Page 30 of Reckless Woman

Dig your grave.

Suffer the consequences.

Vindicta

Fuck.Fuck. Fuck.

I quickly stuff it into the front side pocket of my jeans. When I turn back to Eli, he’s already passed out.

What follows next is a hollow core of silence as my fate is sealed and Santiago’s jet becomes my tomb. There’s no point calling for help. I’ve killed every transmittable signal in and out. It’s just me, all alone is a dying aircraft, with no fuel and little faith.

Ten-thousand feet.

Nine-thousand feet.

Eight-thousand feet.

I tick off each altitude drop. It’s a countdown to my End Game. The storm has nixed any hope of a smooth glide. We’re a broken ship at sea, being tossed about by wind and gravity.

Seven-thousand feet.

Six-thousand—

“Goddammit!” I roar again, the word bursting from me as my composure cracks. I try in vain to pull the aircraft up as her nose starts to dip.

It wasn’t supposed to end this way. Not after I finally found her, loved her and made her mine.

“Falling into hell so soon, little brother?”

Cash slides into the empty co-pilot seat and waits for his presence to be acknowledged.

“Five-thousand feet,” I holler, not giving him the satisfaction, gripping the shuddering joystick so hard it’s close to snapping off.

“The ending won’t be so bad,” I hear him say, with a shrug in his voice. He brushes dried blood off the thigh of his blue Levi’s. “No worse than getting the side of your face blown off by Pa.”

“I’m not dying today, Cash,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “I’ve got a twister waiting for me.”

Four-thousand feet.

“Not dying? You sure about that?” He laughs, a sound that’s full of dirt and scorn. “You’ve no fuel, no pilot, no chance…”

At that moment, the clouds part and there she is: shining so fucking bright and silver she’s blasting hope into my midnight hour.

“I’ll be seeing you real soon, Joey,” Cash whispers, rising from his seat to join the other dead bodies behind me.

Three-thousand feet.

Two-thousand feet.

I see a scattering of lights below as I execute the landing gear. The horizon is a jagged silhouette of a mountain range that’s going to rip us apart.

One-thousand feet.

I wait for my life to flash before my eyes, but all I see is her.

Messy.

Unconventional.