Stranded and Alone (IC)

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Bernadette had always enjoyed flying. Perhaps it was the feeling of being free from the world below, or perhaps it was that the small packets of peanuts seemed to taste better than any peanuts found in a grocery store. However, this time as she buckled her seatbelt and pulled the window shade next to her closed, she couldn't shake the sick feeling in her stomach. For all she cared, the plane could fly around the world five times and never land, or crash and burn with her in it, as long as she didn't have to set foot in that dreaded airport and beyond that, the city. She checked her watch for the hundredth time and motioned for the flight attendant.

"How can I help you, ma'am?" The flight attendant asked, bending over to smile in Bernadette's face.

Bernadette gave her a quick half-smile. "Yes, could I get a glass of champagne, please, or maybe something stronger?"

The flight attendant chuckled. "I'm sorry, but we won't be serving alcohol for another hour."

"What, why?" Bernadette's face darkened and she nodded politely to the flight attendant. "Then a cup of water, if you don't mind."

The woman stood up and walked away from the girl, who fumbled through her purse and pulled out a bottle of aspirin, shaking out four of the pills and popping them into her mouth with a grimace. She crossed her ankles and rested her head against the seat, staring blankly at the television screen in the seat in front of her.
 
Alex gulped as he walked, shaking, down the plane's aisle, trying his best to not make eye contact with any other passenger, he was failing. He met other's gazes with a weak smile that was obviously forced. He did his best to avoid flying, spending hours alone in his car sat just fine with him, unfortunately now he was forced into it. He hadn't flown much, but from the moment he boarded the plane something just felt... Off. Though, many things felt off to Alex, so he did his best to shrug it off.

The people on the plane felt bigger than usual, mostly their eyes and ears but just in general they seemed to be giants. As tunnel vision began to set in he realized what was happening, he found the seat at the farthest possible back part of the plane and collapsed into it. His breathing was heavy and his chest hurt, but both feelings faded as he calmed himself and pulled out his notebook and a pen. It would have been very unfortunate if he had an attack on the plane, things could get more than ugly if he lost it in any public place, but on a plane? Someone could get hurt!

Of course it didn't help that he hadn't slept in... He checked his phone to get the time... 31 hours. Frustrated by his lack of sleep he closed his window's shutter and began writing furiously, grateful for the privacy brought about by his seats position but annoyed by himself for almost placing himself and others on the plane in an awkward position. He glanced up to the television in front of and let out of a huff of air, he returned to silently writing. A small smile grew on his face.
 
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This entire airline fiasco was on the verge of ruining the first foreign vacation Chloe-Jane had ever had the pleasure of enjoying. One of her favorite artists in the entire world, a famed graphic designer, had unveiled some of his new work in Shanghai, and she had just saved up enough money to do something. It had been a wonderful experience- she'd gotten his autograph on one of his earlier works in illustration in a book she kept somewhere near her bedside at all times, had managed to get a little networking in with others in the industry and other industries and companies themselves, and had had some of the best Chinese food she had ever tasted. She was a little amazed she had gotten it on board the plane honestly, but then there were at least 4 tins of food hidden inside her luggage down in the cargo hold. For now, back in 'premium' economy, she tried to eat while the man beside her toward one aisle snored and the woman on her other side beside the other aisle did her best not to touch her neighbor. This helped her do her best to ignore all the strange vibes the plane gave off, focusing on other things. If she thought too much about it, she'd start getting goose-bumps again.

The only reason she was here and not in coach, and still not enjoying it was that the airline had overbooked their direct flight to Toronto, and the one to Montreal, and there wasn't one to Ottawa and the closest they could get her was one to New York and then sitting through a 4 hour layover before there was a flight arranged by some other airline from there back to Toronto. They hadn't even upgraded her to first class. Usually that wouldn't have bothered her much- she had been prepared for even less space than this. What her problem was, was that no one had tried to help her at all and she had had to become demanding in order to not have to pay the exorbitant charge for another ticket because of the airline's mistake, having flashes back to her mother doing much the same thing when she had to and how it had embarrassed her and her brother back then.

