Dead Heat (4 page)

“Control?” said Bri. “We’ve an engine fire . . . We’re heading for a clearing just east of Brahmin Point.”

The plane’s nose continued to drop.

Georgia thought about death. She hoped she would die quickly. Then she thought, What will it feel like to have my head and
arms ripped off? She pictured the plane smashing through the trees and metal crashing around her.
Will I feel anything? Will I die straight away?

She heard Lee alerting the emergency services. Then he turned in his seat and told her and Suzie a rescue chopper was in the
air and on its way.

Georgia found she couldn’t speak. Her tongue was stiff, her mouth as dry as tissue paper. She looked at her hand clasping
Suzie’s. Suzie’s skin was pale, almost paper-white; her own was lightly tanned. She saw Suzie was staring at them too, strangers
gripping each other in desperate fear.

“We’ll get through this okay,” Lee said firmly. “Remember, stay down, and only get out when we’ve come to a complete stop.”

Suzie suddenly gave Georgia’s hand a hard shake, forcing her to look at her. Her expression revealed her terror. Suzie worked
her mouth, then leaned across and said unsteadily, “If I don’t make it . . .” She touched the fanny pack settled on her hips.
“Please, give this to my brother. It is very important. Please.”

Georgia managed a nod.

“Nobody else,” Suzie added, eyes pleading before they flickered to Lee, then back. “Please. Promise me.”

Georgia nodded again and glanced at her own handbag on the floor. She couldn’t think who she could ask Suzie to give it to
if she didn’t make it herself.

She became aware that the plane had leveled out a little, and that its sickening angle to the right had lessened. Or perhaps
it was just wishful thinking. She didn’t know. She felt as though her brain was shutting down. Nothing seemed real. Suzie
was crying silently, tears streaming down her face.

The plane pitched and lurched violently. She didn’t dare look outside. She was breathing fast, smoke in her mouth.

She could hear Bri talking to Control. Talking to Lee. Both men’s voices calm. She could feel the plane vibrating, hear the
sound of wind on the wings and fuselage, air whistling through a tiny crack in the window.

She had no concept of time, whether seconds were passing, or minutes. She tried to think of her mother, but her mind was blank.
She turned her thoughts to Tom, to no better effect. All she could think, as the plane plunged downward, was, Please God,
don’t let me die. Please, don’t let me die.

“Control,” said Bri. “Okay, we’ve passed Rattlesnake Rock. Coming over Timbarra River.”

Brief silence.

“Bri? Throttle?”

“Closed.”

“Fuel?”

“Off.”

“Fuel pump.”

“Off.”

“Magnetos.”

“Off.”

“Door . . . unlocked. Battery master, alternator?”

“Off.”

She risked a quick glance outside, seeing stands of kauri pines separated by sharp outcrops of rock, feeling the plane trembling,
then hearing Lee’s yell: “Brace position!”

Petrified, Georgia’s gaze was fixed on the solid mass of dense foliage approaching fast.

“Stay down!” shouted Lee.

She ducked her head to her knees and put her arms over her head, hearing Bri’s sudden pleading; “Help me make it, help me,
help me.”

“Stay down! Brace! Brace! This is going to be rough!”

She squeezed her eyes shut.

G
eorgia heard metal tearing, a horrific sound, like tons of rocks crashing onto an industrial-strength aluminum roof, a noise
louder than she’d ever heard before. Branches, ferns, dirt clods, and rocks crashed against the windscreen. She felt the ground
stripping the plane’s underbelly.
My feet might be torn off.
She hurriedly raised her legs.

The plane tumbled and then rolled onto its left side. Objects flew at her: headsets, rocks and sticks, fragments of metal
she couldn’t identify.

As the left wing gouged branches and ferns, from the front of the plane came a man’s scream. Gradually the plane slowed its
endless skid against the rocks and earth and came to rest in front of a giant strangler fig tree. Dust and debris settled
over the aircraft.

Georgia lay there, blinking slowly and feeling as though she had just awoken. She must have briefly lost consciousness. Her
ears were buzzing. She couldn’t hear a thing. Nothing at all. The frogs and insects and birds had been shocked into silence.

She became aware she was breathing. In. Out. Slowly and calmly, she was breathing. Georgia continued to breathe for what felt
like hours. A tiny trickle of fear seeped into her brain, which deepened as her senses awakened. She could smell smoke, the
cloying scent of engine oil. Her brain kick-started as if somebody had turned an ignition key.

