Page 37 of Burnin' For You
Cliff. But Reuben watched as she picked her way back to the plane, the slightest hesitation on one side.
Shewashurt.
But yeah, not as bad as CJ or Jed. Reuben shot a glance at Hannah, who had gotten up now, still just staring at him. “Are you okay?”
Overhead, the sky looked unblemished by their disaster, blue and bright, just the finest cloud of smoke past the ridge of mountains. On either side of their crash site, scrub brush gave way to forest, towering spruce, pine. Along the edges of the creek, downed, stripped trees and massive boulders suggested a once-abundant flow.
Looking back at the plane, Reuben realized they’d fallen on a boulder the size of a Fiat, almost like an albatross landing on its back, the front end propped up, tail section splintered in two.
He guesstimated they’d fallen maybe twenty feet off the side of the dry waterfall into the ravine. Bounced into the shallow pool below, skidded, and landed on the boulder.
A flight overhead should be able to spot them, if Gilly could raise HQ on the radio.
“Cliff?” He raised his voice, heard it echo, but no voice answered. He started for the far edge of the plane, scrambling over rocks, trying not to turn his foot in pockets of rock and debris.
Another glance at Hannah, and this time she was pointing. He followed her gaze.
His heart about stopped.
Cliff had clearly fallen out of the plane mid-tumble, because his body lay cast from the plane half-way down the falls, his bones broken by a bed of jagged granite. Even from here, Reuben couldn’t make out how he might have lived. And as he grew closer, he saw the man’s ribs protruding from his jacket—no smokejumper padding for him.
He worked his way up to Cliff, where he lay on the rocks, a pool of blood under his skull, his eyes still open. “Aw, Cliff, I’m sorry.” Reuben checked Cliff’s pulse, then gently closed his eyes.
He paused, not sure what to do. Then he took off his bandanna and placed it over the man’s face.
He climbed down, shot a look at Hannah, but she’d turned her back to him, pacing now at the edge of the forest.
Reuben spotted Gilly in the plane, seated on the floor, working the radio. His fleeting hope disintegrated when she threw off the headset with an accompanying epitaph of disgust.
Reuben scrambled back to CJ, knelt beside him. He still hadn’t moved, but his breathing seemed steady.
Reuben needed to find a cold pack for CJ’s head. And a blanket—yes. He stumbled back to the plane, feeling strangely woozy, as if—yep, he was going to lose it.
He held it together long enough to get to the edge of the forest, lean against a tree as he lost the muffin from Hot Cakes.
Nice.
He drew a hand across his mouth, though, feeling better, and guessed he might have a concussion.
“Here.”
He turned, found Hannah holding out her water bottle and a bandanna.
He cleaned out his mouth. Then he tied the bandanna around his wound.
He glanced at Hannah.
Hannah was one of the tough ones. Feisty, determined to finish the summer despite already living through a flashover, landing in the hospital with second-degree burns, and now surviving a plane crash. Or maybe not quite so feisty, because her expression seemed close to unraveling. She bit her lip. Swallowed.
“Is he dead?”
Reuben glanced at Cliff, back to Hannah.
“No—I meant CJ.”
Reuben shook his head. “I don’t think so—”
And as if in answer, he heard a yell, something feral, that rent the air.