Shattered by the Sea Lord - Starla Night Page 0,20
Every bounce, the metal shuddered. Pens and plastic cups levitated, and the profile papers fluttered across the interior. The plane dipped left.
The wing slammed into the rock-hard Atlantic and sheared off.
Dannika smacked into the window. She let go of Ciran’s hand.
The world swirled.
She didn’t lose consciousness, but she went into some kind of fog because the next thing she actively noticed was that they’d stopped moving and Ciran was shaking her.
“Dannika. Dannika wake up.”
“I am awake,” she tried to say as she pushed up, but in fact what came out was, “Ama hunga nuggh.”
He continued to shake her, trying to get to something in her stomach.
Tough seatbelt.
“Okay,” she said, and this time it sounded like the real world. “All right. Okay.”
And then the whole crash flooded back—and she was alive.
They had survived!
She gasped for breath, the very wind knocked out by the shock. Their saboteurs had failed! She was alive, and Ciran, yanking at her seat as though to tear the belt out by the bolts, was also alive. She hadn’t taken him with her. Oh, thank goodness. Yes, yes, yes. She sagged into the seat. Her hands trembled. They were all gloriously alive.
But what about Val?
Dannika angled to look down the aisle into the cockpit.
Val was moving.
Good!
Oh, they had all survived. Wonderful. Ha ha! Dannika probed her face. No new holes. Everything was where it was supposed to be. She didn’t feel great—her head throbbed and the seatbelt constricted painfully—but she couldn’t complain.
They had survived.
Val staggered out of the pilot seat with a duffel bag over one shoulder. Blood gushed from a nasty cut in her forehead. She looked like a horror movie actress. “You’ve got her? You’ve got her out? I can’t believe we survived. Did you get her?”
“Trying.” Ciran straightened. “How can I release this?”
“The seatbelt?” Dannika traced the woven fabric to the buckle. “You just…”
The seatbelt dangled.
A length of metal had whipped around and slammed across her center like an amusement park lock-ride. The only reason it hadn’t cut her in half was that it had embedded in the chair's frame.
Val shouldered her bag and grabbed the metal with Ciran. “Ready? Set? Pull!”
They both yanked.
Nothing.
The pressure across her midsection increased as though noticing it made it hurt more. Dannika focused on meditation, shallow breathing, wiggling. Anything to lessen the pain.
They had time. They’d survived an airplane crash on the ocean! They had…
Cool, wet liquid soaked her bare feet.
When had she taken off her sandals? She couldn’t remember.
Blue water slapped the cracked window.
The plane creaked. Water sloshed up to her ankles.
No.
“The water,” Dannika said. “It’s seeping in.”
“I do not fear the water,” Ciran said.
“But, uh, right now, I do.” She wrapped her fingers around the slender rod. It was so small. So skinny. How could it cause so much resistance?
“We’re going to get you out, Dannika.” Val panted. “As the plane sinks, it’ll fall apart. Are you one of these mer? Can you breathe?”
“No.”
“Right. Okay. Let’s try again.” Val positioned herself around the opposite side of the metal rib to push while Ciran pulled. “Now or never. Really put your legs into it. Ready? Now!”
She and Ciran strained. Dannika pushed. Sweat dripped down Ciran’s face. His muscled bulged and trembled.
Water gurgled up to the back of Dannika’s knees. It was a pleasantly cool temperature. Just like a morgue.
Panic shot through her. Dannika whacked the bar. Her hands ached.
It didn’t move.
Val and Ciran both let go.
Val bent over, panting, and then straightened. “This isn’t working.”
“But it has to,” Dannika gasped.
“Wait here.” Val sloshed up the angled aisle to the tail where it was still dry, and forced open drawers. “Not here. Not good. What about…also not here. Did they get the whole emergency kit? I am going to fill their shorts with fire ants and hang them by their short hairs… We have a raft! Must not have expected me to land it, the spittoon-swilling sons of mustard. How about…yes. Ciran!” Val handed him a crowbar.
Ciran wedged it between the seat and the rib and pushed.
The chair rattled.
“The bolts,” Val said. “Underneath. Pop the whole seat free.”
He forced it under the seat. Something popped.
Yes!
The seat did not swing free.
“I need to get out before the water rises.” Val gripped the emergency door handle. Fear, anger, anguish crossed her face. “If I can help, Ciran…”
“Go.” His biceps strained to bend tons of metal against the trauma forces that had caused them to collide. “I can only rescue one human. It will be Dannika.”