At least for now she was on her way she supposed. She had a few souveniers for her roomate and her parents and Dell's family and herself, but what she was most looking forward to giving was a big old piece of her mind to Jace when she saw him for the 'big date' he was planning for her return. She soured immediatly and stuck some chicken in her mouth to make herself feel better, ruminating on exactly what she was going to say when she finally got home.
 
Having spent 6 years in the Air Force stationed in Europe, flying was something that Josh just became used to. He didn't enjoy dealing with security, but the rest of it he was quite used to. He was good at sitting in places for long periods of time, just lost in his own mind. So boredom was never really a big deal. Being on the plane was the easiest part for him. He didn't eat or drink, which allowed him to remain in his seat most of the time and just sleep. Sleeping was his favorite thing to do. He was a very vivid dreamer and his dreams tended to be filled with crazy antics and adventures.

This flight, however, was the first time actually flying with his pregnant wife. She, however, hated flying and being pregnant didn't make things easier. Also, being short (only 5' tall), she found it hard to sleep since her feet wouldn't touch the ground. Josh did his best to keep his wife comfortable, the lifted up the arm rest between them so she could curl up on her seat and rest on him. This was still a bit cramped for her, but for him it was quite uncomfortable. He didn't care. His wife's comfort came first and after doing her best to get comfortable, she popped a couple melatonin and did her best to try and sleep. Josh suffered through it physcially, but mentally everything was just fine. He was very excited for their child on the way and he typically day dreamed of raising an intelligent and emotionally stable child with little cares in the world who could focus on their dreams and education. He wanted this more than anything else. But for now he sat, in silence, rubbing his wife's scalp to calm her down and make her feel at ease.
 
The sounds of flying were a sweet lullaby to David and his troubled mind. Being in the profession that he was, David traveled to many places, mainly for conferences and the occasional run away criminal. He had grown accustomed to the collaborative symphony of baby wails, snores, and sickly coughs. Usually, he would be resting in coach; however, for some reason David couldn't quite put his finger on, he actually preferred sitting up with everyone else. It made him feel more normal, like he was just one of the hoard. He didn't understand why he had the right to sit in a more comfortable section of the plane just because he was law enforcement. Maybe it was fear? Or was it respect? Regardless, David knew that he was just like everyone else, and really, that's all he wanted. They had been on this flight for a little over 6 hours now, and stiffness had already begun to settle into David's back and legs. 'Maybe if I reposition, I can get settled in comfortably for the rest of the flight,' David thought to himself.

Turning to move into a different position, David looked back on the rest of the plane. 'Same old, same old.' There wasn't anyone who really stood out. Some girl scouts and their troop sat a few seats back from him, obviously going on a trip to New York as some sort of prize for selling the most cookies. In the far left corner sat some newly weds, snuggling happily watching the inflight movie with each other. 'Honey moon, huh?' David inferred.

Back in the farthest corner sat an Asian-American boy who was scribbling away viscously into his notebook. Picking up on some silent clues, he deduced the kid was most likely distracting himself in order to avoid some anxiety attack. A few rows in front of him sat an obviously annoyed mixed race woman engraving her name into the seat in front of her with her eyes. Close to her sat a confident man sitting with his pregnant wife, attempting to lull her to sleep by rubbing her troubled scalp. A shock of pain shot through his chest and spine. He quickly adverted his eyes to someone else on the plane, trying to repress the memory that had just resurfaced. His eyes fell on a smaller woman, squirming into her seat as an attendant brought her a glass of water to sooth her thirst. David could tell she was peeved about something, but right now, that wasn't his problem.

