Stones of Summer : Instinct (Part 5)

July 17, 2010
It was an incredible feeling really.
The thought that the plane I was on was now the same plane that was about to crash land in the middle of the Asian tundra. Snow could only hinder our impact so much, and there wasn't even a lot of it, the summer season had just kicked into full gear, melting most if not all the past fallen snow.
The alarm bells going off in the cockpit and the flashing lights that made this event seem that much worse did nothing to ease my asthma. The harsh fit would not pass until my inhaler was pulled from my carry on and thrust into my mouth, harder than I had intended.
The room wobbled a bit as a few people in seats gave cries of fear. I clutched my bag closer to my chest and prayed to God that we would all survive this. The pilot came over the air, telling us all to remain calm, but it was in vain.
We were crashing, there was nothing we could do about it.
The sounds the trees made when the wings of the planes cut them down like dominoes was horrendous. It was painful to watch, those were animal's habitats, and no doubt many an animal would suffer and or die because of a human contraption.
What was I thinking!?
Oh God!
"I'm turning into my mother!" It was utterly depressing. Especially since this was the last time I would ever think like this. My life was about to end, and all I could think of was the animals? I really needed to refresh my outlook on life.
And I had exactly ten seconds to do so.
The jar of the plane making contact with the ground made my teeth rattle and my bottom hurt. More and more devastation was brought upon the untouched land as we slid and scraped our way through the terrain. It was awfully terrifying. The man next to me looked as if he was having a heart attack. He was clutching at his chest and was blue and red in the face.
Uh,....no, he was just nauseous.
And all over my sneakers too.
Great, now I was going to die smelling like cheesy malt whiskey vomit. Rescuers were going to find my body and it would stink with the days rot and whiskey. I hope my parents didn't think I was drinking. Not that they would care. Let them think that, maybe they'll actually act like real parents and get angry. Then again, it's hard to get angry at a dead child.
Sighing, I shifted to rub the vomit off on the seat in front of me. It just smudged and rubbed further into my sock.
Great.
At last the plane came to a grinding halt then tilted over and dropped to one side sending all of us that weren't buckled in, namely two people in the back, dropping to the floor and sliding down towards the wall. The rest of us just hung there like dolls. The pilot came out, sweating profusely, and crashed against the door. He made an unmanly squeal when the door wouldn't open. The panic was written all about his face. I would have un-clipped myself from my seat, but I feared falling into the mess on the floor. Or worse. Falling into the mess in the chair next to me. The pilot grunted and cursed, fumbling and struggling with the door before finally giving up. The only stewardess on the plane moved to his side as he threw up his hands, turning to stare at each of us.
"That's it. We've survived the crash, but we are all going to die anyway. There is fuel leaking all over the ground and we are stuck inside here-"
Click.
He turned slowly to stare at the stewardess who had reached over, trying the door again, and pushed it open. The pilot turned pink in the face while his eyes opened wide.
"It was locked." The stewardess looked embarrassed for him. It took him a full minute of us hanging there for him to regain his composure.
"If you would all carefully un-clip your belts and proceed toward the door in a calm and orderly fashion, I will help you all exit the plane." The vomit man dropped from his seat easily, then turned to help me down with an apologetic look.
"I'm sorry, for...well...that...." I shrugged at we practically slid across the floor.
"N.B.D." The man made a grunt, but said nothing.
"Please move as far from the plane as possible, please stay together. We have already radioed for help; it should arrive as soon as possible." The stewardess commanded, still standing at the door. Once outside, a cool breeze coated our sweat and fear covered bodies. The pilot was the farthest away from us and was soon puking into the bushes. The choppy terrain was difficult to walk on, and the smell of fuel was heavy on the air. All four passengers and the stewardess moved towards the captain as fast as possible, all wanting to get away from the mangled wreck that was our plane.

No one knew what to do. We sat around in a scattered group and said nothing.
It had gradually come to this. We had moved a distance from the plane and had looked over ourselves for injuries. I grasped my inhaler tightly in my hand along with my bag. How could this have happened?
The sun passed overhead yet none of us moved. We were all going to burn, but I guess only I knew that. I covered myself with the blanket, casting myself in shadow.
"Hunny, yer' gonna' git' heat stroke doin' that." It was the same woman who had asked about the plane before we boarded it.
We were all shell shocked. It couldn't have been our plane that crashed. We weren't sitting in the wilderness because our plane went down.
I looked across the dirtied and fearful faces. One other person had something over their head. It was a shirt.
I looked back to the woman who spoke to me. I motioned at my makeshift cover.
"You need to cover yourself. It may be hot, but you won't get so severe a sunburn" She laid a shirt on top of her head at my instructions. It didn't cover nearly as much as she needed but it was better than nothing.
Hours passed, the stewardess made multiple attempts to make contact with anyone on the old beaten radio. All that came through was static.
We were hopelessly lost.





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