Far From Kansas

By Cathryn Bonica

After escaping the wreckage of a 777 and spending a harrowing night in a life raft with other survivors, Sharmayne Littlefield is relieved to see an island where they can safely await help that will never come. When an injured Fidelis Airlines engineer explains what happened and why they are still stranded--four days after the crash--Sharmayne must rely on her Penobscot Indian mysticism and her swimming skills to dive the wreckage in order to locate the black box to help bring rescue. Beside her through it all is Angus Rae, a rap star with one-too-many skeletons in his closet struggling to come to terms with his own mistakes while helping Sharmayne face hers. Finally reunited with her children, Sharmayne must yield her love for Angus and pick up the pieces of her shattered marriage until investigators discover a link between her and the plane crash. Lies and betrayals threaten to sink her, her husband lands on the FBI's list of suspects, and Sharmayne finds herself face to face with the one person determined to destroy her once and for all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cathryn Bonica
• Release date: Aug 8, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452414409

Cathryn Bonica

Cathryn graduated from the University of Southern Maine with a BS in Education. She currently works with special education students. Her first novel, Far From Kansas, includes themes based on the lives of working women who strive for balance between careers, relationships, and raising a family. Cathryn lives in Maine with her husband and three children.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Janie threw her busted umbrella in the stream flowing along the gutter and continued toward the house. Lights were on downstairs, and she could see movement through the rain-streaked bay window. When she saw his car parked so candidly in the driveway, there was no denying it. The bodies came together, one a brilliant redhead and the other an unmistakable jet black with fashionably-styled sideburns—his latest vanity. Janie stopped and waited for the nausea to pass while her husband kissed his mistress. One hand slid inside her raincoat pocket, cupping the bulk of Smith and Wesson pride. Bravado moved her feet down the slick slate path and up porch steps.

Janie's stomach summersaulted. She raised a dripping fist to the door and—

The captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. Please remain seated until further notice.

Sharmayne Littlefield looked up from her laptop as the plane bounced hard, losing her train of thought and leaving her protagonist hanging. Outside the window, lightning illuminated a cloudbank thousands of feet below. Turbulence rattled the bulkhead.

Sharmayne's stomach rolled. Sweat broke out on the back of her neck. She watched the man in the front row with a Fidelis Airline badge unbuckle his seatbelt and venture forward, holding onto the cabin walls and lavatory door handles. He had gone into the cockpit during the long delay at the gate but had not moved out of his seat in the four hours since takeoff.

She breathed deeply. Just a little turbulence from the storm. The sturdy Boeing 777 was engineered to travel through anything. Nothing to worry about. She looked around the dimly lit cabin as the in-flight movie rolled through credits. An older couple behind her watched out their window. In the center section, a tall drink of water with tattooed arms and the attitude of a celebrity snored softly. He and two black men, all dripping gold chains and designer labels, had boarded an hour after everyone else. The two other men drank and played cards in the left section, slighting each other humorously.

The plane bounced again and one of the card players—muscled like a bodyguard—sat up straight in his seat. The other one laughed and tossed back his cocktail. The man with the airline badge came out of the cockpit. Sweat glistened his brow. His eyes darted right and left as he returned to his seat.

Turbulence lessened as the plane banked sharply to the right. Sharmayne relaxed a little, returning to her distraught heroine perched on the edge of heartbreak and homicide. She tried to crawl into the mind of the character by drawing on personal experience. Seconds later, a loud bang reverberated down the left side of the fuselage.

The plane dropped. People cried out in surprise. The two card players scrambled to catch their drinks, swearing loudly. Sharmayne white-knuckled her laptop. Behind her, the man consoled his wife in what sounded like German.

The tall guy in the center section jerked awake. What's going on?

The plane jolted upwards sharply for a few seconds and tilted slightly down again. Again, the man with the airline badge got up and tapped some sort of code on the cockpit door. Sharmayne stowed her computer and moved to the aisle seat.

