***A/N: I am overwhelmingly in awe and humbled by the response the first chapter has received. I honestly thought that if I got ten reviews, I'd be satisfied and happy to continue writing it. Thank you so incredibly much for all the love and support you've shown me. I sincerely hope the rest of this story lives up to all your great expectations.
**I also want to shout out a huge thank you to CoppertopJ, who helped me out by pre-reading and fixing my grammar. I can't express how much I appreciate it. Thank you!
Now let's see how these passengers made it through the crash ;)
...
Chapter 2 – Survival
As I existed somewhere between sleep and awake, pain and numbness, confusion and sanity, I slowly began to realize what happened.
In those first few moments, I was afraid to move.
Was I even alive?
Was my body fully intact?
At that point I wasn't sure about anything at all. But then there was a warm wetness attacking my cheek, and I reflexively pushed it away.
"It's just the dog. Try not to move," someone said. The vaguely familiar voice was just loud enough to hear over the ringing in my ears, but it took another moment for me to even make sense of the words.
I turned to him, and had to wait for my eyes to adjust, before I realized it was the doctor who had been speaking to me.
"Wha… Where?" I mumbled, still slightly disoriented.
I was already in the process of recalling what happened, but it seemed my brain to mouth connection was still trailing behind.
"The plane crashed. You hit your head pretty hard, but that's the least of your problems," he said bluntly.
"What?" I asked, still confused. As my eyes finally began to focus on the mangled mess of scrap metal around me, my adrenaline must have subsided as well, because suddenly my leg felt like it was on fire.
"Something is wrong. My leg!" I cried.
"You have a piece of metal impaled in your thigh. I need to remove it, but when I do you'll bleed out. I'll have to do a little surgery here to close the wound."
"Surgery?" I spat. Even the sound of the word was scary enough to bring me back to full lucidity. I wished it hadn't. I would have rather stayed in that dazed state indefinitely than ever experience the horrific realization of what was about to happen.
"Yes, surgery. You'll die without it," Edward said evenly.
My breathing hiked. "Someone will come help us. I can get whatever surgery I need in a hospital… with anesthesia… and a lot of pain medication."
"I've already tried to call for help. There's no reception here," he informed me.
"I radioed a mayday," I recalled. "The dispatcher heard…"
"We don't know if they heard or not," he interrupted me. "But either way, with the storm below, it may be a while before they can even send out the search and rescue crews. This can't wait that long. Every time you even barely move your leg, it starts bleeding again. The metal needs to be removed now. I'm a doctor, remember. I know how to handle this. You need to trust me. I will make sure you're okay."
"So, you just carry around surgical equipment with you everywhere you go? Maybe instead we can just forge a splint somehow, to keep the metal from moving around so much?" I suggested. I was absolutely terrified and grasping at anything I could in order to change his mind.
His mind wouldn't be changed.
"You'll probably still need some kind of brace after this, but the metal absolutely must come out now. I do carry a medical bag, and there was also a first aid kit here on this plane. Between the two, I have what I need."
"You don't understand. I'm a wimp with pain."
"No, you don't understand. You don't have a choice. This has to come out, and it has to come out here and now. I have all the supplies I need, but I'm not going to lie to you – it will hurt… a lot."
My heart jumped into my throat, and my fear caused uncontrollable tears and shaking.
"Here. Bite down on this," he said, handing me a leather strap of some sort. "Wait, take a drink first. It'll help with the pain."
"Vodka?" I questioned as I took the bottle he was handing me. "I'm no doctor or anything, but won't alcohol make my bleeding worse?"
He nodded. "Alcohol does thin out the blood, but in this case, I think numbing you a little outweighs the risk. If the pain is too great you can go into shock, and that's not good."
I nodded in understanding. "Where did you even get this bottle from? Did you bring it with you on the plane?"
He shook his head. "I found it in Mr. Clearwater's things."
"Oh my god. Harry! Where is he?" I asked concerned as I tried looking behind me.
"Don't move!" Edward chided me.
"Sorry… But where's Harry?" I asked again.
"He didn't make it," he replied evenly.
I gasped, and my shaking increased tenfold. Everything suddenly became very real. It had always been real, but I suppose the gravity of the situation finally hit me fully. Our pilot was dead, and I could be next.
"Miss Swan…"
"Bella," I corrected him.
He grimaced. "Miss Swan, I need you to take a few hefty drinks of that, and then bite down on the strap. Your leg is bleeding again," he told me while fastening his belt tightly around my upper thigh.
I wanted to be irritated by his insistence of using such formal titles, instead of just calling me by my first name, but my fear of what was about to happen overshadowed everything else. More tears spilled over my cheeks, but I reluctantly nodded, and then did as he instructed.
