Crikey! IC (M)
Descan Fry awoke with a start. Where was he? He remembered a plane and an explosion- a plane crash! He had been in a plane crash! An explosion snapped him from his thoughts. He shakily got to his feet. He recognized his hat, and grabbed it, before running towards the source of the sound. He skidded to a stop atop a small hill. Below him was a terrible scene. The front half of an areoplane was lying on the ground, fires buring around it.
Multiple people were lying around, or running, or screaming. He grabbed a nearby passenger and pulled them to a safe distance away. "That plane is goin' to explode again! Help me get other passengers!" he restarted the process, getting his fellow passengers away from the burning fuselage.
Another explosion rocked through the clearing, and the rest of the plane went up in flames. He watched in numb horror as the plane collapsed in on itself, in a fireball of death and just the worst smell ever. "Crikey..." he said quietly.
Last edited by SaltyIrishman; 12-03-2018 at 03:16 PM.
Pain. But not hangover pain. Something more. Something stronger, deeper. Her mind was a fog. Thoughts came but not in a sensible order. Pain. Smoke. She lay on something cold and hard, her body twisted at an angle she wasnt used to.
Slowly, agonizingly, her eyes fluttered open. The smoke stung them. She lay with her cheek to the floor, her legs bent and draped over a seat. It hurt to breath. Sharp little pains of fire that seemed more real than her thoughts.
Inches from her face, lay another face. The eyes were open, staring. She looked into them, waiting for the person to speak.
The said nothing.
No breath escaped.
They only stared, unseeing. A single drop of blood dripped down from the brow and across the bare eyeball.
Pain. She moved her legs gently. They worked. She moved her arms gently. They also worked.
In a haze, she struggled to her feet. Using the seats for balance, she stepped lightly over the person next to her.
The sounds around her were a muffled ring that she refused to hear. Her feet moved over more bodies, over broken necks, jutting bone.
Smoke and blood melted together in the scent of death.
She stumbled. Pain.
Clutching her side, she limped toward the light. It shone bright through a hole in which the smoke was escaping.
She stumbled again and leaned heavily into the nearest seat.
She didnt need that light. She needed a nap. Some sleep. Just a rest.
Roughly, hands grasped her. She saw in surprising detail the fine hairs on the skin. The wrinkles in the fingers. The dirt under the nails. Ew. Came a thought. She heard a voice but it didnt reach her ears through their ringing.
And then came the light. It washed over her. Clean air filled her lungs as the hands pulled her from the smoke and the unseeing eyes. She limped alongside the legs that belonged to the hands, never looking into the face. What if the face had eyes the same? Unseeing, staring, unblinking?
The hands left her. She stood silently as time ticked away. The hands had left her.
She lifted her own hands to her face. One of the fingers looked wrong. Just wrong, not like the others.
Slowly, slowly, the world around her began to come into focus.
Descan froze when he heard the scream. His head snapped in all directions before his gaze fell on the screaming girl. He booked it over, arms pumping, legs reaching as far as they could before skidding to a stop in front of her. "Are you okay?" He put a hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently. "Are you okay? Damnit, ARE YOU OH-KAY?"
The images surrounded her. The truth crashed in with the ferocity of waves.
She felt the heat and weight of a hand on her shoulder. It jarred her softly. A voice drifted through the screams and ringing in her ears. Her eyes met those of the man before her.
His voice grew louder, drowning away hers and it woke her enough to cut back the screams. She hiccuped, now quiet, and looked confused, vacant, into the man's face.
She felt his hand still on her shoulder.
Pain throbbed dully throughout her body.
With a slam, she recovered herself.
Ann lept back into focus and jerked away from his hand. She brushed hastily at her shoulder. "Ugh. Dont touch me." She snapped. "This is Balenciaga!"
She turned her back to him.
She swung her small pack from off her shoulder and dug through it to find the shot of liqour and her pill bottle. She dumped the tablets into her hand and washed them down with the shot. After she swallowed, she turned back to the scene.
A few other people were milling around, the plane carcass smoldered. The images stirred emotions, fear, sadness, overwhelming anxiety, but they lasted only a moment before she smothered everything into the deepest recesses of her mind.
She dug out her cell. The screen had cracked. She rolled her eyes. Now shed have to deal with it until she got back to civilization. She made a mental note to start carrying a spare.
She pressed the buttons on the screen and held the device to her ear.
As soon as I get home Im going to sue the ass of this airline! She thought. I can only imagine what Daddy is going to think. Hes going to fuck this company up so much...
The call wasnt going through. She pulled the device from her ear and looked at the screen.
She held the phone up as far as she could reach, and took a couple steps.
"Ugh! What kind of hell is this?!" She stomped her foot, sending pain shooting through her leg. In anger, she slammed the phone into the dirt and whirled on the guy who'd grabbed her. "Do you even know who I am? I have more money on me right now than youve seen in your life. If you get me out of here RIGHT NOW, you can have all of it."
"Princess, if I could get outta here, believe me, I would. But Sheila, this is Australia, the closest you can get to Hell without getting burned." He smiled. "What're those pills for? You'd better ration those. Lookin' around, right now, I can tell you, they'll run out before we can get more." He looked at her hair, her clothes, and her shoes. "Hmph. Those shoes won't last. But look on the bright side. You'll get a better tan out here than in any tanning salon."
Last edited by SaltyIrishman; 12-10-2018 at 07:13 PM.
Her eyes narrowed, "It's none of your damn business what these pills are for! And my name isn't Sheila!"
She looked around desperately for somewhere to sit but the ground below her was....dirt.
The plane carcass continued to smoke. She forced herself to ignore it. To ignore the death, the terror.
She didn't remember the fall. She didn't remember being in the sky and then suddenly not.
His words about tanning barely registered, but she snapped up, glaring at him. "Are you having a laugh? You think this is a game?!" She held her hand up in front of his face and screamed, "My fucking finger is broken!"
"Ah. So it is. Let me take a look at it. You're right, this isn't a game. That broken finger could turn into something worse without treatment." His accent turned finger into fingah.He held his hands out, ready to look at the finger.
No matter what she has said, or how she has said it, this man appeared unphased by her tantrum. It burrowed under his skin and annoyed her endlessly.
But it also took her by surprise, so much so, that she held up her hand for him to see. The pinkie was bent at the wrong angle.
Looking at it made her stomach turn, she could taste the liquor in her throat all too clearly.
"Are we it?" She asked. "The only ones alive?"
Last edited by Nope; 12-17-2018 at 12:50 PM.
Reason: Phone no type good
"No. I saw at least three others milling around." He studied the finger. Running his fingers over the wrong angle, he felt the bones. "Good news is, this is reparable. Bad news, the bone split into three distinct fragments." He pressed a bump in the side. "That's a bone. At least, a piece of one. But, if I..." he trailed off, and began to press against the bump. With a small pop, it disappeared. "Here we go." he flexed the finger back into piece. "I'll need to find a small stick and some natural cordage to insure it heals right, but otherwise, it'll be fine."
Last edited by SaltyIrishman; 12-17-2018 at 02:04 PM.