The drone of the airplane seeped into my dream. I bolted awake and smacked my head on the branches of my makeshift lean-to. The pain in my leg roared through me, a blinding streak of red that fogged my vision for a second.
But the plane was real.
I gritted my teeth and started to crawl out of the shelter, my heart racing with panic. The pilot could probably see my beached canoe, the remains of the campfire.
Maybe they found Drew’s body downstream, or pieces of the other canoe.
I waved. The plane dipped its wings and circled down.