I had never been more afraid of anything in my entire life. The crash had happened so fast that my adrenaline was pumping at top speed. I didn't have time to really be scared. This was different. The anticipation of knowing that intense pain was imminent was utterly horrifying.
I chugged the vodka, and then he took the bottle from me before I could finish it.
"This is going to sting," he warned. Without giving me a moment to realize what he was about to do, he poured the rest of the alcohol right into my open wound.
I screamed out, but the pain just got worse.
"Bite down on the strap," he reminded me.
I did as I was told, but it certainly didn't help with the pain. Hoping to keep myself from thrashing around, I grabbed ahold of anything I could, and held on for dear life.
"Okay, I'm pulling it out on three," he warned.
I nodded, and then squeezed my eyes shut. Every muscle in my body was tensed as I braced for what was sure to be the most excruciating pain of my life.
He began his count down. "One…"
Somehow I managed to squeeze my muscles even tighter. There was an abrupt pressure to my leg, and then...
"Its out," he said unexpectedly.
"What?" I asked perplexed. "What happened to two and three?"
"Anticipation is always worse than the actual pain of anything," he said dryly.
I chanced a peek down at my leg, and I was shocked and relieved that the hunk of metal was gone. The pain was still intense, but it wasn't to the scale I was expecting. Perhaps the vodka was starting to kick in.
Then he started sewing.
Each time his needle stabbed through my torn flesh, I felt it. I cried, and screamed, but the pain just kept coming with each stitch. Over, and over, and over again.
"Try to get your mind off of it," he suggested as he continued to work.
"How?" I spat.
"Tell me something."
"Tell you what?" I cried.
"I don't know. Anything. How about your fiancé? Tell me about him."
I wasn't sure if I could speak through the pain. I could hardly even think through that level of pain, but I did as he suggested, and I tried like hell to first picture his face in my mind.
We had been together for so long. He was the single most compassionate and loving person I had ever known. We had the most beautiful relationship, and I was so incredibly grateful I had him in my life.
Then I was struck with the horrible realization that he was probably going crazy with worry for me at that exact moment. The pain of Edward's stitches made me want to die, but the thought of the man I loved waiting for me back home, forced me to hold on. He had been through so much in his life, I certainly didn't want to add my death on top of it all. If he could survive everything that he endured, I could survive this. I had to.
"What's his name?" Edward prompted, clearly still trying to get me to talk through the pain.
"Garrett," I said through gritted teeth.
I had to pause to scream as he struck a sensitive nerve.
"Keep talking," Edward demanded. "Tell me what Garrett does for a living."
"He's a recruitment officer for the army," I told him. Fighting off the pain with every once of energy I was capable of. "He was on active duty overseas, but he got hurt. Five of his friends died when their convoy ran over a roadside bomb. He lost his leg and had to retire from the field. Kind of ironic that now my leg is messed up too."
"Your leg is going to be just fine… eventually. Even without an X-ray machine, I'm pretty sure it's also fractured. I don't usually handle broken bones, but I'd say you need a cast and six weeks on crutches." He took a heavy sigh. "Shit."
"What?" I cried.
"You're still bleeding out. Hold tight. I need to….."
Suddenly I couldn't hear him speaking anymore, and then everything went black.
...
"Miss Swan?" I heard Edward trying to wake me.
I blinked a few times, and then thankfully I was able to focus again.
"Can you please just call me Bella," I mumbled groggily.
He chuckled lightly, which was strange to hear, given his mostly serious demeanor. It was actually quite a pleasant sound, especially compared to all the horrors of the past several hours.
"Okay Bella," he relented. "Do you know where you are?" he then questioned strangely. Like I could possibly forget.
"Yeah. Are you finished?" I asked, hoping the pain from his stitching was finally done.
"Finished?" he asked confused.
"With my leg," I clarified.
He sighed. "That was two days ago."
"What?" I said hoarsely. I was beyond shocked and horrified. "We've been stranded here for over two days?"
"Yeah. And to be honest, I wasn't sure you were even going to wake up at all. You lost a lot of blood."
He used a small flashlight to shine into my eyes, as he presumably examined my pupil dilation, and then he held my wrist and must have been checking my heart rate. As he looked me over, I noticed his previously clean shaven face was now covered in long stubble. It was just one more visual reminder of our grave predicament.
"You seem to be pulling through now. Which, any longer without nourishment, and your body would have begun to shut down. I was able to give you a little water, but you need some sugar. Here," he said while handing me a piece of some type of wrapped hard candy.
I hesitantly took it, and that was the moment I realized I was famished.
"Is this all we have?" I asked anxiously, as the sticky sweetness rolled around my tongue.
"There's actually some jerky and a few other things Mr. Clearwater brought with him, but you need to start slow since you haven't eaten in two days. Just finish the candy, and then I'll get you something else in a bit."
