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“Tristan.” The word comes out almost like a cry. In the faint moonlight coming in through the windows, I see him leaning on the seat in front of me, hovering over me. I imagine his dark brown eyes searching me worriedly.
“Are you hurt?”
“Just my temple, but I’m not bleeding,” I say, running my fingers over the tender spot. I assess him next. It’s difficult given the dim moonlight. His white uniform shirt is smeared with dirt, but he appears unharmed. I turn my head toward the window. I can’t gauge anything outside in the darkness.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“We landed,” Tristan says simply, and when I turn to look at him he adds, “… in the rainforest.”
I nod, trying not to let the tight knot of fear in my chest overtake me. If I let it spiral out, I may not be able to control it.
“Shouldn’t we … like… leave the plane or something? Until they rescue us? Is it safe for us to be inside?”
Tristan runs a hand through his short, black hair. “Trust me, this is the only safe place. I checked outside for any fuel leaks, but we’re good.”
“You got out?” I whisper.
“I want—” I say, opening my seatbelt and trying to stand. But dizziness forces me back into my chair.
“No,” Tristan says, and he slumps in the seat opposite mine on the other side of the slim aisle. “Listen to me. You need to calm down.”
“How deep in the forest are we, Tristan?”
He leans back, answering after a long pause. “Deep enough.”
“How will they find us?” I curl my knees to my chest under the blanket, the dizziness growing. I wonder when Tristan put the blanket over me.
“They will,” Tristan says.
“But there is something we can do to make it easier for them, isn’t there?”
“Right now, there isn’t.”
“Can contact someone at base?” I ask weakly.
“No. We lost all communication a while ago.” His shoulders slump, and even in the moonlight, I notice his features tighten. His high cheekbones, which usually give him a noble appearance, now make him look gaunt. Yet instead of panic, I’m engulfed in weakness. My limbs feel heavy. Fog settles over my mind.
“What happened to the engine?” I whisper.
“Can you repair it?”
“There is really no way to send anyone a message?”
“No.” As if in a dream, I feel Tristan put a pillow under my head and recline my seat.