I think I’m alive.

She raised her head, and a shock of intense pain rocketed from the fingers in her left hand and up her arm into her shoulder.
She looked at her hand in amazement. Blood was pouring from a huge gash across her palm and dripping from her fingers. She
wanted to wrap something around her hand, a bandage to stem the bleeding. She looked up and saw the shattered shell of the
plane, wires and cables poking out at odd angles, metal mangled and torn. She could see Bri’s form slumped in front. Suzie
was nowhere to be seen. Nor Lee.

Gray-black smoke swirled all around. Where the starboard wing had been was now a gaping hole, and through it she could see
feathery grasses and a broken ribbonwood plant. The daylight outside seemed incongruous and unreal. Somehow she’d expected
it to be black.

She was coughing against the bitter stench of burning plastic and fumbled at her seat belt, snapped it free, and pushed herself
upright, but something held her back. Her hair. Her plait was caught. She tried to twist around, to tug it clear, but it held
her fast.

The smell of burning intensified and a cloud of black smoke belched through the fuselage. The next instant there was a dull
whump,
like a gas fire being lit, but louder. A burst of flame shot from the engine cowling.
Whump.

A chunk of fractured metal crashed past and a great tongue of flame licked through the shattered windscreen. She struggled
furiously to release herself, the awful realization that she was about to be burned to death filling her mind.

With all her strength she yanked against the fuselage pinning her hair. Suddenly Lee appeared, and she was yelling, “Help
me! Help me!” but he didn’t seem to hear. The tongue of flame had turned into a crackling, roaring column that drowned out
her voice. He ducked down to his right and then she saw that he was holding a black, wickedly curved knife. He began yanking
her hair, pulling and tugging, and all at once, miraculously, she was free.

“Go, go
go
!” he yelled.

He had her by the scruff of her T-shirt, her right elbow, and was hauling her with him toward the fire. Flames licked at her
skin as she scrambled after him, and suddenly they were outside. She nearly wept in relief. Lee dragged her clear of the flames.
He dropped his hands from her and she fell to her knees. She saw he was turning, spinning back for the plane. “I’ll get Bri!”
he shouted over his shoulder. He had a cut above his left eye and his left ear was pouring blood. “You go to Suzie!”

Shaking, disoriented, Georgia looked around. Over piles of shattered metal she saw they were in a long, granite-topped clearing
surrounded by tall trees covered in vines and lichens. She looked back to the airplane. The cockpit was belching fire. Grasses
and dead leaves were burning around the plane. Distantly she took in the way the plane rested on its belly, and realized the
undercarriage had been torn away. A deep groove was behind the plane, where it had plowed through the rainforest floor. There
were scratches in the rocks, and a dead crow lying beside part of a propeller blade. Unable to comprehend what had happened,
she knelt in the chaos, panic mixed with incredulity.

She heard a woman’s plea. It came from the treeline to her right. Suzie’s voice shook her to her feet and she made her way
across the forest floor to where Suzie lay on her back.

Trembling and bleeding, Georgia folded to her knees. “Hi.” Her voice was scratchy from smoke.

Suzie turned her head to look at Georgia. Her face was streaked with blood and tears. “Where’s Lee?” she whispered.

“He’s getting Bri,” she said. “But until he comes, I’ll look after you.”

Using her good hand, she gently brushed the woman’s hair off her face. Suzie had a deep gash above her right eye, which was
bleeding heavily, but what worried Georgia was the quantity of blood soaking her shirt. Never having done a first aid course,
she was unsure what to do and settled for holding Suzie’s hand. It was cold. Not a good sign. She looked around for something
to cover her, but all she could see were ferns and palms, shredded, snapped, and crushed, and a mangled mass of metal spilling
black into the sky.

Whump.

A wall of flame was now roaring through the shattered wreckage of the Piper. The flames were so fierce that she could feel
the heat where she knelt. She could see Lee hauling Bri away from the plane, staggering slightly . . .

To her horror, she realized Bri was on fire. Engulfed in flames from the waist down, he was tearing at his clothes. Lee pushed
Bri to the ground, yelling. He picked up handfuls of wet mud and slapped them against Bri’s burning trousers.

Georgia rushed for them.

