Page 90 of The Last Man on Earth
She scrambles off me, grabbing for her clothes. We’re both fumbling, panicking, half naked and in full disbelief.
I yank on my pants while she pulls on her top, then we sprint down the sand, waving our arms like maniacs.
The plane circles lower and closer than the last one ever got. My heart is pumping so hard I have to gasp to get any oxygen tomy brain. Ari’s braids bounce around her shoulders as she jumps up and down, her belly moving with her.
Then, a crackle from above. A voice echoing through the sea air.
“This is Search and Rescue. If you are the missing passengers from Flight 297, please hold up one arm.”
Shit,arewe? For the life of me, I can’t remember that damn flight number.
But Ari lifts her arm right up, so I do the same.
The voice comes again, but it’s warmer this time. “It’s good to see you. Please step back toward the tree line.”
Barefoot and anxious, we rush back, clinging to each other like we’re scared we’re about to wake up from a dream.
The plane circles again, lower this time, then I see two small objects drop and hit the beach with a thud and a cloud of orange dust explode onto the sand around them.
“The rescue helicopter will be here in no more than one hour. Repeat—one hour.”
The plane banks, glinting in the sunlight, then disappears over the horizon.
We look at each other, but neither of us speaks. Ari’s hand goes to her mouth. Mine goes to the back of my neck.
We stare at each other for a while until she says, “Did that really just happen?”
“Yeah,” I say, my throat tight. “It really happened.”
For a moment, neither of us moves. Then she starts to cry, the deep, soul-shaking kind that rips out of your throat. I pull her into my arms, burying my face in her braids.
I just hold her for a while, still shocked my damn self, but a different mode just switched on. I make a mental list of shit we need to do, then I kiss her forehead and tell her we need to get started.
RESCUE
Chapter 44
Ari
Vincent blows out ashaky breath. “We need to start packing.”
I nod. My voice isn’t working yet, so I follow him through the trees to the home we made, looking around in disbelief.
We move slowly, collecting what’s left of our lives here. Some of the things I pick up—the ponchos, the bamboo clothesline, the lighter—I end up putting back because I realize we won’t need them.
Vincent is sitting at the edge of the shelter with his head down when I finish zipping up my bag. I walk over to him, grabbing his face in my hands.
“What’s wrong?”
He gestures vaguely. “What’s gonna happen to…them?” he asks quietly. “We just gon’ leave ‘em out here?”
I swallow hard. “Somebody will bring them home. I promise.”
He nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. His eyes stay fixed in the direction of the wreckage like he expects the dead to walk out of the woods and greet us here.
I sit next to him, shifting until my stomach is comfortable. Another round of tears overtakes me, but I have no idea why I’m crying. I can’t even tell if I’m happy or not.
I look at Vincent when I hear him sniffle. I reach over to hug him but he goes to his knees. At first, I think he’s praying, but then I see what he’s holding—a baggy of pills, and a tiny bag of white powder. He digs a small hole with his hands and drops them both in before covering it up with sand and dirt, pressing it flat.