Attendants take your seats, the captain said, struggling to sound calm. Sorry folks, we are experiencing some difficulties due to the storm. We have turned north until we are clear. Please remain—

An earsplitting crack hit the plane, cutting off the announcement. All the cabin lights went out. Seconds passed in darkness, accompanied by a high-pitched whine from beneath the left wing. The plane banked hard and descended rapidly.

Passengers screamed. Red emergency lights came on. Sharmayne bit her tongue, heart knocking against her ribcage. She shut her eyes and gripped the armrests, trying to picture her kids' faces.

Gezeldigan, move. Now!

Her eyes flew open, the voice in her head decidedly not hers. Only one person had ever called her by that name—her grandfather, who passed away when she was fifteen.

Sharmayne watched the rapid lightning strikes in the blackness and focused on breathing until the plane leveled out, flying at a more horizontal angle. Jesus Christ. She let go of the armrests.

The first class passengers looked around at each other. When the cockpit door opened, the man with the badge stumble to his seat. He leaned over clasped hands, lips moving silently.

That can't be good, she thought.

Since there were no attendants in the cabin, she decided to move up and find out what was happening. Someone vomited to her left. Instinct told her to put on her backpack. She surfed the seatbacks and braced herself against the downward tilt of the aisle, holding on through a series of hard bounces, her palms slick with sweat.

What the fuck's going on? Muscles asked. The guy in the center bent over an airsickness bag and retched.

I don't know. She moved to the front center section on rubber legs and sat next to the man with the badge. His shirt was sweat soaked. He covered his face and mumbled something unintelligible. As she opened her mouth to ask him a question, the plane lurched down and to the left again. Sharmayne's stomach dropped. She was going to die. Terrified, she yanked a hand from his face. He looked as if surprised to find someone seated next to him. What the hell's going on? she barked. Are we crashing?

He said nothing, just turned away and folded his hands.

She took hold of his ID. Walter Petersen, maintenance engineer. Another loud bang shook the plane and she cried out, turning to look for the source of the noise. The emergency lights tinged everything the color of blood.

Clutching the engineer's arm again, Sharmayne dug her nails in hard. Walter! What's wrong with the plane?

He looked at her as if she had three heads. Nuh-nothing's wrong. The plane is fine. Nothing to worry about. We'll be out of this shortly.

An attendant came over the intercom. Attention all passengers. At this time we ask you to reach under your seats, remove the inflatable life jackets, and put them on. Attendants will be around to assist you. Please remain calm. Prepare for a possible water landing, the woman said in a firm voice.

Remain calm? Is she for real?

Walter Petersen sat rigid, eyes closed, lips moving silently. Shock and disbelief washed over Sharmayne. The thought of her children waking up tomorrow without a mother raised acid in her throat. My God, this can't be happening!

Panic broke out from the cabin behind.

The plane bounced up and then turned nose down.

Oxygen masks dropped. Bags fell out of overhead bins. Carts tipped over and crashed in the galley.

Oh, shit!

Women and men cried out.

Sharmayne bent into the crash position and prayed through tears.

The plummet seemed interminable. Next to her, Walter Petersen's monologue continued over the shrieks and cries of the passengers.

I told him this would happen ... check surge protector ... Oh, God … PFD out … Jesus, help us!

She focused on her pounding heart, thought of her kids, tried to recall their words as she and Tony said goodbye to them at the airport gate in Portland.

Forty seconds later, the plane slid across and collided with the Pacific, and the world exploded all around.

Chapter 2

Angus Rae came to with pain in his gut and the freaky sensation of being unable to open his eyes. Something tapped the back of his neck.

Fuck! What a rotten nightmare.

He forced his eyes open and lifted his head. The cabin slanted down at a crazy angle. Water rushed along the aisle, pooling in the open space at the front. Fat raindrops smacked his hair and shirt. Stunned, he watched Dion struggle to free himself from the seatbelt while his body weight strained against it.

The sound of crashing waves snapped Angus out of stillness. He put his feet on the seatback in front of him and pulled at his own seatbelt, looking around in shock. The rest of the plane behind them was gone. Nothing but a gaping hole. Sparking wires poked out from the torn fuselage. The right side of the cabin was crushed.

