Crashing Stephanie

1 The Crash

Steph's head was throbbing, and her ears were ringing. She opened her eyes and could see only light and shadows. Unable to focus, it was like looking through an iced-over window. She instinctively wiggled her fingers and toes, then moved her arms and legs just enough to confirm she could.

She was still alive and, in a whisper, said, "Thank God." Other than her head, she didn't hurt anywhere else. Steph was sure, though, that she would be sore later. After all, who survives a small plane crash without at least getting banged up?

"Breath, Steph," she told herself, "Just keep breathing."

The more she blinked, the clearer her vision became. Steph looked to her left and confirmed her fears. The dark shadow in her peripheral vision was the dead pilot. Steph had never seen a dead person before, much less had one sitting only inches from her.

The pilot's name was Jim, and he had introduced himself just before they boarded the plane. Jim could have been on a poster for what a rugged wilderness bush pilot should look like. Steph had hoped he would be staying at the same resort. If he was, she could see any number of Hallmark movie scenarios playing out between herself and this handsome pilot.

Now, his handsome face was grotesque. His forehead and nose were mis-shaped from the impact with the instrument panel. Blood was dripping from his nose and lips. His lifeless eyes were open and staring blankly down toward Steph's feet.

Surprised she was not totally freaked out and screaming at the sight of a dead person, Steph closed her eyes and reminded herself again to keep breathing.

There was a sudden shift in the crashed plane's position, and her eyes were wide open. She grabbed hold of what was left of the plane to steady herself. The fear she had felt as it first became apparent they were going to crash was back.

Steph looked out and realized the plane was in a tree lodged between several large branches. The plane shifted again, and Steph looked back to where the rest of the aircraft should have been. The plane had broken just behind her seat, and the back part was hanging by several small steel cables.

The plane shifted again, and Steph realized something was moving in the back portion of the plane, causing the part she was in to shift. Luggage started dropping from the open end of the broken fuselage. Steph recognized her new rolling suitcase as it fell fifteen feet to the ground.

Two legs appeared, followed by a waist, upper torso, head, and finally, two arms. The person let go of the seat belt he'd used to lower himself and hit the ground feet first, collapsing onto his side and then coming to rest on his back. The man looked up, and Steph recognized him as the only other passenger.

Steph had seen the man at the terminal but paid him little attention. He was in his late twenties or early thirties, and his looks were nothing special. He had unruly brown hair and brown eyes. He was average height but broader across the chest than most men. His large hands, sticking out of the cuffs of the solid navy blue cotton shirt, seemed out of proportion to the rest of his body.

She had pegged him as a construction worker of some sort. Certainly, not someone she could see herself with. He did not seem affluent, and Steph had wondered if he had won a week at the exclusive resort in a raffle or maybe one of those "third caller wins" radio station games.

When Jim, the pilot, had asked Steph if she wanted to sit in the co-pilot seat, she had been so occupied with Jim as he helped her with her seat belt she had not noticed the other passenger take a seat in the passenger cabin.

The man on the ground asked Steph if she was injured. Steph responded that her head hurt and her ears were ringing. The man said she probably had a concussion. Steph shouted, "Jim is dead!" Then, the emotions caught up with her, and Steph started crying.