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“I’ll give it my best shot,” Norton quipped, smiling as she held up her now splinted left arm. “Thank god I’m right-handed. And no ‘physician heal thyself’

jokes, if you please. It’s bad enough that an orthopod has a broken bone. The Wednesday golf sessions will never be the same.”

Despite the circumstances, Cat couldn’t help but laugh, which was, doubtless, what the physician had intended.

Norton eased herself in between the crushed and cramped seats, and a quick snip of her bandage scissors was enough to release Cat from her bondage.

“Alright now. Let me get a look at that gash on your head. God above, Cat, you’re not having the greatest of years, are ya.”

“No kidding.”

Dylan carefully set the flashlight down on one of the few level places on the destroyed plane. Then she switched on the second one, shining the light back

the way she’d come. “Take care of Cat,” she told the doc, “I’m going to check on the pilot and see if I can figure out were in the hell we are.”

As she turned, Dylan bit her lip to keep from yelping as the pain shot through her leg once more. Moving slowly and carefully, she managed to make her

way to the cockpit. Pulling the door open she, took a deep breath when she saw the pilot and what was left of the cockpit. He’d brought them down hard,

but they were alive. He’d given his life to guarantee that.

The nose of the plane had impacted with a huge tree which had all but obliterated the cockpit and the man who manned the helm. The stench of blood and

death was heavy in the confined space, and Dylan felt her guts roil. Knowing it was useless, but needing to try anyway, Dylan slipped her fingers along

what remained of the man’s neck, searching in vain for a pulse.

Only the cold stillness of death greeted her flesh, and she removed her hand quickly, wiping the thick, clotting blood on her slacks.

She set her now clean hand on his ruined shoulder, squeezing it. “I’m sorry, my friend. Thank you. For saving our lives. You died doing what you loved, and I

know that’s enough. Godspeed.”

She took a final look around the destroyed cockpit. There was nothing there that would be of any use to them. Rummaging around she managed to find

what appeared to be a cell phone of some sort, but before she could inspect it, she heard Cat call for her.

Going back to the cabin, she paused when another sharp pain shot through her knee. “What?”

“Do you smell smoke?”

Dylan lifted her nose and sniffed. “Shit. We need to get out of here.”

“How? Dylan, it’s storming, we have no idea where we are. Horace is…” Cat stopped, feeling as if she was going to panic and knowing now was not the

time.

The tall woman moved to the blonde and cupped her chin in the palm of her hand. “We’re going to be all right. I promise.”

Cat only nodded. She looked up when she felt Dylan run her fingers over a hastily applied band-aid. “I’m okay, just a little dizzy. But it’s passing,” she said,

hastening to reassure Dylan.

“Can you help me?” Dylan asked after a moment of careful scrutiny.

“Sure. What should we do first?”

“First we need to see if we can force the door open and try to find shelter away from the plane. I’m not sure it’s safe here.”

Cat stood up slowly, feeling truly like she wanted to just die and get it over with. “First mom, now this.”

“Easy, sweetheart,” she said absently, turning away before noticing Cat’s shocked smile at the endearment. “We’re going to be okay.” She handed her the

device she had found in the cockpit. “Check this out and see if it’ll do us any good. I’m gonna check on Horace.”

“’Kay.” Cat watched Dylan limp away, then she opened the phone.

Dylan looked down at Norton who was tending to Horace, trying to keep him warm and comfortable. Even as a doctor, there was little she could do, and no

equipment to do it with.

“The pilot is dead.” Dylan said softly.

“Damn,” the doctor sighed. “I’m not sure Horace is going to make it either.”

“Now for more bad news,” Dylan glanced at the blonde ‘assistant’ who had come through it with nary a scratch, and who was currently curled up against a

wall, trying and failing not to cry. “I’m afraid the plane isn’t safe. Cat and I can smell a faint hint of smoke.”

“I can smell it too, although that could just be residual from the crash.”

“True, but I’d rather not risk it. Cat and I are going to try and get us out of here. Will you be all right until we get back?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“Guess not.” Dylan sighed. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Returning to the front part of the cabin, Dylan watched as Cat worked with the phone. “Please tell me you have good news.”

“Sort of. It’s a Satphone. Bad news the storm is interfering with the signal.”

“Terrific.”

“It’s not all black. The phone has a GPS, and I think I have it set to broadcast an SOS.”

“How did you figure that out?” Dylan was clearly impressed.

“My oldest brother is an absolute technology geek. He knows all about this stuff and there were always magazines lying around the house. Now I’m not