The man who had gone in the cockpit yelled from the front, Get out before this plane sinks! He struggled with a large yellow package that could only be a life raft, waving at the woman to help him carry it.

Come on, let's move! Dion grabbed Angus by the arm, and they scrambled up the wet aisle to where Niles leaned against the back of the last row of seats. Dion climbed up to the opening and balanced on a small platform of sheared-off bulkhead. Angus shook his head to keep focused and reached to take the package from the couple grunting to pass it. He and Niles hoisted it up, and Dion lifted the raft out as a wave crashed behind him.

Seawater slapped Angus in the face and the plane dipped down, slanting the cabin even more. The woman cried out. Angus stopped himself from doing the same. He wiped salt water out of his eyes, looking up to see his bodyguard no longer there.

Where the fuck are you, man?

Dion's head appeared. Get out here now! He reached down for Angus, hauling his ass out. Angus ignored the pokes and stabs from twisted metal and wrestled his way to slip off the platform into the sea.

Dion grabbed his life jacket and pulled him back onto the little platform. Help me get this thing inflated.

Angus's heart thumped. He felt the side of the package for some kind of handle to pull or valve to push while watching for incoming waves. Fast-moving clouds raced above, blinking a half-moon. His hand settled on an indentation. He reached three fingers through a rubber loop, pulled out sharply, and the life raft burst from its packaging.

Niles swore from his spot inside the cabin and Dion moved back to help the rest, leaving Angus to contend with the bulky raft. Waves constantly beat at him. He held the raft line and Dion's belt, straining to look for others trying to get out of the sinking wreckage.

Dion pulled Niles out, who swore and wiped his face with his free hand. Angus pushed his partner hard toward the raft. The cabin lurched down again, and someone inside screamed. Water rushed over his legs. He scrambled backward on the platform and slipped, nearly dragging Dion into the sea.

Chapter 3

Sharmayne stood on a seatback in the last row with Walter Petersen and remembered the older couple who had been sitting behind her. She turned in their direction when the plane dipped, lost her balance, and fell head first into the aisle, sliding down wet carpet into the water filling the front of the cabin. Luckily, she didn't hit any seat legs on the way down but entered the water and smashed her head on the front wall. Stars exploded behind her eyelids. She drifted into darkness; cold seawater brought her back as the life jacket pulled her to the surface.

Sputtering, she grabbed a seat leg in the first row and looked up. Her pounding head was an agony. The men were gone, leaving her like one of those stupid women in horror movies who manages to trip just as she is fleeing the killer. Sharmayne cursed, replacing panic with anger. Her backpack filled with water, and she didn't have the arm strength to pull her body up using the seat legs so she held on and tried to push with her feet, sliding on the carpeted aisle under water.

She searched left for a way out. Seawater dumped on top of her as the plane made another frightening dip, and she cried out. It took a few seconds to see the water level inside the cabin had raised enough for her to get a foothold on the front seat legs. She groaned, reached deep for strength, and pulled herself up on the first seat. Her head galloped with her heart and her legs were rubber, but she could have climbed with a gorilla on her back if it meant getting out of the plane.

You're okay, she muttered, panting. Don't panic. Just because the goddamn plane is sinking with you in it doesn't mean it's time to panic. Just keep moving and get the hell out of here.

Hey lady, come on! the white guy said, leaning over the edge of the bulkhead. You're almost there. Climb up and take my hand.

Sharmayne stood on the last seat and grabbed his hand. He grunted and swore, and she thought he might let her go. She tried to help by pushing on the wet carpet, but her feet only slapped at it.

Shit, he can't pull my fat ass out!

She grasped the edge with her free hand and pulled. As the man hauled her up, something sliced the inside of her arm down to her armpit. He pushed her into the water towards a bobbing raft. Fighting the chop, they swam to it and his two friends pulled them in as the swells carried the raft.

Sharmayne rolled over, dizzy but grateful to be alive. She strained to sit up against the pitch and roll of the waves. The first class cabin was still there, apparently stuck on submerged rocks or coral reef. A large piece of the plane burned off to their left. The night was warm and muggy; the sea tumultuous. Even as she took it all in, the raft lifted up and moved further from the wreckage.

