He turns to his controls and I ignore the food while he taxis. “Safe Haven Island, Grumman Tiger Alpha Alpha Five, request permission for takeoff.”
“Permission granted,” Dan’s voice crackles through the speakers.
We pick up speed, that sense of lightness comes over the plane, and then we leave the ground. Soaring in an arc away from the mountain, I stare back at it. The island, days ago a green oasis in an aqua pool, is now completely devoid of color. The ocean is the same brownish gray as the land. The only color is the sky above us, and even that is tainted by the still-lingering ash.
We fly over the reef, waves crashing against it, creating a white ring around our island. A tear breaks loose; errant and alone it slides down my cheek. I swipe it away as the island recedes behind us.
“Eat,” Peter reminds me.
I do, pulling out the enclosed silverware and consuming the simple food, not tasting it as I swallow. Having food in my stomach settles me. My eyes grow heavy as I finish it off. I close up the bag, lean back, and drift into sleep.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
I jolt awake, the plane jerking under me, or something like that. I’m disoriented and my stomach cramps hard. The acrid scent of smoke fills my senses. “We’ve got to jump!” Peter yells. “See that island?”
Blinking hard, I manage to focus on the space around me. There are flames coming out of the plane’s engine. Plumes of black smoke dance off them. Beyond that is an island—this one still green. Lots of trees are down, though; it got hit by a tsunami but not the ash.
Peter is talking and I turn to him, trying to catch up. Sweat sheens his skin and his brown eyes flash. “I’m pulling back the roof and we are jumping.”
“What?” The word comes out a croak and Peter holds my gaze hard. His eyes are twin anchors, pulling me into this moment. The plane is crashing and I am about to jump the fuck out of it. I nod. Got it.
Peter’s arm raises up and the roof disappears. Wind batters me. “Here,” Peter pushes goggles into my hand. I pull them on then glance back at Blue. His eyes are trained on me, the wind whipping his fur around. I point at Peter, letting Blue know who to listen to, and then stand. “Take good care of my dog,” I say.
“I will,” Peter promises.
Grabbing onto the edge of the windshield, I pull myself up. The smoke burns my nose. Through the flames I see the jewel of an island below, a white crescent beach calling to me. Here the fuck we go.
I step one leg out onto the wing. Blue leaps up into my seat and Peter starts attaching him to his harness. “Go!” he yells at me.
The distance to the ground doesn’t seem real. None of this does. I grab the handle on the outside of the plane that I used to haul myself in and I bring my other leg out. Peter is already up and moving, Blue attached to his chest. He’s got the bag of supplies too. The guy is a beast.
“Jump!” he yells at me again.
Oh fuck it. I let go and swan dive off the fucking wing, keeping my legs and arms wide, just like Peter told me to. A scream rips free from my throat. How could I not bellow into the void as I plummet toward the ocean. I count and when I reach ten the sensation shifts. I’m weightless, still falling fast and yet cushioned by the air. Time slows even as the island grows.
The wind rushing in my ears creates a cocoon of sound so that it feels almost like silence. Peace wraps around me for one brief moment and then I pull the cord. The parachute unfurls behind me, catches the wind, and I’m yanked into a vertical position.
I grip the handles and put all my focus onto the task of guiding myself to the crescent beach. The plane arches in front of me, headed straight for the island too. Where are Peter and Blue? I crane my neck and see them behind me, a periwinkle blue chute ballooning above them. Blue hangs from Peter’s chest, his legs loose.
Returning my attention to the island, I take a deep breath. Pain surges up my spine and wraps around my middle. What the fuck? My breath disappears and it takes all my focus not to curl around my body. As the pain begins to recede, I try to focus on the beach again, my fingers tight on the handles.
The plane goes into a spin, the black smoke twirling behind as it plummets toward the island. It crashes into the jungle, exploding—flames and black smoke leaping into the sky.
Okay, okay, okay. I’m okay. We are okay.
Just focus on the beach. My eyes rivet onto the curl of white sand. Relax. You can do this. I focus my mind on my breath and let my body do what it needs—my arms shift the shape of the parachute, aiming for the beach. I’ve never done this before but I know how to move through space. I’ve spent the last six years training my body, learning to work with it…to trust it.
I let it do what it needs to do. I let it guide me. Then another pain comes, a vise around my stomach. Pressure builds. A popping sound and some of the pressure releases. A gush of water runs down my legs.
What the fuck?
Oh my god.
My fucking water just broke.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
I skim over the waves, my feet almost touching. The beach is right in front of me. I start to pedal my legs. My left foot touches first and I’m racing across the sand. The weight of my body—so much fucking weight—hits and I stumble but don’t go down. As I reach the tree line, the wind whips my parachute into the ground, tugging at me.
I turn, grab the risers, just like Peter told me to, and yank them down. The chute—billowy and wild—collapses into itself and hits the sand. I step quickly to the right, folding one side and then a contraction hits me as I go to the left. It bends me over and I lose all my breath.
I grit my teeth and groan as the pain ripples over me, tightening my stomach, and making my vision spot. It fades slowly. My hands are shaking. Blue appears at my side; his wet nose swipes my cheek. Then Peter is there. He unstraps the chute and releases it from my body.
I stumble toward the closest tree and lean against it, letting my eyes close and my breath even out. Blue stays close.
“I never want to fly again,” I tell him. Blue whines and moves closer, leaning his body against mine.
“Hey,” Peter says, “how are you doing?”
“Terrible. My water just fucking broke.” I turn to him and another contraction comes. It rides up my spine, curling around and gripping my stomach, forcing me to squeeze my eyes and suck air through my teeth. I grip Peter’s shoulder, my fingers digging into the hard muscle as the contraction takes me. I’m being split in two. I can’t survive this.
“Breathe.” His voice sounds distant. I’m hearing it through the storm of my own pain. “You can do this,” he says, his voice stronger as the contraction passes.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I seethe through gritted teeth. “We just jumped out of a plane that was crashing and are now on an island in the middle of the fucking Pacific that is on fucking fire from the aforementioned crashing fucking plane. And I am having a baby!” Blue’s nose taps my hip, reminding me he is there. It does nothing to comfort me in this totally fucked moment.
