When We Were Lost Read online

  CHAPTER 3

  The first time Tom flew in a plane he’d been really excited beforehand, but also bored and impatient in equal measure. He’d been excited boarding, and really excited and a little scared for the first ten minutes. After that, it had been really boring and he’d fallen asleep.

  He’d never really enjoyed flying since, because the little peaks of excitement he used to feel had flattened out and the boredom had swept over them. Just about the only thing he did enjoy was the dream. He always slept on planes, and for at least the last five years he always had the same dream, or more or less the same one.

  And it was the only time he had it, never at home, never sleeping anywhere else. He’d wondered a few times if it was something particular about the cabin pressure or the engine noise, but he was none the wiser—it was just his airplane dream, and this trip was no exception.

  It was one of those strange dreams in which he still felt partly conscious, aware of the seat he was sitting in, vaguely aware of the low engine whine in the background. But rather than being strapped in, he felt like he was floating in the darkness, still in the seated position, but free of the seat and the plane, adrift in the open air.

  And then, all at once, he seemed to become acutely conscious of the entire world around him, of the air and the cold and the moisture, of the land below and the stars above. He was aware of countless people living and dying, and could see them all within that moment, some in daylight, some in the depths of night on the other side of the world, children playing games in a dusty street, lovers kissing in a twilight park, an old man surrounded by family as he rattled through his final breaths, images swarming around him from every part of the planet, oceans and deserts and hushed-breath forests and forlorn streetlights and empty amusement parks.

  It was as if his mind had opened, fully opened, but what he really loved about these dreams was that he felt connected, to everything. He spent so much of his life feeling like he didn’t have a place in the world, and yet here he felt he completely belonged, an integral part of all those lives and non-lives, of all those places and non-places.

  Finally, as it always did, the dream ebbed away from him, but one last vision crashed into his mind from the void. He was on a rough ocean at night, feeling almost a part of the waves, conscious of something seething beneath him, and then he realized it was a whale, gliding and crashing through the heavy swells, dark within darkness, a massive mournful muscular presence, and for those few moments Tom was part of that too, pulsing through the darkened ocean, a black abyss below, an endless sky above, and he felt at peace there.

  He was woken by a jolt, thrusting him upward against the restraint of the seat belt. He opened his eyes, saw the strangely half-lit cabin, took a second to remember where he was and immediately understood.

  Turbulence. He thought of Miss Graham, but also thought of Barney’s reassurance. He heard a couple of mumbles from here and there, guessing everyone had been sleeping, that they’d all been woken by it.

  The oxygen masks had dropped down, as if they’d been knocked loose by the turbulence, and they danced around now above the seats. Tom had seen that happen once before on a flight and he knew it was nothing to worry about—

  Another thud came, so hard that it jarred through the seat and up his spine even as he took off and his body yanked against the restraint of the seat belt. People were awake now and cried out, some even screaming, and Tom felt the adrenaline run through him and a sickly clench in his stomach. This was no ordinary turbulence.

  The next jolt was bigger still, juddering through the structure of the plane, and there was a strange wrenching noise that he could hear even over the screams, which were everywhere now. Things fell from the overhead bins, and somewhere up ahead, maybe ten rows in front, someone catapulted into the roof before crashing back down.

  There was noise all around them, but Tom realized there was one sound missing—he could no longer hear the engines. Tom wondered again if this could really be just turbulence, or if they were no longer flying at all, if they were actually in the process of crashing.

  He was tilted backward in his seat, but it didn’t feel like they were climbing. He tried to look toward the window but could only see darkness beyond, and then another wrenching crash shook through them and more screams filled the air and Tom felt a pain in his arm and realized Chris had grabbed hold of him.

  A bigger thud, Chris released his grip, Tom was lifted out of his seat, grateful for the fierce restricting pain of the seat belt. Then a shearing of metal that he could feel in his teeth, and somewhere through all the noise, the sound of someone in front crying softly.

  An odd, violent tug threw him forward before the incline increased and he flew back and down into his seat, the incline steeper again, another wrench, sounding this time as if the entire body of the plane was about to rip apart.

  Then a percussive jolt, almost like an explosion, and the floor seemed to buckle under his feet, and the air filled with debris and the roof above him tore open and before he could even see what was happening, the seats in front of him were hurtling away into the darkness, air was rushing in, and for the briefest moment it seemed they had stopped, but the seats in front—the rest of the entire plane—had kept going and vanished into the night.

