I hear the sobbing again. I’m almost certain it’s Brad. I turn my head as far as I can, trying to see him. With the rocks surrounding my position, my view of him is obstructed.
“Oh, god! Leo? Oh, god, please help me!”
My training tries to kick in but even moving to sit up is more than I can handle, and my vision greys out from the agony. I suck in a few breaths and freeze, trying not to make the pain worse. “Brad? Where are you?”
“It hurts so bad!”
I try to focus on the direction of his voice. Everything sounds distorted and his voice bounces off the surrounding rocks and the mist around us. Doesn’t help that I’m in so much pain I feel like I’m going to puke or pass out, or maybe both. I look up and spot the section of the fuselage, which still holds my seat, balanced on nearby rocks. It’s ripped open like a bear shreds a tent.
That’s when I see Andy’s still strapped in his seat, hanging upside down.
Considering most of his left leg’s missing, and he’s not moving, I think it’s safe to say he’s dead.
Gritting my teeth, I push myself backward along the ground with my hands and manage to wedge myself against a rock so I can sit up a little. The effort takes me several minutes and I nearly pass out again multiple times. I’m panting and sweating from my pain and exertion, which I know is bad. Because now I’m chilly, from the weather and from shock, I’m sure.
The whole time, Brad’s crying, sobbing, and sounds weaker.
“Brad, can you move toward me? I can’t walk.”
“I-I can’t. There’s stuff on me. I can’t feel my legs, Leo. God, I can’t feel my legs!”
He’s panicking while I’m struggling to hang on to my composure. “Can you see anyone else?”
“N-no. Just rocks and wreckage.”
I smell smoke and hear the crackle of flames nearby. It takes me a few minutes, a lot of screaming, and nearly passing out again before I get myself rolled onto my stomach again and pull myself over the nearest rocks so I can hopefully see more.
We’re either high enough up the mountain we’re above the tree line, or it’s a rocky section of mountainside devoid of anything other than grasses and low, scrubby bushes tucked here and there around the rocky outcroppings. I can’t see more than about fifty feet in any direction because of the low cloud cover.
Fuck.
We are utterly fucked. I can’t hear any highway or machinery sounds that might indicate a road or farm nearby. The wreckage that’s on fire is downslope from me, so it poses little to no threat right now. I’m hoping with the damp fog it’ll burn itself out and not carry embers to trigger a larger fire.
Although I still can’t see Brad, and I haven’t spotted any sign of Mike or the pilot.
That’s when I realize Brad’s gone disquietingly silent.
“Brad?”
I hear a faint whimper. “I’m sorry, Jeannie. I’m so sorry, baby. God, I just want to see you and the kids again.” He sounds dangerously weak.
Despite my pain I feel my balls wanting to crawl up inside my body. “Brad! Keep talking.” I still can’t see him. I think he’s below me, maybe twenty feet or so down the slope, but with the rocks, it’s hard to say.
“I’m so sorry, kids. I’m sorry, Jeannie. I love you all. I love you so much.”
I hear a playback and realize what he was doing—filming a message for them on his phone.
“Don’t you fucking give up on me, Brad!” I scream. “Hang on! Do you have a signal? Can you make a call?”
“No.” He sobs again. “I’m bleeding, Leo. My guts are out. I’m not going to make it.”
Shit.
Panting with pain and exertion, I scrabble around that rock and head in the direction his voice is coming from. But when I try to get my legs under me again, I black out from the pain.
I don’t know how long I’m out that time but it’s obvious I will not be much help to him. “Brad?”
He’s crying. The sound guts me. “I’m sorry, guys. I love you so much, and I’m sorry. Be good for your mom. Honey, you need to make a new life for yourself. Never forget how much I love you, but I want you to be happy. We’ve talked about this.”
