"Dorothy," I called out, hoping she was coherent. Nothing. I removed the socks, disturbed the blanket and found her hands. They were ice-cold when I put the socks on them. I reached up and felt her cheek. She was colder than I was. I tried to slow my breathing and calm my mind. I was questioning if we would make it through the night. The thought did not seem out of the realm of possibility.
"Dorothy, I hope your husband isn't a big man," I said with chattering teeth. I rolled her on her side, completely destroying the pine needle blanket. I cocked her legs and pulled her hands between her thighs. I scooted behind and reset the pine branches. I spooned with a woman I didn't know, my face buried in her thick hair. My arm wrapped around her, and I tucked my hand under her breasts. "Sorry," I said. Propriety was too cold.
How we survived that first night, I would never know. I slept fitfully, half my body warm, the backside like an ice cube. My feet felt like they would fall off. If Dorothy had not been there, I was pretty sure I would have died of exposure. She was my survival, physically as well as mentally. Her breath was still steady, for that I was thankful. When the sun began to shine, I crawled out of the hut after reburying Dorothy in branches and needles.
My muscles ached horribly, and my chest was fighting the cold. I chastised myself for using the sweater as a pillow instead of wearing it. I peeled back my jacket and shirt and found a large bruise on my hip where the seatbelt and armrest dug in during the crash. It was an ugly purple thing with a greenish border. I wondered if Dorothy had something similar. At least it didn't look life threatening. I went off and emptied my bladder a good distance from the hovel.
I spent some time stretching and jumping about, trying to get the blood flowing back from my core. I looked about and saw that nothing had changed. The trees and our part of the plane were the only things in view. I didn't like the odds of the cabin part being visible from the sky. I needed to do something about increasing our visibility. My stomach growled. I needed to do something about food as well.
I decided the first and best course of action was another search. According to the sunrise, the mountain peak was to the north and the cliff to the south. I could go out further east and west and not lose home base. Being on the safe side, I tied one of the shirts from the suitcase around a sapling near the cliff. If I got lost, I could follow the cliff edge until I saw the shirt.
My goal was to find a clearing that could be seen from the air and any other supplies, like more suitcases. Possibly find the other passengers or the pilot. Maybe a little boy.
"I'm going to scout about," I told Dorothy while checking her breathing. She hadn't moved from where I left her. It was not an encouraging sign. Outside of the shelter, I scraped an arrow into the ground, pointing east. At least if she woke, she would have some idea that I was here and where I went.
I decided that 15 minutes out would be far enough. I didn't want to leave Dorothy alone for too long, and I also needed time to build a warmer shelter if we were forced to spend another night. I checked my phone. 6:03 am and 20% battery. I quickly put it into airplane mode. I should have done it last night. The damn thing had been using battery trying to find nonexistent antennas. I headed out, figuring I would lose my clock sometime tomorrow.
I was a good 10 minutes out when I saw the tail section. It was in among large broken tree sections. I looked up and saw the damaged trees above, a little farther ahead to the east. The section had been torn violently. The metal had jagged rips unlike the cabin section I survived in that had separated along welded seams. I cleared away some of the branches and exposed a small door where the cabin once terminated.
The door was the size of a half locker and seemed intact. I tried the fixed handle, but the door wouldn't budge. Looking closely, I could tell the frame had bent and wedged the door tightly closed. I had no idea what was in the locker, but I wasn't leaving until I found out. I jiggled the handle, and it moved slightly up and down. I assumed up was open and down, with gravity, was locked. I found a rock and used it as a hammer until the handle was as high as it could get. I tried the door again, and it failed to move.
I stepped back and decided to try more force. Raising my foot, I slammed it into the plane's panel, just to the right of the latch. A sharp stinging sensation ran up my cold foot all the way to the knee. I ignored it and tried the door. It was looser but still wouldn't open. I kicked it again, this time with an added yell to help me ignore the pain. The panel collapsed, and the door swung open. Christmas had arrived.
Two thin folded blankets sitting on top of a metal box at the bottom of the locker were the first things I saw. That alone was worth my sore leg. Two small airline pillows sat on the blankets. There was a small fire extinguisher attached to the wall on one side of the locker and a small plastic box attached to the other wall. The box had a red cross I assumed identified a first aid kit. I couldn't stop smiling as I began to unload the booty.
