Unseen Messages

This felt right.

  Akin’s voice filled my head through the heavy headset. It cancelled out some of the rotor noise but not enough to hear him clearly. “Going to get a bit bumpy. Air mass up ahead.”

  My chest tightened. Okay, perhaps I spoke too soon. Fear unspooled as the first turbulent jiggle shook us.

  The Evermores clutched their children.

  I hugged my collection of handbags and backpacks.

  Another jolt of air pressure and slam of rotor blades reminded me we weren’t safely on the ground anymore. We were high in the sky, at the mercy of gravity and nasty weather.

  Why did I do this again?

  No one spoke as we flew farther out to sea.

  My breathing turned shallow as the turbulence steadily became worse. I stopped breathing a couple of times as pockets of air opened beneath us, hurtling us down only for an updraft to propel us back up.

  I’d never suffered airsickness (until my previous flight), but the brewing of illness returned, steadily growing the longer we flew. We became a snake in the sky, slithering left then right. We’d yaw sideways then correct. We’d bounce upward then stabilize.

  Through it all, Galloway sat up front, muttering to the pilot on a frequency I couldn’t hear. The tension in the two men’s shoulders fed my anxiety. Galloway’s chocolate hair looked almost as dark as Akin’s black in the gloom.

  Akin was a good pilot, remaining calm and focused. But he couldn’t hide the discomfort or immense concentration it took to remain airborne in such storm-churned weather.

  I closed my eyes.

  Don’t think about that.

  Think about where you’ll be in an hour or so.

  It wouldn’t be long before I could check into heaven, say goodbye to pig-headed Galloway, and be on my own once again. I’d rent a private room with no noise or city chaos. I’d have the best sleep of my life and then relax and compose new songs around the pool after a delicious breakfast of pastries and fresh fruit.

  Sounds perfect.

  After a week of recharging, I’d return home fully relaxed and able to work hard for my new agent and producer.

  The stress trickled from my blood, even as another swirl of bumpy air jerked me against my seat belt.

  “Bit rough, isn’t it?” Duncan nudged his shoulder with mine.

  Unwillingly, I let my illusion dissolve to look at him. “We’ll be okay.” I didn’t know where my words of comfort came from—they had no foundation.

  Amelia shifted Pippa on her knee, bumping me. “I never did like flying. Would much prefer a boat or something closer to the ground.”

  I smiled, forcing myself to be friendly even while squashed in a helicopter and drowning in people’s bags. Galloway’s messenger bag sat on top, right beneath my nose. The scent of his aftershave (or was it possible to smell that good with no manmade sprays?) intoxicated me with every inhale. A delectable-terrible mix of musk, cedar, and...was that liquorice?

  It was one of the best scents in the world—much better than the oil-fumy helicopter.

  Damn him for enticing my nose as well as my eyes.

  Pippa reached out and grabbed my wrist. Her warm fingers clutched me as another burp of air buffeted us.

  Without thinking, I brought my wrist to my lips and kissed her knuckles. “It’s okay. Just the wind.”

  Amelia gave me a grateful smile.

  Pippa hugged her stuffed kitten.

  “What’s your cat called?” I had to yell rather than whisper comfortingly with the crackling headset.

  Pippa bit her lip, shaking her head shyly.

  Amelia answered for her. “Puffin.”

  “Puffin? That’s an interesting name for a kitten.”

  Amelia smoothed her daughter’s matching copper hair. “Puss in Boots. But someone had trouble with the ‘Puss in’ part and it slowly morphed to Puffin.”

  “Ah.” I ran my fingers over the well-loved cuddly toy. “It’s a perfect name.”

  Pippa beamed.

  Focusing on the little girl rather than the rocking helicopter, I said, “Want to know a secret?”

  Pippa’s eyes shot wide, the headset far too big for her tiny head. She nodded.

  “I have a kitty, too. But it’s real. I have a house sitter looking after him while I travel, but I can’t wait to cuddle him like you are.”

  Pippa’s mouth fell open.

  Amelia laughed. “Isn’t that cool, Pip? Perhaps, if you’re good when we get home, we can see about getting one, too.”

  The undiluted joy on the girl’s face almost brought me to tears.

  For a while, we all sat in our individual thoughts. We flew quickly over islands and ocean. My daydream came back, and I allowed the trance of icy cocktails and sunbaking to steal me away from the whop whop of rotor blades.

  I lost track of time.

  Sleepiness found me, even with the air turning us into a tennis ball and hitting us with its battering blows. Conner’s voice mingled with his father’s as they tried to play ‘I Spy’ out the rain-drenched windows.

  Pippa snuggled with Puffin, nuzzling into her mother’s neck, and Galloway turned to check on us, his eyes shadowed by his glasses but still intense enough to conjure goosebumps.

  I sat frozen beneath his inspection. His throat worked as he swallowed, never tearing his gaze from mine. I waited for him to turn around so I could breathe again.

  But he didn’t.

  Slowly, his eyes dropped to my lips, warming and cooling at the same time.

  What do you want from me?

  Who are you?