Exhausted, she looked at the men. The one with big muscles paddled the hexagonal raft, trying to keep them in a position close to the light of the burning wreckage. The tall one leaned over the side making painful retching noises. Muscles' card partner bent over two pieces of an oar trying to fit them together.

Niles, you got that thing together yet? Come on man, we got to paddle! Muscles said.

Niles swore and threw the oar down. The tall one turned from the water, wiped his face with a wet sleeve, and snapped the oar together. Walter Petersen slumped against the side of the raft, staring wide-eyed at the destruction.

Muscles looked at her. Sorry we left you there for a minute. Had to get this thing in a position so it wouldn't bump into any sharp metal. That looked like a hell of a nasty fall. You okay?

Her head throbbed. She put a hand to her forehead and felt the bulging knot there.

You're bleeding, the white guy said, pointing at her arm.

Dark rivulets ran down the inside of her forearm, smeared her wet shirt, and dripped on her legs. She wiped a hand over the slice, wincing at the sting of salt water. A big swell lifted the raft. The tall one moaned and clutched his belly, then dug in with the paddle. Muscles crawled to the opposite side and they fought the swells, moving closer to the light of the fire. We need to stay near the plane, he said. This is where they'll send the rescue. We can't let ourselves get pushed too far away.

She tried to shake the impression that the whole experience was just a vivid nightmare. They couldn't actually survive a plane crash into the ocean, could they? Did anyone else make it out? she asked. What about the couple behind me?

Muscles shook his head. No way. That whole side of the cabin was crushed. Lucky you moved seats.

Sharmayne shuddered. She should be dead right now. We should check around for other survivors.

The tall guy looked out over the wreckage. You think anyone else lived through that?

We did, and we were in the front. We should make sure.

Muscles threw down his paddle and slumped against the side of the raft. Angus, you alright to keep going? I got to catch my breath.

Yeah, man. Niles, you need to paddle now.

Fuck that. I need a cigarette.

Angus and Niles. Who's the other guy? Sharmayne pulled off her life jacket and backpack and positioned herself to paddle.

You still bleeding? Angus said.

She twisted her arm to see. The cut was clotting. It stung but paled compared to her head. Let's get back to the light.

What's up with that guy? Muscles nodded at Walter.

The airline employee leaned against the side next to her. He had not said a word since they escaped the cabin, just sat with a look of horror on his face.

Walter? Sharmayne snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. The man did not flinch or blink.

What the hell's wrong with him? Niles said.

I don't know. He was fine in the plane.

Sharmayne resumed rowing with Angus, working hard to get back to the wreckage, fighting the swells. A few minutes later, they struggled to navigate the ungainly raft around floating debris and the worst carnage she could ever imagine. Mangled bodies floated in the water. Even in the dim light, the scene was ghastly.

Angus retched and spat into the water. Niles muttered, Holy shit, holy fucking shit.

They're all dead, Sharmayne whispered. She and Angus moved the raft out to the burning portion of the plane. Nothing but bodies and debris.

Chapter 4

I need a cigarette. Niles stared at Angus as if expecting him to produce a dry cigarette from his soaked clothes.

Dion sighed. Wonder how long it'll take someone to reach us. We way the hell behind God's back.

His man had been rowing for close to an hour straight, so Angus reached for the paddle. A loud moaning escaped from the first class cabin—along with a burst of enormous bubbles—as the plane sank. Angus and the woman paddle hard backward. The sound of the ocean rushing into the cabin was one of the most frightening noises he had ever heard. What if that happened when we were trying to get out? Fucking ill.

The woman put down her oar and turned to the dazed guy, lightly slapping his cheek. Walter? Can you hear me?

Who the hell is he, anyway? Dion started. I saw him go in the cockpit. When everything went to hell, he started freaking.

We're moving too far away. Let's paddle back. Angus ignored the churn in his stomach and dug in.

His name is Walter Petersen, the woman said. I read his airline badge when I sat next to him. He knew something was wrong with the plane.

You telling me this asshole caused the crash? Dion snapped. Is that what you're saying?

Throw the cracker over! Niles added.

