Andrew Klavan - If We Survive

I looked ahead through the windshield and saw the mountains to the west, the clouds breaking apart above them to reveal the dark-blue sky and the lowering sun.

The real shooting started now. The rebels from the troop carrier had come around the curve in the tree line. They had a bead on our plane as it rolled away from them. They were firing at us—their rattling blasts blending together into one solid death-dealing roar.

I didn’t look back at them. There was no point. They would bring us down or we would outrun them, and there was nothing I could do to change the outcome. I sat in the plane facing forward, breathing hard from the chase but oddly unafraid, oddly calm about whatever was going to happen next.

Don’t worry about anything. Pray about everything .

I remembered what Meredith’s sister, Anne, had taught her:

Put your hands together and point your soul toward the light of God .

As the Cessna rolled faster, as the noise of gunfire rose above the noise of the plane, I clasped my hands together in my lap and faced the windshield.

I felt the plane take to the sky. I felt it wobble as if it might yet tumble back to earth—and then I felt it right itself and lift up faster and faster, higher and higher. I heard Nicki give a shout of celebration. And I heard Palmer laughing. I saw the sky surround us and I saw nothing before us but the mountains and the sun.

We headed for that light—with Costa Verdes, that country of tragedies, falling away below us.

We flew for the west.

America.

Home.

Freedom.

I never got to say good-bye to Palmer Dunn—or Meredith Ward either. I tried to, but it just didn’t work out that way. After we flew across the mountains, Palmer picked up a signal on the emergency band of the Cessna’s radio. Voices guided us north to an airfield in Belize. We were met there by a small crowd of celebrating people. Father Miguel had told them we were coming. They all spoke English. They all slapped us on our backs as we stepped out of the plane. They had an ambulance already waiting. They helped us put Jim on a stretcher and they rushed all of us off to a nearby hospital, sirens blaring.

The next few days went by in a blur. We were taken first to one hospital, then flown to another in the capital city of Belmopan. At the second hospital, we were met by a woman named Mrs. Blake who was from the American embassy. Jim had to stay in the hospital another day while they worked on his legs, but the rest of us just needed some bandages here and there. Even Palmer: a bullet had torn a gash in his arm, but it hadn’t stuck. He was fine. So Mrs. Blake had us moved to a hotel—an amazing luxury hotel with huge rooms and soft beds and hot showers and English-language television. It wasn’t heaven, but for now, it was close enough.

I talked to my parents on the phone. My mother cried. My father laughed. They sounded good, I thought. I let myself hope that maybe they had stopped arguing with each other, but I wasn’t sure and I didn’t really know how to ask. I figured I would just have to wait and see for myself.

Mrs. Blake brought us new clothes. When we were all cleaned up and rested, she brought some reporters to the hotel. Some were local, some were from back home. We had lunch with the reporters in the hotel restaurant and they asked us questions about our escape and took video. Later I heard the interviews were on television and then on YouTube. I never watched them, but I hear they’re still there.

Finally, Mrs. Blake brought us new passports and arranged our plane tickets home. By the fourth day, even Jim was ready to travel, though he was hobbling around on crutches.

We flew to Belize City and then to Dallas, Texas. From there, Jim and Nicki and I would fly home to California. Meredith was going back to Denver. Palmer said he was going to see a friend in Virginia, to ask about finding a new job. Something in law enforcement, he said, but he wasn’t very specific.

I meant to say good-bye to Palmer and Meredith there at the airport. But as we were all making our way from the airport security checkpoint to our gates, I saw a sign for a chapel. I told the others I would catch up with them, and I went in.

The chapel was just a little room with chairs pointing at a podium. I guess it was supposed to look vaguely like a church, but only vaguely. There was no one there but me.

I sat in one of the chairs. I was planning to pray. I wanted to say thanks for our survival. I wanted to remember Pastor Ron, and ask God to take care of him and to bring peace to his family.

And I did start praying, but after a while, I just found myself sitting there, staring down at my sneakers, kind of lost in thought. I was a little nervous about going home, I realized. I was nervous about seeing my parents, about finding out if they had solved their problems and ended their arguments, or if their marriage was going to break apart and take my life with it.

I was nervous—but I realized I wasn’t scared, not like I’d been scared before. I had gone to Costa Verdes to get away from them, to get away from the suspense of waiting to find out what would happen. But now I was back and I was not afraid.

Which was weird, you know. Because I still didn’t know what was going to happen. Not to my parents, not to me, not to my life or to the world. I didn’t know the future, in other words. No one does. I definitely hoped there’d be some good news up ahead. But I knew there’d be some bad news sometimes too. And I won’t say I was fearless about that like Meredith was—not yet—but I thought I understood now how a person might get to be fearless over time, if he set his spirit on the right path.

After a while in the chapel, I sort of came back to myself and realized I’d been sitting there longer than I’d meant to. I jumped up and headed back out to the airport concourse. I checked the departure signs and saw that my plane to Los Angeles was already beginning to board.

I didn’t have much time before the plane took off, but I did want to say good-bye to Meredith and Palmer. I had learned a lot from both of them and they had both saved my life.

The gate for Meredith’s flight wasn’t far away. I ran down the concourse to reach it, weaving through the crowd. But just as I got to the right place, I pulled up short.

Meredith’s flight to Denver was boarding now too. The line of passengers was moving through the door to the Jetway. But Meredith had not left the airport yet. She was still there, standing a little off to one side in front of the window facing the airfield. She was standing there against the backdrop of the runways, a 707 jet taking off into the sky behind her.

She was there with Palmer. He had her in his arms. They were lost together in a long, deep kiss.

So—yeah—what do you think?—I walked away. I walked off quickly to catch my plane home without saying good-bye to either of them. And I’ll admit it: my heart felt a little heavy inside me. Because, you know, Meredith was with Palmer and would never be with me. And yes, yes, yes, I know: it was supposed to be that way. I was only sixteen, after all. I wasn’t ready for anything that serious in my life. And Meredith and Palmer—well, they were made for each other. Anyone could see that.

But my heart felt a little heavy inside me all the same.

As I walked off to catch my plane, I tried to tease myself out of my mood. I told myself: Hey, to win a woman like Meredith, you have to be a hero—like Palmer. And you’re no hero, that’s for sure. You’re just an ordinary kid .

I reached my gate. There was Nicki standing next to Jim on his crutches. She was waving to me urgently, telling me to hurry.

As I jogged toward them, I sort of answered myself. I thought, Well, okay, I’m no hero now. But I’m still young. I might get to be a hero in time .