Chapter 6

The last thing Sam wanted to do was sift through the wreckage looking for Vivien's luggage or something salvageable. He should have been in DC tracking down leads and haranguing anyone who would listen to him, pleading for Fiona's release. But he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with no foreseeable way of getting out, so he did his best. His first thought would have been to check out the galley for food, but that went up in flames with the engines. There was nothing left to recover. The fuselage lay on its side, no longer upside down, which made it easier to search the cargo hold. Sam had to crawl through it, but in the end, all he found of any use was Vivien's suitcase.

As he turned around so his legs were heading out of the front first, his knee hit the edge of a hard silver case. "Ow! What the..." He tossed Vivien's bag out of the ripped up opening and reached for the offending piece of luggage. Only it wasn't another suitcase. Whatever it was, it was locked, and it wasn't an easy one to pick, but Sam did it with a thin metal strip that came from God knew where. He sucked in a breath as he opened the case and found a smorgasbord of weaponry: a police-issue Glock, and two Berettas, along with a collapsible sniper rifle. Wonder who on board was packing this kind of heat! Packs of ammunition were tucked around the sides, and all of this nested in foam rubber. Guess I don't have to worry about us not being armed!

Sam chose a Beretta and loaded it before closing up the case and taking it and Vivien's luggage back to the cabin. His stomach rumbled and he felt dizzy again, which reminded him that he hadn't eaten anything since those couple of bites of ancient granola bar the night before. His head pounded from the lack of food and caffeine, which meant he was to the point that whatever she made, he would eat it. Consuming something less than palatable was par for the course in the field, and Sam was well-versed in the practice. He'd suck it up and endure.

A twig snapped from somewhere deep in the woods and Sam stopped as his head swiveled around. His eyes scanned the forest, but there was nothing out there. Then he saw it: a small deer was almost perfectly camouflaged in some dry brush about fifty yards away.

"I should have picked the sniper rifle," he muttered to himself. Slowly, so painstakingly slow, he set the cases down on the pathway. Then he reached for the gun, slid off the safety, and raised the weapon.

The deer looked at him, its eyes big and its body locked in fright. Sam aimed carefully. Trying to shoot a deer with a Beretta at this distance was crazy, but if it got them a good meal or two, he was willing to take a chance. Aiming for the head wasn't easy; if he hit it, most likely one shot would take it down, since it was so small. Anywhere else, and it would run until it bled out, and he sure didn't want to have to chase a deer through the woods. He squeezed the trigger, the gun fired, and the deer took off. He fired a couple more rounds, but the animal ran off to live another day.

"Crap, I missed." He put the safety back on, tucked the gun into his waistband, and picked up the cases.

He arrived at their temporary shelter to find Vivien standing outside the cabin, scanning the woods. She caught sight of him and called, "Hey, did you hear those shots?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, grinning. "That was me trying to hit a deer."

"You? How..." Her eyes focused on the black butt of the gun sticking out of his waistband. "Where'd you find that?"

"On the plane. Someone was packing, for what, I don't know. But their loss is our gain. We've got a nice stock of ammunition, three handguns and a rifle."

"Well you should have used the rifle. Duh!"

"Remind me next time to leave your entire closet behind at the crash site, and then I could have carried the rifle," Sam retorted as he dropped her luggage roughly at her feet. "Or I could leave it on the trail and your highness can go get it herself."

"Wow. What'd I say?" Vivien looked after him as he went into the cabin without another word. She grabbed the handle of her case and rolled it over the bumpy ground and inside. "Hey, I'm sorry, whatever I said to set you off like that."

"No, I'm sorry," Sam mumbled as he sat in a squeaky office chair and dropped his head into his hand.

Vivien closed the cabin door, approached him, and knelt down at his feet. She reached for his wrist and took his pulse.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm checking on you. Your pulse is racing, and you're sweating."

"I just hauled your gargantuan piece of luggage a quarter mile, uphill." He sat up straighter and looked at her. "How do you think my pulse is going to be after that?"

She brought her gear over to him and checked his blood pressure. Then she shone a penlight into his eyes, but he blinked in protest. She sighed, "Sam, you're the worst patient ever! Will you just sit for a minute and let me check you out? Please?"

"Fine. You've got 60 seconds," he said and glanced at his watch.

Vivien shook her head and worked fast. Before her time was up, she said, "I'm worried about you and that concussion. With the lack of food and water, and you've been pushing yourself...it's not good. You need something to eat and drink and get some rest."

"Well, I'll take some of that water. Did you manage to do anything with the limited food stores?"

Vivien made a face. "Not really. My attempt at softening up the granola bars resulted in them falling apart and just floating on the surface of the water. So it's like granola gazpacho."

"Better than nothing at all. I'll take it."

She handed him a plastic bowl she found in the cabinet, and like she said, the bits and pieces of granola floated on the surface. "I'm afraid you'll just have to drink it. No spoons."

"No problem." He took one sip. "Oh man," he laughed. "This is pretty bad."

"Yeah. Trust me, if I had the proper resources, I could cook you a heck of a meal."

"Sorry I didn't get that deer."

"If you had, I would have thought you were beyond belief, Sam. You're lucky you could hold the gun steady." She picked up his arm by the wrist and noted that his hand shook. "You're suffering from a drop in blood sugar. I went through the same thing until I subjected myself to that...stuff. I threw in some raisins. Between the natural sugar and the iron, it'll help you get more stable."

"Thanks, Viv. I appreciate everything you're doing."

She shrugged. "Just trying to survive."

They fell silent as Sam finished his meager lunch. He put up with her watching him as if she would clock him if he didn't finish it, slurped up the last of the raisins that stuck to the bottom of the bowl, and Vivien took it from him. Then she dropped two tablets in his hand and gave him a bottle of water.

"Take these for the headache, and then you should lay down for a little while and sleep."

"We should be trying to get out of here."

"Not yet. Maybe later this afternoon. Just humor me and rest for a little bit, okay?"

"Okay," Sam agreed reluctantly and dropped onto the blankets that Vivien set on the floor for him. She created a pillow using her suit jacket rolled up and tucked it under his head, and folded the quilt over him.

"I'll wake you up in a couple hours. In the meantime, I'll study that map and see if I can figure out where to go."

Sam let out a sigh as he folded his arms close to his body and tucked his hands under his head. He closed his eyes and seemed to drift off quickly, but then he surprised her when he mumbled, "Viv, you'd make a great SEAL."

"Thanks, Sam." She smiled and moved to the desk to study the map. To herself, she muttered, "We need to get you out of here. But until I know how to do that, we're not going anywhere. It doesn't make sense to get lost in the woods without shelter."

A rumble of thunder agreed with her. The sky darkened and large drops of rain hit the window. Vivien turned on the lantern to better see the map, because the rain fell so hard, it cut the light coming in the window by half. Then the light dimmed a lot more, and she looked up and screamed.