No, wait a minute! she hollered over Niles. That came out wrong. He was fine during the flight until we hit the storm. That's when he started getting upset. If he did something to purposely cause a crash, why would he put himself on the plane?

Dion shook his head. Niles swore, crawled across the center of the raft, and slapped the employee's face. The man fell over, his eyes open but blank. He looked dead.

The woman moved fast, holding the oar in front of Niles and blocking him from taking another shot. Can't you see there's something wrong with him?

Niles sat back. He was just waiting for her to let her guard down, so Angus tapped his shoulder with the oar. Relax, man.

The woman tried to pull Walter to a seated position, straining as the ocean continued to roll beneath them. She leaned over and spoke in his face. Walter, sit up. Surprisingly, he did.

Hey, let's get back to the plane.

The sea was beginning to calm. Either that, or Angus was used to the sway and pitch of the swells. He steered them toward a flaming section of wreckage further away as the big one had burned out.

Let's stay back. There's fuel burning on the surface, the woman pointed out. We could be near the tanks.

Angus nodded. Despite her injuries, she was rational.

Dion turned the attention back to Walter. What did he say about the plane? How did he know we were going to crash?

I don't remember, exactly. I was terrified. He was mumbling and praying. I think he knew there was a problem by the time we hit the storm.

Who the hell would fly on a plane if he knew it wasn't safe? Angus said.

What a fucking moron, Niles said, spitting at Walter. He deserves to be out there floating with the rest of those poor assholes!

What else did his badge say? Dion said.

I think his title is Maintenance Engineer, she said, staring at the airline employee.

Jesus Christ. Dion glared at Angus.

Angus immediately went on the defense. Don't say it, man. Don't even say it.

I told you. Didn't I tell you? We could be relaxing at the Hilton right now, waiting for Stu to get back-

Angus cut him off. What the fuck, you think I planned this? We would've wasted another goddamn day. We had to get to Thailand before Chuck left for London. I'm no fucking psychic, man.

No shit. That's what you pay me for.

The woman took up paddling while Angus stewed. It wasn't his fault they ended up on the commercial flight. Fucking pain-in-the-ass Eve had screwed up his plans, as usual. As soon as they got out of this mess, there would be hell to pay.

Hey guys, have you noticed how we drift away in the same direction every time? the woman said, interrupting his fury. The swells seem smaller as we move away from the wreckage. And those burning pieces have to be resting on rocks or reef. She stopped paddling and looked around.

Angus glared at Dion. You know I had to send him to pick up my girls. I didn’t have any fucking choice! Eve would’ve had them fly commercial, and those media dogs would’ve made them miserable.

That’s why you should’ve called Chuck and told him you would pay double. I don’t do this for fun, man. It’s my job to avoid problems!

You two shut up for a minute so I can hear! the woman shouted.

They looked up and around at the sky, but she turned and cocked her head. The men stared out in the same direction.

Do you hear it?

Hear what? Angus said.

The sound of waves crashing.

Dion wiped his forehead. So? We out in the middle of the ocean.

Waves don't crash constantly on the open ocean. We must be in shallow water right now, she said. The cabin had to have been resting on something to stay at the surface for so long. And that piece we keep aiming for is not moving despite these swells.

What's all that mean, lady? Niles said.

It means we could be near land of some kind, she said slowly.

Don't treat me like I'm an idiot. I grew up in the city. All this shit is foreign.

Angus sat up. What about the land? Let's go check it out and get off this raft.

Forget about it, Dion said. We got to stay near the wreckage. This is where they'll look for survivors. If we take off, anything could happen. Whoever comes out here’ll think everyone's dead.

Besides, the woman said, we can't see a damn thing. It would be suicide to try to make it to land in the dark. Let's wait till the sun comes up and we can see what we're getting into.

She took up paddling and Angus joined her. Halfway back to the wreckage, she stopped and bent over the side. A swell lifted the raft, and she puked into the sea. The noise was enough to start Angus retching again. He held the hand line, trying to gain control of the dry heaves.

Would you guys get a fucking grip? Niles hollered.

