Page 16 of Starlit Skies


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“What?” She followed his gaze down to see a piece of metal protruding out of his thigh.

“Oh, shit.” Her head began to spin. She wasn’t good with gory stuff.

“That’s not good,” Nash said, glaring at the offending object.

“What should we do?” she asked faintly. Her mother had made sure all of them working at Stormcloud were efficient when it came to first aid. It was a must when you were dealing with guests in an isolated landscape. Help was often a long way away. But all that first aid training completely deserted her at the sight of that object sticking out of Nash’s thigh muscle.

Nash sat back down and tore the fabric of his pants away from the wound, examining it closely. She had to grit her teeth and look away before she threw up.

“It’s not bleeding too bad; it doesn’t look like it’s hit an artery.” His voice was clinical, as if he were scrutinizing a picture in a book, rather than his own flesh and blood.

Then she remembered he was a police officer. Of course, he’d know what to do.

It seemed that Nash had come out of the crash worse off than she had. He’d been using himself as a human shield, and it’d worked. But now he was injured.

“I’m going to pull it out,” he said suddenly.

“Wait.” She held up a hand. “Shouldn’t you just leave it?” She couldn’t believe he would do such a thing. “People will be here to rescue us, soon.” Someone back at Cairns airport must have heard Paul’s Mayday call. Surely, they’d be scrambling to get search and rescue in the air.

Nash shot her an unreadable glance, and began to shake his head. Then, as if someone had heard her thoughts, the sound of a helicopter hovering overhead made them look up.

Was that someone come to rescue them already? That was damn quick.

“See, I told you,” she said, patting his knee. “You wait here. I’ll go outside and see if I can attract their attention.”

“No.” Nash’s harsh command as well as his hand on her arm stopped her from rising from the seat. The sound of the chopper got louder, and the branches above them began to rattle in the downdraft from the rotor. It was close. Possibly hovering dead overhead.

“What? Why not? I’m quite capable of waving down a helicopter,” she snapped.

“I don’t think it’s a rescue chopper.” He almost had to yell over the sound of the aircraft above them.

Then it dawned on her. This might be the men who’d shot them out of the sky. Come to see if anyone had survived; come to finish the job.

“Stay really still. Don’t move a muscle,” he commended.

She could see flashes of silver through the holes in the fuselage above, as the chopper circled them. How much was visible from the air? From down here, it felt like they were buried beneath the canopy. The chopper had careened a fair way into the forest before it finally came to a halt. Leaves dangled in through the holes, branches, and twigs from broken vegetation, making it hard to see what was going on above.

The chopper hovered for what felt like hours over the top of the crash site, while she and Nash cowered inside, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe. Skylar covered her face to stop the debris flying around getting in her eyes. What if they landed? What if they decided to come looking for them, to make sure the job was really done? They wouldn’t stand a chance against the man and his rifle. They’d be sitting ducks. Skylar came up with a million and one different scenarios, escape routes. Then she remembered that Nash had a piece of metal sticking out of his leg.

But, unbelievably, the sound of the chopper finally receded, leaving a deathly silence in its wake. The leaves and dust settled, and the metal of the wrecked aircraft stopped shaking around them.

“Why did they leave?” Skylar asked when they could finally hear to talk.

“I don’t know.” Nash shrugged. “Maybe, they were just looking for signs of life. Maybe they decided no one could have survived this. It might look even worse from above.”

“Or maybe, they’ll be back with reinforcements,” Skylar added darkly.

He lifted his head to stare at her, not hiding his unease. Oh, shit, that might in fact be a distinct possibility. His face was pale as he tried, but failed, to hide the grimace of pain.

“We should get moving, then.” She certainly didn’t want to be a sitting duck if they did come back. But a more likely scenario was that they also needed to be ready for when search and rescue found them. They needed to get back to the clearing so they could signal for help.

“I’m going to check on Paul, first.” Nash half-stood, and then winced, grabbing for a loose wire hanging from the ceiling to steady himself.

She glared at him. He still had a piece of metal poking out of his leg. He was in no fit state to climb through the twisted wreck.

“You stay here. I’ll do it.” She pushed him back down onto the seat.

He began to argue with her. “I’m the cop. I have a duty to see that you and Paul are kept safe. It’s my jo—”

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