Unknown - driven

A soft chuckle brought Dylan?s sharp gaze over to the snickering Kelly Norton, who gave her a cheesy grin and a waggling eyebrow before she turned away, blatantly ignoring the look of death shot her way.

Sighing, Dylan rested her head back against the seatback and stared straight ahead as the small jet gathered speed and took off into the vast evening sky.

A dream, already fading, woke Cat from her sleep, gasping. Still tired eyes darted toward the window, where she was treated to a violent display of lightening sparking through the roiling clouds enveloping their tiny plane.

She gave a louder gasp when the plane seemed to plummet a heart-stopping length before finally finding stable air beneath it again and leveling out. Her knuckles white from the grip on the arms of her seat, Cat looked to her left. Both Dylan and the doctor were gone, leaving Cat alone in this part of the plane.

She uttered a breathless cry as a brilliant bolt of lightning slashed almost against the window and the plane, once again, plummeted.

Hearing the cry, Dylan quickly ducked back into the passenger area and strode over to Cat, holding the seatbacks in order to keep herself from stumbling about as the plane rocked wildly back and forth. “What is it, Cat? What?s wrong?”

“What?s?.” Cat swallowed back the churning in her stomach. “?going on?”

Dylan shook her head. “We?ve got a problem. We?re almost over Denver and we?re gonna have to make an emergency landing.”

“Because of the storm?”

“No. Norton thinks Horace is having a heart attack.”

“Oh god. Is there anything I can do?” Cat sat up and struggled with the belt at her lap.

Dylan held up a hand. “No, keep it on. We?re going to land soon.” The plane dipped again, then tilted almost on its side, causing Dylan to nearly rip the seatback from its moorings as she kept herself from being thrown down the aisle. “I hope.”

“Dylan?”

Dylan looked down into a pair of brilliant green eyes; eyes which held a strong determination, and the faintest spark of fear. The coach could relate. She wasn?t ready to belt out “Ode to Joy” herself.

They both jumped, startled, as a lightning strike hit the plane, causing it to duck and shutter in a series of gut-wrenching dips and rises, as if it had suddenly landed in an amusement park and was substituting for the roller coaster. The lights dimmed, then shut down altogether, before coming back on in an eerie, flickering glow.

After a moment of relative calm, the plane wheeled crazily, uprooting Dylan and throwing her across Cat?s lap. She smacked her head hard against the bulkhead and pulled against the G forces pinning her down, seeing stars. Her guts sank, and stayed there.

“Dylan?”

Cat?s voice was more than frightened now. It contained a note of terror which mirrored the one thundering Dylan?s heart.

Reaching up as she forced her body back against the seats at her back, Dylan grabbed Cat behind the neck and forced the younger woman?s head between her own knees. “Stay down!” she shouted above the groaning and shrieking of tortured metal as the plane continued to drop. With the last of her energy, she forced herself to roll on top of Cat?s huddled, shaking form, cradling her as tightly and as closely as it was possible to get.

“I?m sorry,” she whispered.

Then all hell broke loose.

Dylan awoke, groaning softly at the abysmal pounding in her head. The groan turned into a sharp gasp of pain as she tried to wrench her badly jammed leg from beneath the decimated row of seats at her back. It was her bad leg, the one that had ended her playing days, and even during the worst of times, it had never hurt as badly as it was hurting now.

Taking several deep breaths to push herself past the pain, she wiggled her body as much as she was able, and finally freed her leg. The pain of blood suddenly returning to the limb almost caused her to pass out, but she hung on to consciousness grimly, instinctively knowing she was in more danger than a mere injured leg was telling her.

Realizing she hadn?t opened her eyes yet, she did so, and discovered that whatever had rattled her brains had also either struck her blind, or she was in pitch blackness. She bet?and prayed?on the latter.

Blinking several times, she pulled her left arm out from where it had been trapped beneath her body and felt around gingerly, hoping for a clue to her current situation. The very tips of her fingers brushed against several soft, silky strands, bringing with it the unmistakable scent of Cat?s shampoo. Her fingers traveled further until they encountered a warm, sticky residue that could only be one thing.

Blood.

Ignoring the sharp, piercing pain in her knee joint, Dylan scrambled back and into the aisle, then came forward slowly, feeling her way. A strong hand clamped on Cat?s unresponsive shoulder, and she gently pulled the woman upwards until she was sitting more or less upright. “Cat?” she whispered, shaking the shoulder in her hand. “Cat? Answer me, sweetheart. Please answer me.”

Still no response.

With less than steady fingers, Dylan felt blindly along Cat?s shoulder and up her neck until she pressed lightly against the pulsepoint. Her body sagged in relief as she felt the slow, strong and steady bounding of Cat?s heart.

“Ok,” Dylan said to herself. “This is good. This is very good.” She took a deep breath, considering her options. “Alright, Cat, I?m gonna leave you here, but just for a second, alright? I need to find out what happened, and how bad off we are. I?ll be right back, I promise.”

There was no response, though she really didn?t expect one.

Feeling carefully with her feet, Dylan set them down upon the litter-strewn ground and gingerly pushed herself up to a standing position. A wave of dizziness assailed her, followed immediately by a blinding bolt of pain that traveled from her knee joint straight up to her head. “Shit!” she gasped out, reaching down and grabbing her knee tightly as she tried to ride out the pain. “Damn it!”

After what seemed like hours, the pain finally dulled down to a roar of blood in her ears, and she slowly limped along the aisle in the direction of what she hoped was the front of the plane, taking great care not to trip over the myriad of objects strewn across the floor.

Hearing a soft moan, she headed for it. Her outstretched hand was clasped by another, warm and somehow comforting.

“Dylan?”

“Kelly? That you?”

A sigh of relief. “Yeah. You okay?”

“Pretty much,” Dylan replied. “How about you?”

“Aside from a broken arm, I think I?ll live.” When Dylan immediately released her hand, the doctor laughed softly. “No, it?s the other one. Pretty useless right now.”

“How about the others?”

“Johnson?s still alive. I can hear his breathing. Dunno about his ?companion? or the pilot, though. Have any idea where we are?”

“Not a clue.”

“Is Cat alright?”

“Yeah, I think so. I felt some blood. I think she hit her head. She?s still unconscious.”

“Alright. I?ll see what I can do to help, but first, we need to get some light on the subject. Don?t suppose a plane like this has flashlights around anywhere, do you?”

“I think I remember seeing some when I walked in. Gimme a second and I?ll see what I can find.”

Dylan continued to limp forward until she came to the partition that separated the cabin proper from the cockpit. Bending at the waist, she felt around along the floor and wall, finally brushing her fingers over several large, battery-powered flashlights clamped to the partition. Grabbing one, she tugged it free and pressed a button on its base.

“Jesus Christ,” she whispered, looking at the destruction inside the small jet. The force of the crash and torn seats from their moorings and overturned tables. Several of the windows had shattered inward, littering the floor with shards of thick, tempered glass. Wires hung down from the ceiling, and the steady drip of water could be easily heard from above.