I nodded, and then I saw the laceration above his eye.
"Were you hurt in the crash?"
"Nothing serious," he said dismissively.
"Are you sure?" I asked unconvinced.
"Bruises. A few cuts. Maybe a cracked rib or two. Nothing I can't handle."
"Cracked ribs? You shouldn't be getting up and down if…"
"I'm fine," he cut me off. "All we need to worry about right now is keeping your leg from bleeding out again, and trying to keep from freezing to death overnight. Last night was pretty bad. It's probably a good thing you were unconscious."
I looked down at the blanket and jackets that were covering me, and then I noticed something else.
"I wasn't wearing this sweater and these pants before," I stated, and then looked at him questionably.
"I went through your luggage. After stitching up your leg, I found you some warmer clothes, and changed you," he said, in a matter of fact manner. "You're actually pretty lucky you brought such warm apparel."
I sighed. "Well, I was out photographing the whales in sub degree temperatures. I wasn't about to go out there in a tank top."
Under any other circumstance, I would have been upset that a stranger went through my things, and even more angry that he dressed me, but in that situation, I could only be grateful.
"Thank you. I would be dead if it wasn't for you," I said graciously.
"Like I said, I thought you were going to die up until the moment you woke up… Then again…" He looked out the cracked window. "You will probably still end up dying out here. We both will."
I laughed once humorlessly. "You're already giving up?"
"You haven't been awake these past two days like I have. You haven't been outside this wreckage. Its…" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news here, but we're seriously screwed. I mean… unless a plane, or a helicopter flies overhead soon… I don't see how it's even possible for us to survive like this for much longer."
"We sent out a mayday," I said confidently, despite his doubts. "The dispatcher heard us. I'm sure there's a search team out there right now. They may even be close. Like you said before, they probably needed to wait out the storm. We just have to stay alive until they find us."
"There hasn't been a single plane overhead the entire time we've been here," he argued.
Suddenly there was a commotion outside, which startled me enough to make me jump.
"Its just the dog," Edward said as the pup trotted back in from wherever he had gone.
"Oh, hi Jake!" I said as he happily came over to greet me. His wagging tail and cold slobbers actually lifted my spirits, even if only for a few moments. "Well, you look good. He wasn't injured by the crash?" I asked Edward.
"Doesn't appear to be. That mutt has hardly taken a rest this entire time. He's constantly going in and out. It's driving me a bit nuts. If we're here much longer, I think we should eat him."
"What?" I replied disgusted. "No way. Why would you even say such a thing?"
"I was actually just being facetious … But now that I'm thinking about it, maybe it's not such a bad idea."
"We are not eating Jake."
"He's an animal. If it's his life or mine, you can bet your ass I'd kill him for food."
I stroked Jake's head, and then scratched his chest as he put his paw on my arm. "Well, we're not at that point yet."
We weren't at the point of killing a pet to survive, but I was the hungriest I had ever been in my life. "What else do we have?"
Edward fumbled around the mess that surrounded us, and then he held up something for me to see.
I gasped with the first spark of hope I felt since the crash. "Cup O'Noodles!"
"Mr. Clearwater must have brought it for his lunch. There's a little pot here too. Just let me start a fire, and I'll boil some snow to make it with."
"Is there more than one?" I asked hopefully.
"No, not that I've found."
"Why didn't you eat it sooner? You must be starving," I asked confused. He said he truly thought I was going to die, and yet, he still didn't feed himself? I was grateful, but slightly baffled.
"Noodles are a nice easy meal for the stomach. I figured if you did wake up after being out of it for a few days, you'd need something light. Beef jerky and pork rinds will just make you sick right now."
"You still didn't have to save it for me… Thank you, Edward."
"No need to thank me. Let's just get your strength back. You need some nourishment in order to heal. I'm going to start the fire."
"Why get my strength back if we're just going to die?" I asked him with a raised brow. I knew he wasn't as pessimistic as he was pretending to be.
"Even though the odds aren't in our favor, I'm still not ready to just roll over and die. We may as well keep ourselves busy with trying to survive… at least while supplies last… Then we eat the dog. It would be better to put him out of his misery anyway. I'm not wasting food on him."
"We are not eating the dog!" I said again sternly.
"We'll see. If you get hungry enough, you may not be so opposed to it anymore."
I just shook my head at him, and decided it wasn't worth the argument. But thinking about the poor dog, something else came to mind.
"Where's Harry," I asked hesitantly as Edward was gathering supplies to start the fire.
"I told you, he didn't make it."
"Yes, but…. where is he?" I asked, and then I had another horrifying thought. "Wait, did you… You didn't eat him, did you?"
