Missing by Darrell Maloney Read Free Book Online Page B

fuselage that had to weigh a ton or better, kept calling her name.
         Hannah studied the arm again, desperate to know. She’d known John for years now… considered him one of her best friends.
         And she knew he had tattoos. She remembered seeing the words “Semper Fi” tattooed on his shoulder once when she was giving him a haircut.
         But even as well as she knew him, she couldn’t say for sure if he had the letters “USMC” tattooed on the inside of his right forearm.
         Like the arm that peeked out from the piece of fuselage.
         She hadn’t seen John since the crash. Hadn’t seen anyone, in fact. As far as she knew, she was the only survivor.
         And she knew in her heart she wouldn’t survive long without help.
         Suddenly there was a sound. Of what? It was a scratching noise, barely perceptible.
         No. It was a dragging sound. Coming from the area past the arm.
         Hannah strained to see who or what was making the sound, but the sun was setting and the area around the crash site was getting dim.
         Finally, around the side of what was left of the propeller assembly, a weak and damaged figure emerged.
         It was the crewman who’d strapped them into their seats just before they left Kelly Air Force Base.
         The one who told her it was bad luck not to smile for the man who buckled her in. The man who told her she was beautiful and who pointed out that he was single and looking for a mate.
         She’d been told that by many men over the years. But she was still flattered, and gently told the man she was happily married and had a child.
         She’d laughed when the man said, “Dang it!” as though he were genuinely heartbroken.
         She wondered if he’d be the last man to ever tell her she was beautiful.
         He dragged two legs behind him as he clawed his way across the ground. One was tied off with a tourniquet just above the knee. The leg below that was gone.
         The other leg was intact, but was crushed almost beyond recognition. She saw a piece of femur protruding through the flight suit on his upper right leg, and found herself trying to remember how to treat an open fracture.
         She could tell by the paleness of his face that he’d lost a lot of blood, and that he was quite probably in shock.
         Still, as he saw her his face seemed to change. He seemed to gain motivation to keep crawling toward her.
         As he drew closer, she was able to squeak out a few words: “Are you okay?”
         The question seemed ludicrous in the face of the obvious.
         But he didn’t seem to notice.
         It seemed, in fact, that it took her words several seconds to even register.
         Then in a tone perhaps meant to reassure her, or maybe to console her, he mustered, “I’ve been better. How about you?”
         She said, “I can’t feel my legs. I don’t know if they’re still there.”
         He managed a smile in what must have been a truly monumental effort.
         “Oh, they’re still there. I was checking them out on the other side. Nice legs. How about the rest of you?”
         “I think I’m bleeding internally. And I think at least one of my ribs is broken.”
         She spoke barely above a whisper, and in short breaths. Any effort beyond that brought her incredible pain.
         She looked again at the arm, and she had to know. Was that the arm of her good friend John? Or was John somewhere else? Perhaps himself injured and hurting on the other side of the crash site?
         “Please, I have to know. My friend John. Did he make it?”
         The crewman looked at the arm, where Hannah had been directing her attention moments before. Then he looked at Hannah with the most agonizing look on his face.
         She braced herself for the bad news that she was sure was coming.
         The crewman would have preferred to be a thousand