“Roll to the ground!” Lee yelled. “Roll! Roll!”

Georgia made to slap at the flames but Lee pushed her aside, flinging himself across Bri and rolling with him, smothering
the flames with his body and the damp mulch of the forest floor. Georgia thought, He’s fine, the fire’s out, Bri will be fine.
Then she took in his feet. His boots had melted into his skin. The backs of his legs were a strange white color, like the
dead flesh of a swordfish steak.

For a second she thought he couldn’t have survived, but then he croaked, “Am I dead yet?”

“Just a little sunburned,” Lee said.

“Sunburned?” Bri said. “You mean I forgot the factor five thousand?”

Georgia didn’t know then that a victim may suffer severe burns yet be able to talk and walk, albeit only for a short while,
because when the nerve endings were burned, the pain died. She thought that if Bri was coherent, he’d be okay, even if his
legs were a mess.

Lee rose to his knees. His shirt was charred and his hands bleeding. “I’ll take care of Bri,” he said. He didn’t look at her.
“You go to Suzie. Talk to her.”

She walked unsteadily back to Suzie and knelt at her side. The woman gave a shuddering cough, then another. Blood dribbled
from the corners of her mouth. Fear crawling through her, Georgia called out to Lee, and he held a hand over his shoulder
with two fingers extended, which she assumed meant: Wait two minutes.

“I’m cold, Georgia,” Suzie murmured. “Really cold.”

“It’s the shock. It makes you feel cold. I’m not exactly warm myself. I’m still shaking.”

“I think I’m dying.”

George looked into Suzie’s eyes. They were deeply frightened.

“I don’t want to die. Not yet.”

“You’re not dying,” said Georgia firmly, forcing down her own fright and concentrating on making her voice steady. “You’re
in shock, that’s all. Before you know it, helicopters and paramedics will be here and flying you out. You are
not dying
.”

Suzie began to shiver. “I’m sorry. Oh, Dutch. Please. I’m so
cold.
”

Georgia yelled to Lee. This time he looked around, and she could see the regret on his face. He shook his head, mouthing,
“Sorry.”

Her skin tightened. Oh my God. He knows Suzie is dying. That’s why he asked me to talk to her. So she wouldn’t be alone. Georgia
looked into the elfin face and felt her throat close up. She was so pretty, so
young.

“Georgia,” Suzie whispered. “Help me.”

“Sure, anything I can—”

“My . . . bag? Promise?”

“To give it to your brother, should anything—”

“Now.” Her voice was choked. “Take. Now.”

“No, Suzie, I’ll do it later.”

With a monumental effort, Suzie made to lift herself up and free the fanny pack from her hips, but she fell back with a long,
agonized groan and closed her eyes. Horrified, Georgia saw that the curd of blood on her shirt had thickened and turned the
color of tar.

When Suzie struggled to raise herself again, Georgia relented quickly. “Okay, okay. I’ll get it. Don’t move, I’ll get it now.”

Fingers trembling, she snapped open the plastic buckle and, as gently as she could, eased the strap free. The pack’s stiff
new leather was sticky with blood, but Georgia turned her mind from that as she lengthened the strap before clipping it around
her own waist.

“I’m wearing it, okay? I’ll give it back to you soon as you’re in the hospital. I swear I’ll look after it.”

Suzie gave another groan, a sound of agony so deep that Georgia started sweating and longed for her to lose consciousness.

“Cold,” Suzie moaned. “Dutch, I’m cold.”

Swiveling the fanny pack to her right hip, Georgia lay beside Suzie on the wet mire of decaying leaves and carefully nestled
against her, hoping her meager body warmth might help. She could feel Suzie’s blood seeping into her own clothes, warm and
viscous, and through the pervasive smell of smoke she detected the faint perfume of fresh, bright jasmine on her skin.

“Wish I was warmer,” Georgia murmured. “Or had a hot water bottle for you.”

Suzie gave a soft hiccup, then her breathing became more labored. Blood bubbled through her nostrils. Georgia felt her heart
constrict. Please, no, she prayed. Not this pretty young woman, please God, no.

“Dutch.” It was a gasp more than a word.

“Hang in there, Suzie . . .”

Suzie trembled in her arms. “Want. Dutch.”

“He’s coming. Dutch is coming right now. You’ll be fine, Suzie, I promise . . .”

The slender body gave a shudder.