The first aid kit was simplistic. Gauze pads, a stack of individually wrapped disinfectant wipes, tweezers, aspirin packets that were probably years out of date and a slew of band aids. There was a single cloth wrap for sprains. I pulled out a blanket and spread it out on the ground. I started adding my loot to its center. I had no idea what I would do with the fire extinguisher, but it was coming back with me. The two pillows and the other blanket were coming as well. I pulled out the metal box, more of a lunch box, and opened it. It looked like emergency overnight supplies for the pilot. Four packages of Ramen noodles, beef flavored by the look of the picture on the wrapper, box of matches, a small can, and a small metal cooking pot.
The can was surrounded by wording in a language I couldn't read. I pried it open with my fingers. It was a Sterno pot. The lack of silverware was apparent, but beggars can't be choosers. There were about twenty matches in the box. It was a gold mine. Only water would have made it better.
The blanket made a good carrying sack when I pulled the corners together and hoisted it over my shoulder. I decided to the cut the scouting out early and headed back to camp.
Dorothy showed none of my enthusiasm for the find. I was pleased she was still breathing and that, in and of itself, was another blessing. I pulled off her pine covering and covered her with the two blankets I had plundered. I smiled at my small victory and carefully pushed Dorothy's hair back from her eyes. I didn't like the dried blood on her face and now there was something I could do about it.
I opened one of the disinfectant wipes and carefully wiped the blood from Dorothy's face. She was a pretty woman, high cheeks that I was sure enhanced her smile. Her skin was smooth with a light tone that enhanced its delicacy. "I'm sorry to be this familiar," I told her as I cleaned, "but I can't leave you such a mess." She didn't respond, but kept breathing for me. I laid her head back on top of one of our pillows. She was so peaceful looking.
I sighed and decided to do what I had been avoiding. If I was human enough to clean the face of a live woman, I could be human enough to take care of a dead man.
It took some time dealing with the old man. My revulsion to his injuries turned out to be the least of the problems. The ground was too hard to dig in, not that I had a shovel, and there weren't enough rocks to cover him. I ended up finding him a nice tree well away from the camp. I laid him carefully and buried him in pine needles. It was the best I could do given the circumstances. I followed it with a few words, unsure of his religion or lack thereof.
I had heard no search planes or helicopters. Maybe the search was just getting started. Maybe they had no idea of the flight plan. Maybe the world didn't give a shit about a small plane lost in the Caucasus. No matter the reason, it seemed wise to plan for another night. I decided to reinforce the hovel instead of starting from scratch. Maintaining warmth was the number one concern.
After checking on Dorothy's breathing, I started to pile pine needles around the base of the structure. I collected the needles from under numerous trees, using a suitcase as my carrying device. The needles locked into the other needles rather well and I found they stacked right up the sides like insulation. A sense of pride filled my work as I got to the top of the structure and realized I had added about half a foot of width to the walls.
Stripping a few smaller trees of their branches, I laid new foliage along the needles to hold them in place. When I ducked in to check breathing again, very little light came through the walls. I tapped on the sides and found them rather sturdy. I didn't know how it would handle rain, but wind would have a tough time breaking through. Rain reminded me of water.
I remembered a survival rule from when I was a child. It may not be accurate, but it was what I knew. It was called the Rule of Three. Three minutes without air, three days without water and three weeks without food. We were twenty-four hours without water. That meant two more days before serious problems would occur. Not to mention that eating dried Ramon didn't sound appealing.
Cold first. I gathered deadfall for firewood. It was another resource that was not difficult to find. With a limited supply of matches, once a fire was lit I intended to keep it going. With hot enough coals, even the fresh branches would burn. It struck me that the fresh branches might smoke more as well. Possibly a visual sign for a plane. I smiled at my brilliance.
I created a wood pile under our tree. I figured if it rained, the branches would at least try and keep it dry and maybe it would help block some wind. I dragged larger logs into the small clearing between the trees. They would be seats before I fed them into the fire foot by foot. When I was done, I sat on one of the logs.