Page 107 of When the Silence Breaks

“What just happened?” Why couldn’t she leave him to do his job?

“Nothing good.” Every line of his body was edged with tension, but his voice was smooth and controlled. How did he maintain his composure?

She couldn’t fathom it. “Did we just get struck?”

The engine sputtered, giving a rough cough.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Holt demanded, as if to coax the engine back into a steady rhythm with his words.

For the first time, his tone didn’t sound reassuring.

She drew in a long, slow breath to calm herself. Didn’t work.We’re going to die.

They skimmed close to a mountain ridge—too close, to her way of thinking.

God, please get us out of this. Please...

Unshed tears burned behind her eyes as she squeezed them shut. She couldn’t shake the terror gripping her.

“Mercy Ridge, Cessna Five-Niner-Seven Charlie Romeo,” Holt called again. “We’ve taken a lightning strike. Experiencing electrical issues and engine trouble. Request landing advisories.”

Static answered him. No hiss, no chatter—just dead air.

“Holt?” Sloane struggled to keep her voice steady.

“We’ll be fine.” He rapidly flipped switches and checked gauges. His actions belied his words.

Don’t lie to me.

The plane shuddered violently as the engine coughed again. Holt’s jaw tightened. “I need you to listen very carefully. We might need to make an emergency landing.”

“This after you just said we would be fine?” Her voice came out too high, too thin, filled with fear.

She could see the headline now.

Woman on Mission to Save Dying Sister Killed in Plane Crash.

“Where?” Sloane looked out at the shadowed world beyond the window. The last of the light was draining away, the landscape flattening into dark shapes. Lightning flashed, revealing rocky ridgelines. Tree lines. Nothing that looked remotely safe. “You can’t even see where you’re going.”

“I was using the instruments before. Now...” His gaze flicked to the dark panel, then out through the windshield. “I’ve got enough light left to pick something. Barely. And I know this terrain.”

Was he being overconfident? Trying to convince her or himself?

The engine faltered again and then went quiet. The sudden silence was more terrifying than the noise had been.

“Scratch that,” Holt said, voice tight. “We’re gliding now.”

These planes could glide for a good while, she knew, but under these circumstances, the tight fist squeezing her heart only squeezed tighter.

The nose of the plane dipped, and her stomach lurched.

“What can I do?” she asked, forcing herself to think past the fear.

“Brace when I tell you. Head down, arms crossed, feet flat.” Holt worked the yoke with deliberate precision, keeping the wings level though the wind buffeted the small plane. “And say a prayer. I heard you earlier—so I know you can do it.”

Oh, sure. Leave it up to her to pray hard enough to save them.

Through the windshield, the fading light and a jagged flash of lightning revealed a break in the trees ahead—a rough meadow, small and uneven, but open.