’t canyons supposed to be big? That looked like an arroyo. How on earth would the plane ever fit inside it? And what difference did it make, when this was their only chance? Her heart lodged itself in her throat, and she gripped the edge of the seat as Chance eased the pitching aircraft lower and lower.
The engine stopped.
For a moment all she heard was the awful silence, more deafening than any roar.
Then she became aware of the air rushing past the metal skin of the plane, air that no longer supported them. She heard her own heart beating, fast and heavy, heard the whisper of her breath. She heard everything except what she most wanted to hear, the sweet sound of an airplane engine.
Chance didn’t say anything. He concentrated fiercely on keeping the plane level, riding the air currents down, down, aiming for that long, narrow slit in the earth. The plane spiraled like a leaf, coming so close to the jagged mountainside on the left that she could see the pits in the dark red rock.
Sunny bit her lip until blood welled in her mouth, fighting back the terror and panic that threatened to erupt in screams. She couldn’t distract him now, no matter what. She wanted to close her eyes, but resolutely kept them open. If she died now, she didn’t want to do it in craven fear. She couldn’t help the fear, but she didn’t have to be craven. She would watch death come at her, watch Chance as he fought to bring them down safely and cheat the grim horseman.
They slipped below the sunshine, into the black shadows, deeper and deeper. It was colder in the shadows, a chill that immediately seeped through the windows into her bones. She couldn’t see a thing. Quickly she snatched off the sunglasses and saw that Chance had done the same. His eyes were narrowed, his expression hard and intent as he studied the terrain below.
The ground was rushing at them now, a ground that was pocked and scored with rivulets, and dotted with boulders. It was flat enough, but not a nice, clear landing spot at all. She braced her feet against the floor, her body rigid as if she could force the airplane to stay aloft.
“Hold on.” His voice was cool. “I’m going to try to make it to the stream bed. The sand will help slow us down before we hit one of those rocks.”
A stream bed? He was evidently much better at reading the ground than she was. She tried to see a ribbon of water, but finally realized the stream was dry; the bed was that thin, twisting line that looked about as wide as the average car.
She started to say “Good luck,” but it didn’t seem appropriate. Neither did “It was nice knowing you.” In the end, all she could manage was “Okay.”
It happened fast. Suddenly they were no longer skimming above the earth. The ground was there, and they hit it hard, so hard she pitched forward against the seat belt, then snapped back. They went briefly airborne again as the wheels bounced, then hit again even harder. She heard metal screeching in protest; then her head banged against the side window, and for a chaotic moment she didn’t see or hear anything, just felt the tossing and bouncing of the plane. She was boneless, unable to hold on, flopping like a shirt in a clothes dryer.
Then there came the hardest bounce of all, jarring her teeth. The plane spun sideways in a sickening motion, then lurched to a stop. Time and reality splintered, broke apart, and for a long moment nothing made any sense; she had no grasp on where she was or what had happened.
She heard a voice, and the world jolted back into place.
“Sunny? Sunny, are you all right?” Chance was asking urgently.
She tried to gather her senses, tried to answer him. Dazed, battered, she realized that the force of the landing had turned her inside the confines of the seat belt, and she was facing the side window, her back to Chance. She felt his hands on her, heard his low swearing as he unclipped the seat belt and eased her back against his chest, supporting her with his body.
She swallowed, and managed to find her voice. “I’m okay.” The words weren’t much more than a croak, but if she could talk at all that meant she was alive. They were both alive. Joyful disbelief swelled in her chest. He had actually managed to land the plane!
“We have to get out. There may be a fuel leak.” Even as he spoke, he shoved open the door and jumped out, dragging her with him as if she was a sack of flour. She felt rather sacklike, her limbs limp and trembling.
A fuel leak. The engine had been dead when they landed, but there was still the battery, and wiring that could short out and spark. If a spark got to any fuel, the plane and everything in it would go up in a fireball.
Everything in it. The words rattled in her brain, like marbles in a can, and with dawning horror she realized what that meant. Her bag was still in the plane.
“Wait!” she shrieked, panic sending a renewed surge of adrenaline through her system, restoring the bones to her legs, the strength to her muscles. She twisted in his grasp, grabbing the door handle and hanging on. “My bag!”
“Damn it, Sunny!” he roared, trying to break her grip on the handle. “Forget the damn bag!”
“No!”
She jerked away from him and began to climb back into the plane. With a smothered curse he grabbed her around the waist and bodily lifted her away from the plane. “I’ll get the damn bag! Go on—get out of here! Run!”
She was appalled that he would risk his life retrieving her bag, while sending her to safety. “I’ll get it,” she said fiercely, grabbing him by the belt and tugging. “You run!”
For a split second he literally froze, staring at her in shock. Then he gave his head a little shake, reached in for the bag and effortlessly hefted it out. Wordlessly Sunny tried to take it, but he only gave her an incendiary look and she didn’t have time to argue. Carrying the bag in his left hand and gripping her upper arm with his right, he towed her at a run away from the plane. Her shoes sank into the soft grit, and sand and scrub brush bit at her ankles, but she scrambled to stay upright and keep pace with him.
They were a good fifty