  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.

  Barney said something else, but the noise of the other voices drowned it out, and then above them all, Joel shouted, “Quiet!” The voices fell away, the silence almost as full of shock as the babbling had been. Tom looked across the aisle to where Joel was also half-dangling over the drop, like they were on some particularly extreme roller coaster.

  He had everyone’s attention now and Joel turned awkwardly in his seat and said, “Okay, is anyone in this section hurt? Check the people next to you. Or if you’re hurt yourself, speak up.”

  There was a flurry of responses as they relayed what seemed incredible, that no one had gotten any serious injuries.

  The noise seemed once again in danger of building into a barrage of conflicting voices, but Joel put his hand in the air, silencing them. “Okay, quiet again. I think we’ve crashed in the rain forest or jungle, so it could be a while before a rescue party arrives, but that means we have to stay calm and organized.”

  Chloe’s voice came from behind, saying, “Where’s the rest of the plane?” It was as if she’d only just noticed it was missing.

  “Gone,” said Chris, no longer sounding like much of a joker. “It just tore off.”

  “So there could be other survivors.”

  No one answered her. Then Joel said, “Me and Chris’ll climb down and see what the ground’s like below.”

  Chris was quick to say, “Why? I think we should stay on the plane.”

  Barney leaned forward to look at Joel. “We should all get down, if it’s safe.” He looked up at the dull glow of the safety lights. “There’s still electricity coming from somewhere, maybe the auxiliary power unit, which means there could be an electrical fire—until we’re absolutely sure there isn’t, we should all be out of the plane.”

  Shen was sitting across the aisle from Barney and said, “It’s strange that the lights are working at all.”

  Barney started to reply, but Joel cut in, saying, “Okay, you’re right. But I still want to check the ground out first.”

  He release
d his seat belt and looked forward, like a nervous kid on the edge of a diving board, but Barney said, “Whoa, don’t even think about jumping down there.” Joel looked at him. “The cargo hold’s below us, so that’s a ten-foot drop, onto a fuselage that’s just been torn apart. There could be jagged edges, all kinds of debris.”

  “So I’ll climb down,” said Joel.

  “Or you could use the doors behind us. If we can get one open, we’ll be able to engage the emergency slide.”

  “Okay. You come with me.” He swung out of his seat onto the safety of the aisle floor. “I’ll check outside. But everyone turn your phones on. You never know, one of us might just get a signal.”

  Joel seemed to be taking on the role of leader and they all did as they were told. Tom and Chris both switched on their phones in unison, but there was no signal on either of them, and the mumbled comments from around the cabin suggested it was the same for everyone.

  Chris held his phone up in the air, moving it around, trying to find a stray signal. Tom simply turned his off again, figuring it was probably best to save the battery power for some time they might need it.

  Here and there behind him, people were starting to mention their parents, how worried sick they’d be when they heard the news of the crash. The irony was, Julia had flown out to Italy a few hours before Tom’s plane had left, and the yoga retreat was a tech-free zone, so she might not find out about the crash for two weeks, anyway.

  He was pleased about that, although a little part of him was curious to know how she’d have responded to the news if she had been at home. She’d be shocked, of course, but he wasn’t sure how much deeper her feelings would go.

  He remembered as a little kid that he’d always talked to his mom about the school day, what they’d done, what he’d enjoyed, who he liked, who’d annoyed him, all the petty triumphs and grievances of being in elementary school. Then the accident had happened, and he only remembered fractured moments of the months that followed.

  One of those moments was the day Julia had arrived and said she’d be coming to live with him. Live with him, not, look after him. And even as a nine-year-old, he’d known somehow that Julia didn’t want to hear about his day at school, about the things that excited him or bothered him, so he’d stopped talking about them, and in time, not much had bothered or excited him anyway.

  He didn’t blame Julia. It was just the way she was, and he’d reached the point of admiring her and being grateful that she’d been willing to take on a responsibility she’d never foreseen and for which she wasn’t well suited. It was no one’s fault, and no one was to blame, except maybe the guy who’d killed his mom and dad.

  He saw a light appear down below in the darkness and realized it was Joel, using his phone to show the way in front of him. Barney had been right about the drop and it was a shock to see Joel so far beneath them.

