Barney was screaming, his voice surprisingly deep, not the scream of someone injured, but of someone in shock, repeating some formless and desperate syllable over and over. And he didn’t stop as they instantly started to move again, backward, gaining speed.

They were sitting on the edge of all that remained, their feet hanging into space, and Tom could see and was sure for the first time now that they were moving not in the sky but on the ground, could see some sort of vegetation in the darkness beyond the snowstorm of debris that trailed in their reversing wake.

They were sliding downhill, and he was bracing himself, knowing the real impact was yet to come, and Barney was still screaming, more screams behind them, Chris scarily silent next to him. How far did they slide, how quickly? Tom could only see the cluttered green darkness hurtling past before his eyes.

And then they seemed to level out a little, and more, and with one last unexpected snap and grind of metal, the plane, or what was left of it, seemed to shift slightly on its axis and came to an abrupt stop, thrusting him back so hard into his seat that he felt he might go right through it.

The silence was immediate and total, and so unyielding that Barney and the others briefly hushed too. Only now could Tom feel his heart thumping along in his chest, and all at once he was aware of the night open in front of him, the blanket of warm air, the strange noises of insects and animals like a constant background interference.

And he understood. They had been in a plane crash. Their plane had crashed, torn itself apart, and they had survived.

For now.

CHAPTER 4

Everyone started talking and shouting at once. There was no screaming now, no crying, just manic and garbled conversations. Chris said to Barney, “I told you we’d crash.”

“You said we’d all die too. Didn’t he, Tom?”

Tom turned from the compelling darkness of the night in front of him and looked at Barney. “We still might.”

Chris laughed nervously as he said, “Jesus, I was just joking around. I didn’t dream anything.” He had blood running down the side of his face from a small gash on his forehead.

Tom said, “You’re bleeding.”

He nodded, apparently pleased for the change of topic. “Something hit me.”

Tom glanced up, curious that he could see anything at all. Some sort of emergency lighting system had come on, filling the cabin with half-light, even though the wiring must have been torn to shreds.