Becky Avella - Crash Landing

Sean slowly lifted his T-shirt, revealing a tanned, muscular stomach but no gun. He repeated the process with his pant legs, lifting each side.

“Take off your boots.”

Sean obeyed, pulling off his boots and shaking them out. “I’m clean.”

“Turn out your pockets.” Sean threw down a cell phone and a knife Deanna hadn’t known he had.

The pilot kicked the knife and phone away. “Not armed, eh?”

Sean shrugged. He put his boots back on and stood back up tall, never breaking eye contact. Deanna’s cheeks still burned. She’d had a gun, but she’d lost their ticket out of here by being too slow to act. She met Sean’s eyes and mouthed the words I’m sorry.

The pilot pushed Deanna forward with the shotgun. “Walk to my plane.”

When they arrived at the red Piper Arrow, he raised the shotgun to the back of her head. Deanna could feel the cold metal touching her scalp through her hair. She closed her eyes and refused to imagine the gory details of what would happen to her if that gun fired now.

“Climb into the cockpit and grab the duct tape out of the glove compartment,” he directed Sean. The gun pushed harder against Deanna’s head, making her stagger forward a bit. “There’s two rolls. And don’t forget where I’ve got this gun pointed.”

Sean nodded and climbed in, quickly locating the tape. When he hopped back to the ground, the pilot shoved Deanna hard toward the shed. “Get up against the wall.”

“Hey!” Sean yelled, stepping toward Deanna. “Not so rough!”

“Yeah, about that. Sorry about this, dude,” he said and then swung the shotgun like a baseball bat, connecting with the side of Sean’s head. The thwack of solid wood against Sean’s skull made Deanna’s knees buckle.

“Sean!” she screamed. Reaching out, she caught his slumping body just in time. His weight knocked her to her knees, but she slowed his fall before he hit the ground.

The pilot’s hands shoved her from behind, and Sean rolled from her arms.

“On your stomach,” he ordered Deanna. “And stay there or you’re getting the same as he got.”

* * *

Sean couldn’t measure how much time passed. It could have been forever or maybe it was only seconds. Blackness condensed like a tunnel into a single point of light. He blinked his eyes, so confused. So very confused.

A woman lay on her stomach in front of him. He knew her, didn’t he? Was he supposed to help her?

He tried to stand but gravity pulled at him like a magnet. He wobbled on his knees, trying not to fall.

“Stay down.”

Rough hands shoved him back to the ground. A man was yelling at the girl.

Deanna. That was her name. Sean really should try to fight back. Make that guy stop yelling at her. He would. Later. After he got his head right.

No, now. Something was wrong. Deanna needed him.

Sean struggled to stand again but his body wouldn’t obey. He had no more strength than a rag doll. The hands were on him again, pulling him into a seated position, pushing him against something. A dull pain throbbed against Sean’s temple. He closed his eyes. He just wanted to focus. If he could only process what was happening. That’s all he wanted. To stop being so confused.

Eventually, the details began to fall into place. He remembered he was with Deanna Jackson, that they had been flying. He remembered landing here and the swinging gun that had caught him by surprise. The fog was clearing from his brain but it was too late.

The pilot had tied him up, and Sean couldn’t move.

THREE

The world swam in such a blur Sean quickly closed his eyes again. He tried to reach his hands up to hold his head, but his wrists were handcuffed and his arms pinned to his sides with tight duct tape. He moaned and fell sideways so he could lean against the shed wall.

Something squirmed behind him. Sean shot back up fast, releasing another wave of intense vertigo. Deanna was behind him. They were bound back-to-back with the tape securely strapping them together across their torsos. He glanced down. His legs were bound, too, just above the ankles.

“Sean? Are you awake?” Deanna sounded far away, her voice full of fear.

He started to nod but decided it was best to keep his head still. “Yeah. What happened?”

“All I had to do was reach for my gun. I had it right there but I panicked.” Her voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

His chest tightened. Deanna wasn’t the type to cry. Not being able to reach her to comfort her hurt worse than his head. “This is nothing, Dee. You’ve seen me get my bell rung worse than this riding bulls. This isn’t any different than those times. I’m already feeling better.”

“But he used your head like a baseball.”

The throbbing inside his skull agreed with her. “Maybe. But I’ll take a knock in the head over a gunshot wound any day. He didn’t like being outnumbered, but he must’ve bought your story or he would have just shot me. That was quick thinking.”

Deanna felt so tiny leaning against his back. She was a petite woman, but it had never occurred to him to think of her as small. She’d always been the golden girl, larger than life in his eyes, and far beyond his reach. In high school, she’d been like a sun with a mass of people constantly orbiting around her.

This small, sad voice wasn’t hers. He wanted to squeeze her hand, but he couldn’t reach it.

Sean swallowed. He needed to ask her something, but it was hard to spit out the words. Probably because he was afraid of the answer. They came out just above a whisper. “Deanna, did that guy hurt you?”

He steeled himself.

“No. I’m okay. I think he’s waiting for others to show up to tell him whether or not we are who we say we are before he does anything to us.”

Sean released the breath he’d held. Thank God. “See, you bought us time. That’s good. Where’d he go?”

“He got bored, so he’s rummaging through my plane.”

Sean squinted toward the Cessna. “He’ll be back soon.”

“What do you think he’s doing up here, anyway? And who’s that Pritchard guy he mentioned?”

“I don’t know,” Sean admitted. “I’d guess he’s meeting someone and whoever it is, they won’t be happy to see us. This might be our only chance to get away.”

“I agree, but how?” Deanna asked.

Sean flexed his chest. The tape didn’t give at all. “We’ve got to get our hands free first. I’m going to lean forward and try to chew the tape loose around my wrists,” he said. “Can you roll onto my back while I roll forward?”

They maneuvered in sync, Sean bending in half at the waist and Deanna arching backward onto the heels of her boots. Barely reaching his wrists, Sean bit at the gray tape but it was bound several times around and was too thick to chew through. He’d break through eventually, but it would take too long. He sat up slowly, easing Deanna back down behind him.

“I need something to saw with,” he said.

And to stop being so dizzy. That would help.

He reached for a stick, but it was so far out of reach he almost knocked them both onto their sides trying to stretch to it. This wasn’t working. He needed a plan, but it was still hard to think straight. Man, his head hurt.

Sean’s back was warm where Deanna leaned against him. The pilot might not have hurt her yet, but there was no denying that hungry look Sean had seen in his eyes. He would hurt her if he got a chance. Sean needed to get her to safety, but he couldn’t move.

Defeated by a city boy and a roll of duct tape. It was humiliating.

He pulled hard against the tape again, but it didn’t loosen any more than it had the last time. He closed his eyes. God, I don’t know what to do. Show me how to get her out of here.