  Questions glowed on his face, mimicking mine. I’d never met someone I’d had such an instantaneous reaction (both good and bad) with. Half of me wanted to argue with him while the other half wanted to silently stare.

  His hand moved to the microphone by his lips. His mouth parted to speak.

  I didn’t move or blink, waiting to see what he would do.

  But then, it happened.

  The bottom of the sky vanished.

  We fell.

  My stomach was left a few metres above, making me horribly hollow.

  A microsecond later, we slammed into a wall of air, curtailing our fall and crunching our spines into the leathered bench.

  “Oh, my God!” Amelia screamed.

  Pippa’s eyes welled up with tears.

  What the hell was that?

  “Hold on!” Akin bellowed in the headphones. “The storm was bigger than I thought and left behind disrupted air pockets. I’m going to have to go around and avoid what I can’t see.”

  Galloway spun to face the front. His voice came over the frequency. “What flight range does this thing have?”

  Good question.

  Fear of running out of fuel and nosediving into the sea swamped me.

  Akin never answered, focusing too hard on swooping us to the right and hurtling us higher into the sky.

  I hugged my lap of luggage.

  Please let us be okay.

  Please.

  Pippa cried on her mother’s knee while Conner clutched his father. Duncan gave me a worried smile that was anything but encouraging. My racing heart turned into a jackhammer, splitting my ribcage with panic.

  There were no more sparkly lights outside. No sign of life or habitation. It was just us and blackness as we bounced and skipped wherever the wind wanted to take us.

  This was a stupid, stupid idea.

  We were all idiots to fly in such weather.

  “Shit!” Akin’s curse sliced through my ears, bringing a rush of prickly adrenaline.

  A second later, the world ended.

  It was quieter than I’d imagined. Less sharp with imminent death and more befuddled with confusion.

  The engine screamed, trying to get us to a safe altitude. But we lost height instead. We didn’t plunge like before but hovered—almost as if the moon cast a fishing line and hooked us, dangling us as bait for something big to snatch.

  Our trajectory stalled.

  We we
re weightless

  soundless

  motionless.

  Then the inevitable happened.

  I said inevitable because everything (every delay, every occurrence, every unseen message) had been warning me of this and I didn’t listen.

  I didn’t listen!

  Whatever creature the moon had been fishing for, took hold. We jerked then an explosion ricocheted through the cabin. The rotor blades suddenly flapped down so they were visible through the windows, bending like broken wings. The spectacle disappeared as quickly as it happened, snapping upward and tearing free from the mast.

  They came free.

  The blades keeping us airborne—the very things determining if we survived or died—snapped off.

  They abandoned us.

  No!

  We turned from flying machine to plummeting grenade.

  Falling,

  falling,

  falling.

  Dying...

  Through fear and disbelief one thought blared.

  One number.

  One date.

  29th of August.

  The day we left the world of the living and became lost.

  Chapter Eight

  ...............................................

  G A L L O W A Y

  ......

  I’D THOUGHT ABOUT death.

  Who wouldn’t when their mother died right in front of them? How could I not when I’d been the cause of someone else’s?

  I’d wondered if there was an existence after death. I’d sat in the dark and begged for no afterlife because if there was a heaven, then there was a hell, and I would rot there forever.

  I hated myself for wishing away a heaven where my dead mother might’ve found peace purely because I worried for my immortal soul.

  But I was a prick, a bastard, and now, the world had finally agreed to kill me. I wasn’t worth its resources any longer.

  I had to be exterminated.

  There would be no reincarnation—not after what I’d done. I didn’t want my fate, but I accepted it. I just hated that innocent people had to die beside me.

  The helicopter went from saviour to dementor.

  The air turned violent, spewing us from its domain.

  The spinning blades keeping us afloat vanished.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  We spun like a top, over and over and over.

  My ears popped.

  My head pounded.

  My life unravelled heartbeat by heartbeat.

  There was no way to stop it. Gravity wanted us. It would have us.

  All of us. Not just me.

  I forced my eyes open. The water-drenched windshield showed no answers but I knew. I felt it. I sensed the earth coming faster and faster to meet us. A killing welcome party of water or land, waves or trees.

  I couldn’t see.

  I can’t see!

  My fingers dug into the worn leather of the seat, the life-jacket cocooned me, and the seat belt across my chest kept me pinned for the worst adventure of my life.

  Screams echoed behind me as the helicopter ripped itself apart.

  The handbags and belongings Estelle held tore from her grip, clattering around the cabin.

  The kids wailed.

  The pilot cursed.

  And through it all, I chanted.

  Please let them live.

  Please let them live.

  Don’t make them pay, too.

  But no answers came. Noise shattered everything.

  That noise was all I would remember of the crash. Like a hurricane...no, a goddamn tornado—the god of wind had revenge on his mind.

  My life was over before it even began.

  I should’ve fought harder.

  Started living sooner.

  I should never have done what I did.

  I should’ve, should’ve, should’ve.

  And now, I can’t.

  Regret crushed me that I wouldn’t grow old. Wouldn’t have kids or a wife.

  I thought I could ignore affection—that I didn’t need it. Fuck yes, I needed it. I desperately needed it. And now, I’d never experience it.

  Idiot.

