“Dylan?”

Cat?s voice was more than frightened now. It contained a note of terror which mirrored the one thundering Dylan?s heart.

Reaching up as she forced her body back against the seats at her back, Dylan grabbed Cat behind the neck and forced the younger woman?s head between her own knees. “Stay down!” she shouted above the groaning and shrieking of tortured metal as the plane continued to drop. With the last of her energy, she forced herself to roll on top of Cat?s huddled, shaking form, cradling her as tightly and as closely as it was possible to get.

“I?m sorry,” she whispered.

Then all hell broke loose.

Dylan awoke, groaning softly at the abysmal pounding in her head. The groan turned into a sharp gasp of pain as she tried to wrench her badly jammed leg from beneath the decimated row of seats at her back. It was her bad leg, the one that had ended her playing days, and even during the worst of times, it had never hurt as badly as it was hurting now.

Taking several deep breaths to push herself past the pain, she wiggled her body as much as she was able, and finally freed her leg. The pain of blood suddenly returning to the limb almost caused her to pass out, but she hung on to consciousness grimly, instinctively knowing she was in more danger than a mere injured leg was telling her.

Realizing she hadn?t opened her eyes yet, she did so, and discovered that whatever had rattled her brains had also either struck her blind, or she was in pitch blackness. She bet?and prayed?on the latter.

Blinking several times, she pulled her left arm out from where it had been trapped beneath her body and felt around gingerly, hoping for a clue to her current situation. The very tips of her fingers brushed against several soft, silky strands, bringing with it the unmistakable scent of Cat?s shampoo. Her fingers traveled further until they encountered a warm, sticky residue that could only be one thing.

Blood.

Ignoring the sharp, piercing pain in her knee joint, Dylan scrambled back and into the aisle, then came forward slowly, feeling her way. A strong hand clamped on Cat?s unresponsive shoulder, and she gently pulled the woman upwards until she was sitting more or less upright. “Cat?” she whispered, shaking the shoulder in her hand. “Cat? Answer me, sweetheart. Please answer me.”

Still no response.

With less than steady fingers, Dylan felt blindly along Cat?s shoulder and up her neck until she pressed lightly against the pulsepoint. Her body sagged in relief as she felt the slow, strong and steady bounding of Cat?s heart.

“Ok,” Dylan said to herself. “This is good. This is very good.” She took a deep breath, considering her options. “Alright, Cat, I?m gonna leave you here, but just for a second, alright? I need to find out what happened, and how bad off we are. I?ll be right back, I promise.”

There was no response, though she really didn?t expect one.

Feeling carefully with her feet, Dylan set them down upon the litter-strewn ground and gingerly pushed herself up to a standing position. A wave of dizziness assailed her, followed immediately by a blinding bolt of pain that traveled from her knee joint straight up to her head. “Shit!” she gasped out, reaching down and grabbing her knee tightly as she tried to ride out the pain. “Damn it!”

After what seemed like hours, the pain finally dulled down to a roar of blood in her ears, and she slowly limped along the aisle in the direction of what she hoped was the front of the plane, taking great care not to trip over the myriad of objects strewn across the floor.

Hearing a soft moan, she headed for it. Her outstretched hand was clasped by another, warm and somehow comforting.

“Dylan?”

“Kelly? That you?”

A sigh of relief. “Yeah. You okay?”

“Pretty much,” Dylan replied. “How about you?”

“Aside from a broken arm, I think I?ll live.” When Dylan immediately released her hand, the doctor laughed softly. “No, it?s the other one. Pretty useless right now.”

“How about the others?”

“Johnson?s still alive. I can hear his breathing. Dunno about his ?companion? or the pilot, though. Have any idea where we are?”

“Not a clue.”

“Is Cat alright?”

“Yeah, I think so. I felt some blood. I think she hit her head. She?s still unconscious.”

“Alright. I?ll see what I can do to help, but first, we need to get some light on the subject. Don?t suppose a plane like this has flashlights around anywhere, do you?”

“I think I remember seeing some when I walked in. Gimme a second and I?ll see what I can find.”

Dylan continued to limp forward until she came to the partition that separated the cabin proper from the cockpit. Bending at the waist, she felt around along the floor and wall, finally brushing her fingers over several large, battery-powered flashlights clamped to the partition. Grabbing one, she tugged it free and pressed a button on its base.

