Expect the Sunrise by Susan May Warren Read Free Book Online

and Mac made a face.
    “We’ll have to go out the pilot-side door.” Emma unlatched it, then pushed it open with her feet. It groaned on its hinges, then cracked. Emma startled, as if reliving their harrowing descent.
    They all startled really. Mac felt his nerves buzz right below his skin, and adrenaline made him light-headed.
    “Let’s see what we can find to get your friend out,” Mac said, trying to keep them focused. He sucked in his breath as he squeezed out between the rock face and the door.
    Emma climbed out of the wreckage and stumbled away from the plane, rubbing her shoulder.
    They’d wedged against a fall of Volkswagen-sized boulders. It had probably stopped all of them from becoming flapjacks by bracing up the tail section, which lay nearly severed from the plane somewhere on the other side of the boulders. They must have cartwheeled, although Mac didn’t remember much—lots of blurring and screaming, heat and fear.
    Mac surveyed the debris trail that littered the wake of their crash. The belly pod had ripped off, most likely at the same time as the struts. Baggage had ripped open, strewing socks, shirts, backpacks, papers, books, and shoes in the churned-up tundra. The air smelled of gasoline, and the cloud cover that had taken them down moved in to finish them off. Mac tasted snow in the air, and the wind whipped his jacket against his body. They seemed to have landed in a high bowl. Jagged peaks framed his view from every direction, spires of ice and cold and death that ringed them in and would obstruct any attempt at communication.
    “Did anyone hear the Mayday?” he asked Emma.
    “I don’t know,” she said, picking her way through the debris. “We need to evacuate the passengers right now. I don’t know how much fuel spilled, and the engine’s still hot. Help me find something to put Sarah on.”
    Emma stepped around the remnant of the left wing, which Mac guessed had been sheared off during the spectacular landing, and as he watched, she lifted it and tugged out a backpack. Pulling it free, Emma took out a knife from her belt—where had she gotten that?—and cut off the straps holding the external metal frame to the canvas.
    A backboard.
    “Good thinking,” he said as she worked.
    She didn’t respond, her movements tight, nearly robotic. Then again, her friend had a serious head injury. Apparently that drove Emma’s thoughts for now. That and the smell of gas and a few sparks still jumping from the instrument panel.
    Yes, get the passengers out—fast.
    He noticed that the bump in the center of her forehead had swelled and turned purple. “Your head looks bad. Are you feeling dizzy?”
    She looked at him. In her dark brown eyes, he saw the inklings of fear, despite her seeming calm. What he didn’t want was for the fear to take over and invade everything else. He needed her calm until he figured out where they were.
    “It’ll be okay. We’ll get through this.” Only, even to him, his words sounded empty. Especially with the wind swooping down the sides of the bowl, carrying winter in its breath, flattening their clothes to their bodies, stinging their ears.
    She nodded. “I know.” And just like that, the emotion vanished, her eyes became flat, her mouth set in a grim line.
    Phillips emerged from the plane, groaning and holding his chest. A big man, he’d probably have bruises from the seat belt.
    Ishbane had already exited and sat not far away, shaking. He held his hand to his bloody nose. Mac guessed it might be broken.
    “What about Nina and Flint?” Emma asked as they maneuvered the makeshift backboard close to the plane.
    As if on command, Flint emerged. He held his knee, gritting his teeth.
    “Are you okay?” Emma pulled his arm over her shoulder and assisted him as he limped out.
    He settled with a moan. “I think so. It’s an old injury. Probably just twisted it.” But by the grimace on his face, Mac had his doubts.
    “See if you can find a towel or a piece of