  Moron.

  Loser.

  I squeezed my eyes as the whining of engines stole my sanity.

  My teeth clattered as the helicopter vibrated to a frequency guaranteed to destroy us. The earth came faster, faster, faster...we were airborne no longer.

  We were no longer moving toward the world.

  We were there.

  We slammed into treetops, bouncing like a tombstone over trunks and twigs.

  And the last thing I remembered—the final thought I had—wasn’t the answer to life’s ultimate question or peace at accepting my gruesome end.

  It was the crack and shudder of trees being annihilated, carving a path of destruction, welcoming us into its home, tearing us apart piece by piece.

  My head bashed against the window.

  My glasses shattered.

  And then...nothing.

  Chapter Nine

  ...............................................

  E S T E L L E

  ......

  All things end. All things don’t end. Love doesn’t end just because hate manifests. A tree doesn’t end just because it’s transformed into fire. Life doesn’t end just because it ceases to be what you know. Life cannot simply unexist.

  So why does an ending seem like a beginning? So why are endings so damn hard to survive?

  Taken from the notepad of E.E.

  ...

  ONCE WITHIN A song, a girl who was terrified of everything finally found a reason to be afraid of nothing.

  All my life, I’d used words to invoke emotion and deliver a scene or circumstance. I’d borrowed the power of rhythm to reveal magnitude and depth of feeling.

  But this.

  There were no words for this.

  No beat or riff could compare.

  No simple explanation of what it felt like to be torn from reality and deposited into a nightmare.

  All I knew was pain.

  Pain.

  We crashed.

  Those two words were woefully unjust.

  We turned into helicopter mincemeat.

  We ceased to exist as whole creatures and became splinters instead.

  I didn’t see.

  I didn’t understand.

  I couldn’t register anything in the speed it took to go from alive to dead.

  One moment, we were friends to the sky, and the next, an enemy to earth.

  I couldn’t explain how we’d gone from flying to being crumpled at the bottom of a palm tree.

  I couldn’t find the articulation to say how I’d survived.

  All I could do was live in tragedy.

  Every part of me hurt.

  My chest bellowed from where my seat belt cut into my chest. My head pounded from snapping back and forth. And the terror at realising I was all alone...well, that was the worst part.

  Horror crept over my injuries, hurting me right in my solar plexus.

  I was the only one remaining in the helicopter.

  To my left was empty. To my right was empty.

  The Evermores were gone.

  The pilot gone.

  Galloway...gone.

  My heart bled with fear, staining ribs that I was sure were broken.

  Where is everybody?

  My hands and feet tingled; the smell of gasoline made my vision swim.

  You have to get out.

  My fingers took control; my brain ignored confusion, making way for survival.

  Another whiff of gasoline made my hands scramble faster. Every twist and breath killed my bleeding chest and ribs.

  But I didn’t care.

  Get out. Get out!

  The harness snapped open; I fell sideways.

  I cried as I tumbled from the empty cabin, rolling from the wreckage. The helicopter had come to a halt, resting on its side. The rotor blades were gone, the
straps and pulleys of the flying mechanism were a gruesome massacre. The stab of bracken and foliage struck my palms as I crawled away from the mangled transport.

  Another gasp burned through my bruised chest. Another lungful of gasoline.

  Tears formed like a swelling tsunami, but I wouldn’t let them fall. I wouldn’t. Not yet. Not until I comprehended the situation.

  I was alive.

  I didn’t have time for tears.

  I didn’t know if the helicopter would catch fire.

  I didn’t know if an explosion was imminent.

  All I knew was I had to get as far away as possible...just in case.

  Crawling, I inched my way along the trail path of our unscheduled landing. The scar in the earth was the perfect runway for me to follow.

  My other senses returned.

  I was soaking.

  Rain sluiced from above, blackening the sky, slicking dirt into mud and leaves into slippery devils.

  I couldn’t hear properly.

  My ears rang with the final scream of the helicopter engine. The occasional boom of thunder in the distance grew louder the farther I crawled.

  I tasted copper.

  My face scrunched up as I investigated the cause of the metallic residue in my mouth. I’d bitten a chunk off the inside of my cheek upon impact.

  I was in pain.

  My injuries were localized—mainly throbbing in my chest—but they radiated out, stealing my energy far too fast.

  I have to stop.

  My crawling turned into a face plant on the sodden ground while the rain gathered strength and pummelled my back. The wet splatter against my uninflated life-jacket mocked me; wasn’t this safety device supposed to protect rather than ridicule?

  Sadness I’d never felt before crushed me deeper into the dirt, hitching a ride on my aching shoulder blades, riding me into depression.

  What would happen now?

  Where am I?

  Would someone find me?

  I couldn’t think about the future. So I did the only thing I could.

  I kept going.

  Holding my side as pain spilled from my lips, I somehow managed to stumble to my feet. My chest compounded in agony and my suspicions about broken ribs were confirmed the longer I hobbled away from the crash.

  As I moved, I took inventory.

  My fingers worked. My arms and legs, too. I wasn’t bleeding too badly apart from a cut on my forehead and a long slice down my chest from the harness.

  I was lucky.