Chapter 4 - Tracks in the SnowThe trek through the knee-deep snow was agonizingly slow, especially with my pregnant frame throwing off my center of gravity. Every step required a conscious, exhausting effort, but my determination burned hotter than any winter fire.
After twenty minutes of careful navigation down the ridge, I reached the perimeter of the crash site.
The scene was apocalyptic. Twisted aluminum hissed softly as it cooled in the sub-zero air, and personal belongings—scattered papers, broken suitcases, unspooled seatbelts—were strewn across a quarter-mile radius of virgin white snow.
And then, I saw them.
Near the fuselage door, two figures were huddled beneath the shelter of a broad pine tree.
A man in a torn, soot-blackened pilot's uniform was pacing frantically back and forth, beating his hands together to generate warmth. Even from this distance, I recognized the tall, rigid posture, the silver-streaked dark hair, and the desperate, frantic energy.
Lucas.
And sitting a few feet away, wrapped in a thin emergency foil blanket that fluttered noisily in the wind, was Vanessa.
She was shivering violently, her teeth chattering so loudly I could hear it over the wind. Her left leg was stretched out at an unnatural angle, the fabric of her designer trousers stained a dark, ominous crimson around the knee.
Looks like the golden couple's fairy-tale landing hadn't gone quite as smoothly as planned.
I stayed hidden behind a dense cluster of snow-laden fir trees, pulling out the compact binoculars from my emergency pack to observe them without being seen.
Lucas stopped pacing and knelt beside Vanessa, his face twisted in panic.
“Hang on, Nessie,” he urged, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet snow. “The emergency beacon on my watch should have triggered a signal. Rescue choppers have to be on their way by now.”
Vanessa let out a high-pitched, pathetic whimper, clutching her bleeding leg. “It hurts, Lucas! It hurts so bad! Why isn't anyone here yet? You said you knew how to land this! You said you’d keep me safe!”
Her tone wasn't adoring anymore. It was sharp, accusatory, and dripping with hysterical blame—the exact opposite of the submissive, worshipful damsel she had pretended to be while playing his secret mistress.
Lucas flinched under her verbal attack, running a soot-stained hand through his hair. “I did everything I could! The engine failure was catastrophic—it wasn't my fault!”
“You gave me that stupid parachute and pushed me out like a sack of garbage!” she screamed, tears freezing instantly on her cheeks. “And now look at me! My leg is broken, I'm freezing to death, and you’re just standing there useless!”
Watching them turn on each other like trapped wolves brought a cold, dark satisfaction to my chest. This was what their great, transcendent love was made of: selfishness, cowardice, and mutual destruction.
I lowered the binoculars, reached down to my belt, and unclipped the satellite communicator.
I didn't need to call rescue teams for them yet. Not while they were still enjoying each other's company.
Instead, I tapped out a short, encrypted text message directly to a private legal contact I had established in New York weeks before boarding this flight—a contingency plan I had set up the moment I realized I was reliving the past.
“Flight 402 crashed in Sector 4 of the Rockies. I am alive and safe. File the emergency asset freeze on all Bennett accounts immediately. Include the attached flight manifest showing unregistered passenger Vanessa Reed.”
I hit send.
May you like
The screen blinked: Message transmitted successfully.
I slipped the device back onto my belt, adjusted my parka hood, and stepped out from behind the trees, crunching deliberately across the crusty snow toward my husband.
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