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“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.

A low whistle came from Kelly. “How in the hell we managed to live through all this, I’ll never know.”

Dylan shone the light to the right, were Johnson was laying on his back, his secretary collapsed across his chest and pelvis, and pinned down by part of the

roof which was laying across her back. Johnson’s face was a sickly gray and his breath came in whistling, groaning rasps.

“He doesn’t look so good.”

“I’m surprised he’s made it this long,” Norton remarked, slipping as close to the dying man as she was able.

“Hang on, let me see if I can move this crap.”

Norton nodded and knelt down by the couch, cradling her injured arm to her chest as Dylan carefully set the flashlight down and grasped the plastic panel.

Cat’s head was pounding. Now however, she wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the fact that the plane had just fallen out of the sky. She blinked, trying to get

her bearings, which wasn’t easy. Feeling something on the side of her face she reached up to find blood covering her fingers when she brought them away

from her face.

“Don’t panic Cat.” These words she said aloud just to make sure her mouth and ears were still functioning. “Don’t panic. You bumped your head, but you’re

still alive, so let’s just concentrate on that.”

She realized she could see by the dim light filtering in somewhere ahead of her. Reaching down into her lap, she struggled with the seatbelt. It wouldn’t

budge no matter how hard she pushed down on the release button. “Goddamnmotherpussbucket!” She slammed back against the seat she was trapped in,

fighting back the urge to scream out her frustrations. Her eyes darted wildly around the dim interior, trying desperately to find Dylan.

Her soft exclamation was heard, and the dim light sharpened and started to bob. A moment later, Dylan limped into view, followed close behind by the

team physician.

“Dylan! Thank god you’re okay!” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re limping.”

“Yeah, I know.” The flashlight shone into her eyes briefly before flicking away. “You took a pretty nasty knock to the head. How are you feeling?”

“Like somebody scrambled up my brains for breakfast. I think I’ll be okay, though, as soon as this damn chair lets me go.” She tried the release button

again, then sagged back in frustration as it still refused to give. She turned plaintive eyes to the two women standing in the aisle. “Help?”