She spat a few times and slumped against the side. Angus looked up at the sky. Stars danced crazily. He shut his eyes and the images of the bodies came back, threatening his stomach. Niles, take the oar. Niles opened his mouth to protest, but he cut him off. Just do it, man. They rowed back to the dwindling fire.

This won't last much longer. Then we'll be out here without any light, Dion said. How the hell we supposed to know what to stay close to?

The woman breathed deep through her nose. Anyone know what time it is?

Angus tilted his watch to see it. Almost six.

Good. The sun should be up soon, Dion said.

She shook her head. We were following the sun. Your watch is set on Hawaii Time, and we're somewhere between Hawaii and Hong Kong. We might have four or five more hours of darkness left.

They took turns keeping the raft in the light of the burning wreckage. Shock and fatigue set in. The moon slipped below the horizon, abandoning them to starlight and the dim glow of the distant fire.

Chapter 5

Don't think I ever been so thirsty in all my life, Muscles mumbled.

Dion. His name is Dion, stupid.

Sharmayne remembered her backpack. She threw the oar to Angus and rummaged for a bottle of water. The men passed it around and handed it back. She put the bottle in Walter's hand and told him to take a drink.

Man, that's ill. He's like a robot or something, Niles said, running a hand over his cornrows.

I think he's catatonic.

The guy was able to get the life raft and climb out of the plane. What the hell happened?

I don't know. Maybe he went into shock or something.

Niles leaned forward. I'm a find out if the fucker is faking. He moved quick, grabbed hold of Walter's legs, and flipped him backwards into the water.

Sharmayne, held back by the sopping backpack in her lap, couldn't move fast enough. No! she screamed, struggling to reach Walter's legs.

Cut the shit! Dion said, but it was Angus who jumped to push Niles away and haul Walter out of the water by his vest. Niles sprawled hard onto Sharmayne. She cursed him and moved next to Walter, slapping him on the back and watching Niles for signs of another attack.

What the fuck you doing? Angus snapped. You want to kill the guy? We just fell out of the goddamn sky, there's dead bodies everywhere, and you looking to add one more!

Cool out, Dawg. Just seeing if the guy's pulling one over on us.

You're acting like a head case, man!

Niles pointed at Walter with a shaky hand. That asshole knew there was something wrong with the plane, and he let all those people die! We could be floating face down in pieces, or burned alive, or drowned buckled in our fucking seats. As quickly as he had reacted against Walter, he switched gears and reached for her backpack. What else you got in there, lady?

She grabbed her bag and put it between her crossed legs. I have two more bottles of water, and we better start rationing in case we're out here for a while.

We been out here a while already. How fucking long does it take to get rescued?

I can't believe we been out here this long, Dion said. Commercial flight goes down in the ocean loaded with people. You'd think we'd have seen a boat or plane by now, right? He aimed the question at Sharmayne.

I don't know, she said, feeling weak and shaky. I've never survived a plane crash before. Who knows how they'll rescue us. I mean, they could come by plane just to view the wreckage, but they can't very well pull people out of the ocean that way. They might come by boat or helicopter.

How long will that take? Niles said.

I don't know.

What the fuck, I thought you knew everything!

Angus cleared his throat. Show the lady some respect. She saved our asses with the water.

Sharmayne leaned against the raft. All I'm saying is, we need to prepare for the worst possible scenario. We could be floating out here for another six to eight hours. Once the sun comes up, it's going to be hot. We need to ration the water.

No way we'll be out here another six hours, alright? Niles said.

Says who, you? You know that for sure?

Well, what the hell do you know that we don't?

Nothing. It's just a feeling. Mounting disquiet threatened to undo her. Dion made a valid point. No sign of rescue nearly four hours after the crash. Silent fear drowned out the white noise of crashing waves far off and the quiet lapping of water against the raft. Sharmayne grappled with the sensation of forgetting something. She pulled out her daybook. The pictures of her children she brought for the trip were soaking wet and stuck together, images blurred beyond recognition. With a small jolt, tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The high school English teacher's voice spoke up in her head.

Who can explain what the term foreshadow means?

Sharmayne lay back staring at the