Edward narrowed his eyes at me. "I'm not that hungry yet. I'd eat the damn dog before I'd ever eat a person… I buried him outside…"
"You did?"
"Well, I didn't want to waste too much energy on it, so he's not buried very well. I just wanted to make sure he was far enough away from the plane that... he wouldn't attract any predators," he said carefully.
"Oh."
"Its cold enough here that I doubt there are many around, but you just never know. I had to clean up all your blood, and get rid of that mess as well."
"Thank you again," I said quietly.
Harry had seemed like such a nice older man, and even though I didn't know him very well, I was deeply saddened by the loss. Even if we were rescued in the next few hours, I knew I would always be sorrowful about the sweet man's death. It just shouldn't have happened like that.
And then I was faced with one more horrifying reality. "Um… Edward."
"Yeah?"
"I have to… you know." I raised my brows, hoping he'd understand, and have mercy on me by not forcing me to say it out loud.
"You can't move your leg just yet to go outside, so… here," he said before handing me what looked like a dog bowl. "Just try to maneuver yourself on here. Carefully. I'll help you."
It was utterly embarrassing, but again, I just didn't have the luxury of bashfulness. He assisted me in slowly shimmying out of my pants, and then he lifted my weight so I could sit on the bowl. It was weird and uncomfortable, and despite being careful, the minor movements made my leg hurt like hell, but I was happy to not be forced to pee in my clothes.
"Okay, I'm done," I said awkwardly while scooting off, and handing him the bowl.
Edward unexpectedly examined it. "It's a bit dark, but that's to be expected with dehydration and holding it for so long. No blood, so that's good."
Strangely enough, his very professional assessment of my urine actually made me feel fractionally better. He was a doctor. It was nothing he hadn't seen before, and I forced myself to relax a bit.
Edward took the bowl outside, and then he presumably returned to his task of building a fire. I felt useless just sitting there and doing nothing, but I didn't seem to have any other choice.
"You got the fire going?" I asked when Edward returned from outside to fetch the pot.
"Yeah. It looks like Mr. Clearwater was a drinker and a smoker. He had a couple lighters in here."
"Thank god for that," I mumbled.
Edward scoffed at my mention of god, but rather than question him on it, I decided to just let it go. I didn't care to get into a debate of any kind, let alone a debate on religion.
When the noodles were ready, I ate them slowly, and insisted that Edward share some. After two days of nothing, there was too much for my stomach anyway. When we were finished, the plane cabin began to darken, so Edward carefully brought some of the fire inside to keep us warm as we attempted to settle in for the night.
We didn't speak much that evening, but even with the flames, it was so cold that we reclined closely, hoping to share some of each other's heat. Jake came and slept on the other side of me, and I was as warm as possible given the situation.
That night was full of discomfort and pain, but I was grateful to at least get some sleep. When daylight seeped through the holes in the plane once more, I decided I just couldn't sit idle for a moment longer.
"What are you doing?" Edward questioned as I began moving around. "Do you need to use the bowl again?"
"No…. Well, actually now that you mentioned it, yes. But that's not what I was doing. I want to get out of this plane."
"That's not a good idea. You need to keep as still as possible…"
"I can't stay in here any longer. I have to see what's out there. If you don't want to help me, I can do it myself," I said stubbornly.
He considered it for a moment, and then he nodded. "Okay. But first let me try to make you a brace of some sort."
He got to work on building me a makeshift cast with pieces from one of the seats, and then he secured it to my leg. He helped me stand, and even though it was excruciating, I refused to sit back down. I absolutely had to get out of that space and see what we were really up against.
"Hold on. Here, I found these for you," Edward said while handing me my glasses. I was shocked and grateful that he had managed to recover them from the wreckage, and I actually started crying again.
"Wow, you must be pretty blind without them, huh?" he assumed, based on my reaction.
I dried my face, and then shook my head. "No. They're actually not prescription."
"They're not?" he asked confused. "Why do you wear them then?"
"They were my dad's. When he died, I just… couldn't part with them. So I changed out the lenses, and I usually wear them whenever I'm outside. They have a UV resistant coating, so they protect my eyes without altering the light or color of everything." I shrugged. "Being a photographer, I've never liked sunglasses for that reason."
He nodded. "I suppose that makes sense."
"These actually mean a lot to me. Thank you for finding them."
"You're welcome," he said, and then he put his arm around me, and helped me hobble my way out of the wreckage.
The small level of gratitude I felt from having my dad's glasses back, was quickly overshadowed the moment I limped out into the sun. My heart sank into the depths of my stomach as I took in our surroundings for the first time. We weren't just stranded on some mountain, we were lost in what appeared to be a never-ending range of snow covered peaks.
Edward was right. Even if there were dozens of search parties out looking for us, the chance of actually being found were slim to none.
We were seriously screwed.
