The ground had a gradual slope to it. Uphill was behind me, toward the row of seats. My feet were pointing downhill. It would be easier for someone to find us if we stayed with the wreck or what's left of the wreck. If not, walking down seemed more reasonable than walking up. I looked up at the sky, or where the sky broke through the trees. I didn't have high hopes an aerial search would be effective. Maybe the rest of the plane, wherever it was, was more visible. It couldn't be too far away.
Coherent thoughts returned to me, and I fished my phone out of my pocket. My usual bars were replaced by 'no service." I tried calling and texting anyway. Nothing. Until the battery died, at least I would know what time it was.
The coldness of the ground and the chill in the air was concerning. I figured we might be stuck outside for the night. The temperature would only drop lower when the sun went down. I would have to find some shelter to block the wind and try to trap our warmth. Maybe build a fire. A vision of Tom Hanks jumping up and down in Castaway brought a smile to my face.
"Lady," I said casually to my patient, "we are going to need shelter. I have to leave you here and see what I can come up with. I suspect we may smell like air freshener when we're done." Pine needles will end up being our mattress. The woman didn't acknowledge me or chuckle at my humor. A bad sign for our bunking together.
"I'll be right back," I said as I laid her head carefully on the ground. I didn't want to leave her there, but I couldn't take her exploring. I walked perpendicular to the slope, winding around the trees. I turned back to the seats, and they were out of sight. Taking a deep breath, I walked back to the woman. I wouldn't be able to go far, maybe a 100 yards in each direction. Everything looked the same and becoming lost was a strong possibility. I tried my phone again, in vain.
I decided to search in a series of four straight lines. Uphill, downhill, and to either side. Short searches so I didn't lose my way back. Uphill became steeper quickly. It wasn't long before I decided crawling wasn't worth it. The trees seemed to ignore the slope and grew tall where I could barely stand without their help. Opposite to my first search, I located two suitcases. Neither were mine, but they were intact, showing little damage beyond scrapes that could have happened in any airport. I hauled them back to the seats. The lady still lay still.
Downhill held a surprise. A clearing developed ahead that excited me. At first, I thought it was a road, maybe a river or lake. I slowed as fewer and fewer trees blocked my view. Acrophobia invaded, and I could not go to the edge. I clung to a sturdy tree and stared out at a chasm so deep, I feared to look down. Across the vast space, many miles away, mountains grew similar to what I now knew I was standing on. We had most likely crashed into the Caucasus.
Thinking made me ill. There was little chance of a ground rescue. Parts of the plane could have plummeted into the valley below, further limiting the visibility of our location from the air. I tried to lean over to see the steepness of the descent. I could not see the cliff side and the slope made further investigation chancy. I created a new rule; no walking around at night.
I returned to my only friend, sat down and sighed. "We may be in a bit of trouble," I told her, "looks like it will be awhile before anyone finds us." I watched her face and saw no reaction. I hoped things weren't worse for her than I thought. "I did a quick search and found nothing but trees and a cliff. I think we'll have to sleep under an evergreen tonight and work out something better tomorrow." I might as well have been talking to a soccer ball.
My nearly useless phone told me it was going on three in the afternoon. I decided to get started. I chose a large tree, close to the seats, with low hanging branches. Underneath, I found a thick bed of pine needles. I didn't know where I got the idea they would be comfortable. They were dried out and pricked me often. Still, it was the only raw material I had.
The wind was picking up when I crawled back out of the tree after making room by ripping off some small branches. Ripping was the correct term. The saplings were so green they more ripped then snapped, leaving short trails of exposed wood and sticky sap.
"I need to gather some branches for a windbreak," I told my silent partner. I wasn't sure why I informed her. I knew I didn't want to be there alone, and it was better than talking to myself. The smaller trees provided easily accessible branches with sturdy needles. These needles were softer, less brittle. Possibly the basis for future bedding if that should become necessary.
Using the loose branches, I stacked them on the live branches then wove them together. I created the walls and ceiling of a tiny hovel big enough for two people, about three feet high. It took the better part of two hours and covered my hands with splotches of sticky sap. I decided to use the suitcases as the door.
I moved back to the woman after I finished. She hadn't moved an inch. Leaning down, I made sure she was still breathing. Smiling, I listened to her slow, steady breathing. She seemed more asleep than unconscious. No struggling for air, just soft breathing.
"Well, my dear," I chuckled, "for the first time in my life, I am going to drag a woman into my bed unwillingly." I thought for a moment. "Of course, I am going to need to give you a name. I can't imagine sleeping with someone without, at least, knowing their name." I stared at her silent face, so calm in the face of the danger. Her skin looked soft yet was paler than I would expect. I placed the back of my hand on her cheek. She was colder than I thought she should be.
"Dorothy," I announced as I stood up, "this is definitely closer to Oz than anywhere else, so until you tell me otherwise, your name is Dorothy." I rolled her on her side, then rolled her back into an almost sitting position. From behind, I tucked my arms under hers and lifted. I tried to keep my grip modest, away from her breasts, but gravity fought me. "Sorry Dorothy," I whispered as I walked backward toward the makeshift hut.
Dragging her inside was more difficult than I imagined. It would have been better to put her in first then build the structure around her. I damaged the right wall getting her in, but it was easy enough to rebuild. I laid her head on the pine needles, wishing I had thought of a pillow first. I extricated myself, crawling backward.
The first suitcase was locked, and I wasn't yet willing to break the clasp. For all I knew, the owner was doing the same thing we were. The second suitcase opened freely and contained a man's clothes. I was hoping it was the guy I left in the chair since he wouldn't need it anymore. A set of wool sweaters made the most sense. I folded one, crawled back into the hovel and placed it under Dorothy's head. I left the other for me. I crawled back out and examined the rest of the clothes.
Nothing of great value jumped out at me. Pants and shirts that wouldn't work as blankets. Underwear I preferred to leave alone. The socks might come in handy as mittens if it got really cold. I wadded up two pairs and tossed them inside. It would have been nice to find a blanket or large coat. I closed up the suitcase, leaving the rest of the clothes inside.
Searching the seats and what was left of the cabin wasted more time. I could find nothing we could use as a blanket. I thought about breaking the lock on the first suitcase. I shook my head and decided that if there was to be a second night, the lock was toast. Right now, I would allow the lock to do its duty.
It was getting dark when I gathered more fresh branches full of soft needles. I would build a natural blanket to hold in the warmth and, I was sure, make us really sticky. I crawled back into our tiny house, pulling the branches in with me. I closed off the end with the suitcases and spread out the makeshift blanket as best I could. If either of us rolled over, the thermal properties would be lost.
"Good night, Dorothy," I whispered as I laid my head down on my wool pillow. Dorothy didn't answer so I leaned my ear close and listened to her breathing. The reassurance that she was alive made me braver than I actually was. I needed her to stay that way. I wasn't sure I could handle it alone. Saving her gave me the mission I needed and kept my mind on an even keel.
I woke when it was still dark. My chest and hands were shaking. It was colder than I had anticipated. I tucked my hands under my arms and tried to warm them. The wind was finding its way through the walls, blowing our warmth away. Remembering the socks, I reached out of the needle blanket and rummaged around until I found them. I quickly put a pair on me and warmed my hands.