Ashley Halsey III and Lonnae O’Neal Parker:
Dillingham, Alaska —
The mountain snapped the five-foot aluminum strut like a hard-bent twig. The metal sliced through the plane’s thin skin, shrieked into the cabin for a split second and mowed through everything in its way.
And then there was silence.
The complete and profound quiet of a spot on Earth never once touched by mankind and never likely to be touched again. Now a tiny red plane hung on the mountainside like a slapped mosquito, one wing askew, its engine buried in the mud.
The low-hanging scud that shrouds Alaska in summertime began to lay down its blanket. The rain that had for days made mud soup of the mountain slope turned its insistent sting against the plane’s twisted hull.
Emerging from his haze, Sean O’Keefe felt a bizarre sensation in his mouth. Like chewing on gravel without taking a bite. He explored that mystery with his tongue until it registered: His mouth was awash with his own broken teeth.
We crashed.
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