  Joel called up now, saying, “Okay, there are some branches and stuff to climb over on the side, but it’s pretty clear here in front of the plane. We could smell burning near the back—it doesn’t mean anything’s on fire, but I think we should all come out front for now.”

  It was only then that Tom saw Barney standing right next to Joel, so deep was the darkness and so weak the light from the phone. People started moving, a controlled rush to disembark, as if they’d simply arrived at their planned destination and everyone was eager to be on their way.

  Tom undid his seat belt and Chris finally gave up on his phone, turning it off before releasing his own belt. Tom watched him as he shuffled over onto Barney’s seat, then into the aisle on that side.

  Tom didn’t move himself, but sat there listening to the sounds of the others making their way out of the plane, down the emergency slide, the gentle ripple of voices moving away from him and then back toward him as the first people appeared below.

  There was silence then in the cabin behind him and he readied himself to move, stopping only because something appeared to be happening in the area around the plane. It was getting lighter, not a creeping dawn, but the urgent daybreak of the tropics.

  Suddenly he could see the trees rising up on either side, the hill in front, the same hill they’d so recently slid down. Within a minute or so he could see Joel and the others clearly, the daylight flooding across the sky so quickly that it was disorienting.

  And now he could see the reality of what had just happened. Stretching uphill from where he sat was the path that had been swathed by the back of the plane, trees torn up and thrust aside, the earth gouged, debris littering the slope, so much debris that it was once again hard to believe that the small group of people gathering below him had managed to walk out of it completely unhurt.

  CHAPTER 5

  Tom made his way to the back of the plane. The emergency slide had twisted a little, but it was still workable. He slid down and clambered over the few strewn branches to the area at the front, skirting around the group so that he was on the far side of them.

  They all seemed to be looking up at the remains of the cabin from which they’d just emerged, all talking again, trying to take in what had happened now that they could actually see it. Barney and Shen were even studying the tear in the fuselage body like professional air accident investigators.

  Tom looked up the hill. Farther up the slope he could see some of the large metal containers that had spilled out from the hold—a couple had burst open and the hill was also littered with suitcases and what looked like their huge hiking backpacks.

  At the top, the rise seemed to end in a fairly sharp ridge, and though there were still trees on either side of it, the plane had opened up a pass where it had collided. He guessed it was the ridge that had torn the fuselage in half, the front section presumably crashing down onto the other side of it.

  He looked up into the sky, already a faultless blue, but he could see no signs of smoke. He looked at his watch then, still set to the time back home, and for the first time he became truly confused. He checked to make sure it was working, then set off up the slope.

  Joel’s voice interrupted Tom’s train of thought, calling out, “Hey, uh, Tom.” He sounded uncertain with the name, and actually, had never spoken directly to him before. Tom turned as everyone else fell quiet and looked on. “Where are you going?”

  “Up there.”

  “Well, you know, I think we should all stick together, until the rescue party arrives.”

  Chris added, “Yeah, you know, it’s like in Lord of the Flies—we should all stick together.”

  “Exactly,” said Joel. “We need to be organized.”

  Tom nodded, smiling at Chris’s wobbly analogy. “So organize. If I see anyone arrive, I’ll come back.”

  Joel nodded, perhaps sensing that Tom would do his own thing no matter what. “Okay. I guess you can check if there’s any more wreckage.”

  Tom was already walking even as the voices started up again, Joel’s vaguely audible above them all. He hadn’t gone far when he noticed a carton full of bottled water lying by the side of the newly flattened path. The heat was already building so he bent down and freed one of the bottles, slipping it into his pocket before continuing on his way.

  A little farther on, he reached the first of the open containers. There were backpacks strewn around on the ground, but a handful still inside it too, and even without going over to look, he could see one of them was his own.

  He continued to climb and, though the slope got no steeper, he found himself breathing hard, his T-shirt sticking to him in the dense humidity. He kept getting buzzed by insects too. This place would be unbearable within a few hours.

  He noticed a piece of paper on the ground and bent down to pick it up—a boarding pass for someone named Miguel Fernandez, someone who was now presumably dead. Tom folded it and slipped it into his pocket without thinking, then looked around, wondering why he couldn’t see any bodies.

  He’d seen that one person fly out of their seat and hit the roof, but he had to assume the split in the fuselage had been pretty clean and the bodies had remained strapped inside. It was even possible some of them had survived, but that seemed one miracle too many.