side of her dark, gorgeous curls were now matted and soaked with blood…as was the torso of her flight suit. With each breath Carrie took, Eve could hear the tell-tale gurgling, sucking sound beneath.
Sweet mercy. Carrie had punctured a lung.
Eve wiped the tears from her eyes only to discover they were mixed with her own blood. She didn’t bother seeking out the source, just wiped her hand on her sleeve and gritted her teeth against the agony in her chest as she reached out to smooth her fingers down the side of Carrie’s frighteningly pale neck, automatically checking her pulse.
It was thready, but it was there.
Thank God.
She swallowed firmly, nearly choking on her relief as she prayed her friend was conscious. “C-Carrie?”
Nothing. Not so much as a groan. Just the soft scratching of a thousand rustling leaves and branches scraping against the outside of the chopper.
“Carrie?”
“Hmm?”
Relief seared through Eve again. “Carrie, wake up. We have to get out of here. I smell fuel—” Eve winced as she risked a deeper mouthful of air. It hurt just to breathe. “The chopper must be leaking.” And given the twisted wreckage surrounding them, there was no way she’d be able to reach the fuel cutoff switch. “Carrie?”
“You…go.”
The whisper was so low she almost missed it. Carrie’s lips moved again, but she couldn’t make out the words that followed. Eve braced herself as she took another agonizing breath, this one cautious and shallow.
Yes, shallow was definitely better. Manageable.
Her chest still hurt like hell, but not nearly as much. “Carrie, please. The chopper could blow any second.”
“Go.”
Dammit, she didn’t have time to argue.
They didn’t have time.
Eve struggled to ignore the rasping gurgle coming from Carrie’s lungs as well as the agony slicing her own as she reached out to unlatch Carrie’s harness. She’d just have to find the strength to drag her friend out. Her slippery fingers found the buckle to Carrie’s harness. But just as she was about to release it, Carrie’s icy hands closed over hers.
“Carrie, please. I can’t leave you. I won’t.”
“Must…doesn’t m-matter. He’s dead. It’s dead. F-feel it.”
He?
Sergeant Turner.
Eve raised her hands to those dark, silky curls she’d always envied, desperately trying to ignore the blood as she smoothed them from Carrie’s cheek. “You can’t know that. He could be okay. I don’t see the passengers, just the chief. They must have been thrown free.”
“W-was. See him…th-there.”
Eve braced herself against the pain and turned to follow Carrie’s tortured gaze, and understood the deep keening within it. Sergeant Turner was five, maybe six trees away.
Dead.
Given the sickeningly odd angle in his neck, there was no way the man could be otherwise.
Bishop.
But Eve couldn’t see him. She could only pray the captain had been thrown free as well—and would live to tell of it. But right now, she had to get Carrie out of the wreckage. The searing stench of fuel had taken on nauseating proportions. At least, she was pretty sure the reaction in her stomach was due to the leaking fuel and not her own injuries.
Either way, they had to get out.
“Honey, I’m sorry he’s dead. But you have to live. You have to try. Sergeant Turner—Bill. Bill would want you to. You have so much to live for. You know you do.”
But her friend just blinked back her tears.
“Carrie, please.”
“T-told you. It’s d-dead…gone.” She coughed. “I c-can…feel it.”
“Don’t talk like that—”
“The b-baby…ours…it’s gone.”
What?
Eve hadn’t realized she’d breathed her shock out loud until Carrie answered her. Or maybe Carrie had read her mind.
“So s-sorry. I didn’t know h-how to…tell you. Please, m-make sure we’re b-buried w-with him.”
No!
Dammit, no. Carrie was not giving up.
She wouldn’t let her.
But before she could argue, Carrie started coughing again—and this time, she began hacking uncontrollably. Eve forced the panic down and held her friend’s hand until the coughs eased. “One m-more thing, p-promise m-me…” Oh God, Carrie’s whispers were getting weaker. The rasping gurgle in her lungs, louder. Frothy blood had begun to bubble and seep from the side of her mouth. She was losing her.
She had to act.
Now.
Eve ignored Carrie’s gasps as she grabbed the buckle again. But again, Carrie’s hands found hers. They were beyond icy now. Almost white.
“P-promise…me.”
“Anything.” She’d promise anything in the world if Carrie would just let her help.
“Don’t…h-hate me.”
Eve’s mind and heart shrieked in unison. No! Dammit, no. This was not happening. Her best friend was not dying.
But she was.
Eve could feel it even as those icy fingers lost their grip and slipped away from her own hands altogether.
Just do it. Promise her. Let the woman die in peace.
Lie.
She smoothed Carrie’s matted curls back one last time and kissed her shattered cheek. “I promise. I won’t hate you.”
Carrie managed a smile, and then she was gone.
Eve screamed.
The loss was excruciating. Unbearable. So intense, she couldn’t even feel the agony wracking her ribs anymore. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, shaking Carrie’s shoulders, begging her, shouting at her to come back, not to abandon her. But eventually, reality set in.
The smoke set in.
The sweltering flames.
The leaking fuel had finally ignited. The Black Hawk was burning, its searing metal creaking and bubbling