“Jesus Christ,” she whispered, looking at the destruction inside the small jet. The force of the crash and torn seats from their moorings and overturned tables. Several of the windows had shattered inward, littering the floor with shards of thick, tempered glass. Wires hung down from the ceiling, and the steady drip of water could be easily heard from above.

A low whistle came from Kelly. “How in the hell we managed to live through all this, I?ll never know.”

Dylan shone the light to the right, were Johnson was laying on his back, his secretary collapsed across his chest and pelvis, and pinned down by part of the roof which was laying across her back. Johnson?s face was a sickly gray and his breath came in whistling, groaning rasps.

“He doesn?t look so good.”

“I?m surprised he?s made it this long,” Norton remarked, slipping as close to the dying man as she was able.

“Hang on, let me see if I can move this crap.”

Norton nodded and knelt down by the couch, cradling her injured arm to her chest as Dylan carefully set the flashlight down and grasped the plastic panel.

Cat?s head was pounding. Now however, she wasn?t sure if it was the cold or the fact that the plane had just fallen out of the sky. She blinked, trying to get her bearings, which wasn?t easy. Feeling something on the side of her face she reached up to find blood covering her fingers when she brought them away from her face.

“Don?t panic Cat.” These words she said aloud just to make sure her mouth and ears were still functioning. “Don?t panic. You bumped your head, but you?re still alive, so let?s just concentrate on that.”

She realized she could see by the dim light filtering in somewhere ahead of her. Reaching down into her lap, she struggled with the seatbelt. It wouldn?t budge no matter how hard she pushed down on the release button. “Goddamnmotherpussbucket!” She slammed back against the seat she was trapped in, fighting back the urge to scream out her frustrations. Her eyes darted wildly around the dim interior, trying desperately to find Dylan.

Her soft exclamation was heard, and the dim light sharpened and started to bob. A moment later, Dylan limped into view, followed close behind by the team physician.

“Dylan! Thank god you?re okay!” She narrowed her eyes. “You?re limping.”

“Yeah, I know.” The flashlight shone into her eyes briefly before flicking away. “You took a pretty nasty knock to the head. How are you feeling?”

“Like somebody scrambled up my brains for breakfast. I think I?ll be okay, though, as soon as this damn chair lets me go.” She tried the release button again, then sagged back in frustration as it still refused to give. She turned plaintive eyes to the two women standing in the aisle. “Help?”

“I?ll give it my best shot,” Norton quipped, smiling as she held up her now splinted left arm. “Thank god I?m right-handed. And no ?physician heal thyself? jokes, if you please. It?s bad enough that an orthopod has a broken bone. The Wednesday golf sessions will never be the same.”

Despite the circumstances, Cat couldn?t help but laugh, which was, doubtless, what the physician had intended.

Norton eased herself in between the crushed and cramped seats, and a quick snip of her bandage scissors was enough to release Cat from her bondage. “Alright now. Let me get a look at that gash on your head. God above, Cat, you?re not having the greatest of years, are ya.”

“No kidding.”

Dylan carefully set the flashlight down on one of the few level places on the destroyed plane. Then she switched on the second one, shining the light back the way she?d come. “Take care of Cat,” she told the doc, “I?m going to check on the pilot and see if I can figure out were in the hell we are.”

As she turned, Dylan bit her lip to keep from yelping as the pain shot through her leg once more. Moving slowly and carefully, she managed to make her way to the cockpit. Pulling the door open she, took a deep breath when she saw the pilot and what was left of the cockpit. He?d brought them down hard, but they were alive. He?d given his life to guarantee that.

The nose of the plane had impacted with a huge tree which had all but obliterated the cockpit and the man who manned the helm. The stench of blood and death was heavy in the confined space, and Dylan felt her guts roil. Knowing it was useless, but needing to try anyway, Dylan slipped her fingers along what remained of the man?s neck, searching in vain for a pulse.

Only the cold stillness of death greeted her flesh, and she removed her hand quickly, wiping the thick, clotting blood on her slacks.

She set her now clean hand on his ruined shoulder, squeezing it. “I?m sorry, my friend. Thank you. For saving our lives. You died doing what you loved, and I know that?s enough. Godspeed.”