Cristelle Comby - Alone Together

On my way back to the crash site, with a medium-sized cod for a prize, I wondered what Killian had been up to. Hopefully, he’d thought of laying out some new clothes to dry from the polka-dot case. Knowing him, I bet that was the last thing he’d be doing. He was more likely rationing out the berries or building us a sundial to be sure we were always on island time.

That thought led me to wonder where we were exactly. Though we’d been flying over Sweden, this definitely wasn’t the mainland. An island somewhere in the ocean north of Scandinavia? But the local temperatures felt way too kind for that. Did the Arctic Circle get this warm in the summer? I knew we weren’t as far north as Greenland, but…

That’s when I remembered reading how some of Norway’s islands were right on the Gulf Stream path. As a result, they enjoyed much warmer weather than was typical for such latitudes. So maybe that was where we were. I would have liked to ask Killian what his thoughts were on that, but it was too difficult a question to mime or draw.

Upon my return to the crash site, I presented the speared fish to Killian. With a smile, I twisted the stick it was on between my hands, like one would before getting a fire set up. In response, he revealed two plastic water bottles with the top cut off. Each of them were filled with an equal amount of berries. While he kept one for himself, he handed me the second. I smiled a little wider. Even halves , I thought. Why am I not surprised ?

After we got a fire going, we cooked and ate in companionable silence. By the time we finished eating, the sky was finally growing dim. And in a place where it never gets dark, it wasn’t even in the middle of the night. That was worrisome.

On top of that, the wind picked up, soon followed by the rumble of thunder in the distance. A storm was brewing on the horizon. All the sunny days had lulled me into a false sense of security. I realised now that we weren’t equipped to face bad weather. Going by the look on Killian’s face as he stood up—a concerned expression stretching his tired, stubble-covered face—he must have been thinking the same thing.

There was a storm coming. God only knows how long we had until it broke. We’d have to stay the night in the tail, along with everything we’d gathered. I motioned to Anne-Marie to help me grab all our stuff and take it inside. She nodded her understanding and got up without a word.

We hastened to get our bags and belongings as deep into the tail as possible to keep them dry. That meant pushing everything into the back of the galley. We’d worry about making sleeping arrangements later.

On our last supply run into the tail, the first rain droplets hit, thick and heavy. The ground was quick to turn to mud beneath our feet, dousing our fire in seconds. As I hauled myself into what was left of the plane, the wind picked up and pushed the rain inside. That wasn’t good. With the way the plane was inclined, along with the gaping mouth of the cabin higher than the back of the tail, water would drop in and pool at the back of the galley. We couldn’t risk that happening while we slept. We needed to find a way to stop the water from coming in.

Anne-Marie seemed to have caught on to that too, judging by the pile of blankets she had in her hands. I pointed at the blankets, pointed at the opening and shook my head at her. As heavy as the rain was coming in, they’d be drenched in no time. Anne-Marie’s smile told me that she’d thought of that too. After passing me the blankets, she then started to empty the suitcases.

With frantic motions, she pointed to the gaping entrance and the blankets in my hands. I had no idea what she meant. She tried again, a little slower this time, first pointing at the blankets and then at the top of the cabin, near the jagged opening. Ah , she wants me to fasten the blankets on the juts , I thought. Where the bloody hell else could you have hung them out , Killian ?

I did as I was told, placing the pile down by my feet and reaching for one blanket to hold up. The jagged opening was so riddled with pieces of torn metal, it made it easy to prick the thick tissue of the blankets with them. Though the blankets held on, the way the wind was blowing was sure to lift them within the hour. We needed something to hold it in place

I jumped out of the plane and into the slush of dirt and grass. The ground squished and slurped around my shoes as I looked about for small branches. Darkness had all but swallowed up the midnight sun, the woods creaking as the wind roared through them. I stumbled and lost my footing more than once while I ran my fingers through the swaying grass.

The forest looked dangerous and impregnable now, creaking and groaning in the face of the wind storm. When lightning struck, it made the trees seem colossal and grotesque with shadows both thick and primeval. I froze in my steps, unable to tear my eyes away from the sombre sight. It reminded me of younger days and another forest made of towering giants. Oak, ash, fir and, of course, Scots pine… they roared in the high wind too, extending their long arms over a frightened child. Compared to what I was seeing here, that felt like a lullaby now.

Lightning struck again, the echoing rumble tearing me out of my stupor. “Get a grip, old man,” I muttered to myself. Now was not the time to revisit that particular haunt of bad memories. I couldn’t bring myself to admit that the time would never come for that.

When I returned to the tail, I was drenched and shivering. Anne-Marie, who’d been busy fastening the suitcases against the bottom of the entrance, scarcely looked better. Her curly mop of hair was matted to the sides of her face, cold droplets dripping out of the long, brown strands. After installing one suitcase in the proper spot, she helped me inside through the gap that remained. I motioned to the branches in my hand, trying to explain what I intended to do with them. It took me three tries for her to get the message. But once she did, she got up to help me.

Soon, the same protruding metallic shards that held the blankets in place were buttressed by an assortment of branches and bits of bark. It was crude work, certainly didn’t look like much. But the blankets held on, which was all that mattered. Once that was done, Anne-Marie closed the last gap at our feet with the second suitcase. I gave it a critical eye. As barriers went, it was far from perfect and had holes here and there. But it’d keep most of the water outside.

When I turned to face Anne-Marie—or rather, the place where I thought she was—I noticed how it also kept what was left of the sunlight outside too. The interior of the tail had gone pitch-black. And I couldn’t remember what we’d done with that lighter we found in the first suitcase.

“Anne-Marie?” I asked out loud, hoping an answer from her would help me pinpoint her location.

The answering ‘hmm, hmm,’ came from further inside. It sounded like she was in the galley. Moving forward at a slow, cautious pace, I bumped into her past the cludgie . Drawing nearer, I stepped onto something that may very well have been her foot while she elbowed me in the ribs.

“Sorry,” I muttered, covering the sound of her apology.

I was about to say more when a flash of lightening burst in through the gaps in the blankets. It was soon followed by the crack of thunder exploding in the distance and the sound of tree limbs crashing to the ground.

Blood turned to ice in my veins. All that took me back to the last time I’d heard thunder exploding in the sky. I could feel myself back on board, tossed left and right as the Captain continued to navigate the treacherous and unfriendly skies. Was lightning going to hit us again? Could we get hurt if it did? I had no idea and that scared me even more.