Michael's eyes snapped open as his body tugged against the seatbelt. The second bounce sent Stuart's feet over his head as he tumbled over the side of the couch. He let out a yelp of pain as the jet’s wheels skid on the earth below.
There was a sudden calm as the jet came to a halt. Michael turned and looked out the window to see trees towering into the sky. A wide landing strip stretched through the heart of the forest. Michael sunk into his seat as the jet reached a complete stop.
Stuart slowly rolled to his side, then forced himself to a seated position on the floor. He rubbed his head and glared at Christine, but was too dazed and confused to comment.
Christine gave a satisfied smile as she stepped over him to the door. She pulled the lever and pushed the jet open, allowing the crisp Alaskan air to sweep through the cabin. A tiny stairwell slowly unraveled from the side of the plane. Michael was the first down the stairs. He was shocked to see the nose of the aircraft had stopped twenty feet from the end of the strip. A dense swarm of trees surrounded the jet in every direction.
Stuart followed him with a midsized ruck-pack swung over one arm. "She gave it to me but said it’s for you," he shrugged, "And you have to carry it." He said, extending it to Michael.
"It is not for him. He cannot have anything in that pack." Christine said from the top of the stairwell.
The engine of the jet powered-down as the sounds of the wild filled the scene. She stepped down the stairs, followed by a tall man wearing a thin navy suit that hugged his long skinny legs. He was clean-shaven with and had wrinkles beginning to show under his eyes. His nose was crooked to the left, and when he smiled, his teeth were stained yellow.
"Next time, wear your seatbelt." His voice was coarse from cigarettes. "You nearly put a hole in my cabin."
"She didn't tell me to—"
The sound of a distant propeller broke the calm of the woods. The group turned to watch as a burgundy helicopter approached the strip. As the chopper neared, a fierce wind threw leaves from the trees in the air. Stuart squinted as the harsh breeze pushed the liquid from my eyes. Slowly, it lowered to the ground humming as it landed fifty meters down the strip.
Christine patted Michael's with the back of her hand, "I'm sorry, but this is where we part."
"I'm not supposed to leave him," Stuart complained.
"This is where we part too," Christine gestured towards the captain, "It's just us."
The captain smiled a big toothy banana slug smile. "Hope you ride again."
"What am I supposed to do?" Michael asked instinctively. Speaking up for the first time since he'd found his assignment.
"There's a town a few miles in that direction," She signaled towards the opposite end of the strip. "That's where they're having us stay. I'm sorry," she took a step past the pair, "If you're alive, I'll give you a ride back to this jet,"
The two watched as Christine and the long-legged captain walked down the strip. With a windy huff, the chopper lifted off the ground and disappeared over the treeline. They were alone in the woods. Michael pulled the tracker from his pocket. Claude was in Portland Maine, 5,683 kilometers away. His dot was still. The time had started.
71:51:17.