"Carry the stewardess in here. We'll take a chance—and it's not all that much of a chance either. There's a damned sight more hope for her in here with a( broken leg than out there with only a bump on the head. Throw her blanket over the wireless operator -but whatever you do don't touch him."
Jackstraw nodded and went out, closing the door quickly behind him. I turned to the man who still stood shakily in the aisle, still dazedly rubbing his hand, a big brown square hand matted on the back with black hair, across a bleeding forehead. He looked at me for a moment, then stared down uncomprehendingly at the blood dripping on to the bright red tie and blue shirt that contrasted so oddly with the light grey gaberdine suit. He closed his eyes tightly, then shook his head to clear it.
"Sorry to ask the inevitable question." The voice was quiet, deep, well under control. "But—what happened?"
"You crashed," I said shortly. "What do you remember?"
"Nothing. Well, that is, just a bump, then a loud screeching tearing noise—"
"Then you hit the door." I gestured at the bloodstains behind me. "Sit down for a moment. You'll be all right." I'd lost interest in him and was staring down the length of the cabin. I'd expected to see most of the seats wrenched off their bases, but instead they were all there exactly as they should have been, three wide to the left of me, two to the right, the seats in the front half facing aft, those to the rear facing forward. More than that, I had expected to see people, injured, broken and moaning people, flung all over the seats and aisles: but the big passenger compartment seemed almost empty, and there wasn't a sound to be heard.