A flash of the same painful memory ran across his eyes, causing David to grip his head and turn forward. The woman next to him was asleep, and no one had sat on his other side. In this moment of isolation and loneliness, sure no one was watching, David allowed a few tears to drop from his eyes. He usually didn't think of her. After all, he had repressed any thought related to her for a year now. It was just that -- seeing that couple -- no. No, David wasn't gonna start a scene here among people he didn't know, among people that didn't care about him or his well being. David clenched his fist tight, bit his inner lip, and eventually stopped the flow of tears from his eyes. Moving quickly, David wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and gave one brief sniff. Once he was back to normal and put together, he laid his head back against the seat, closing his eyes and trying to forget.
 
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Astor was more than ready to fly back to New York after taking a weekend-long vacation in Shanghai, feeling home-sickness already starting to take a toll on her, despite being gone only a couple of days. Plopping down into her plane seat, Jane rummaged through her carry-on and set a book in her lap, bent at the corners and tearing at the top of its cover from a number of less than careful stuffings into bags. She had intended to finish reading it a few months ago and recommend it to her younger brother, Peter, if it was any good, but with work and a pile of procrastination to work through, it was set aside. One of the most distinct memories Astor clung to from her childhood was of Peter getting caught almost nightly smuggling a book into his room and reading past his bedtime, flashlight in hand as he draped a blanket over him and the book. It would drive her absolutely crazy then, but she can't help but look back on it fondly.

Nostalgia washed over her. As children, they were incredibly close -- it was hard not to be with the circumstances given -- but as they grew older, they drifted apart. Their weekly chats turned into monthly check-ins, mainly to make sure the other was actually still alive, and phone calls became less and less frequent from there. It'd been a couple months since she last spoke with him. Would he even wanna hear from me? she thought. The question made her stomach go sour. What if he's busy? He's gotta be doing a lot, and --

"Hey, could you stop that?"

It was only then Astor became aware of her fingers' incessant drumming on the front of the book she was supposed to be reading, and she stopped, splaying her hand across its cover. She shot the middle-aged woman sitting next to her an apologetic grin as heat spread across her cheeks. "Sorry, my bad."

Giving Astor a strained attempt at a smile, the woman nodded, then buried her nose back into a bent-up copy of SkyMall magazine. Astor sucked in a deep breath of air as her eyes fell back down onto her book, willing her nerves to calm down to the best of her abilities with the release of a quiet sigh. Okay, okay. You're fine, she reminded herself.

With a newfound determination, she flipped open the book, resolving to distract her mind for the long plane ride ahead.
 
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[imga]http://forum.kinopoisk.ru/attachment.php?attachmentid=415090&d=1408230775[/imga] Claricia was sat at the back of her section with her earbuds in. She was on her way to New York for a fashion show, and she considered herself to be extremely lucky to have been chosen. After years of working her ass off to make it as a model, she was finally about to get her shot to prove what she was all about. She'd been given her chance, and she could feel it in her bones that this was going to change things for her. Whether it was for the better or for worse, she didn't know but things were certainly going to change.

Her hair was straight, and she'd checked her makeup about four times throughout the flight even though they were hours away from arriving just for something to keep her occupied. Truth be told, she was more nervous than she'd been on any previous job, probably because this was such a big deal for her. It was a chance for her family to have a better life outside of the small fishing town where she grew up. It wasn't exactly poverty-stricken but her family barely scraped by. She sent home money as often as she could, but she would have liked to have had more to give.

By day she was an aspiring model with her symmetrical facial features and high cheek bones, but by night she was a bartender and spent most of her time dodging the advances of sleazy and drunken men and women alike. And when she wasn't doing that she was clearing tables and pouring drinks in the stuffy club well into the early hours of the morning. As such, she usually slept until well after midday which meant that her internal body clock was forever running late because it had been years since she'd seen the sun rise. Or at least that had been the case before she'd gone to Shanghai. She'd won a vacation there online, much to her surprise and it had been an odd sort of holiday. Not what she'd pictured at all, but nice all the same. But she was grateful to be going back to a place she knew.

As she leant back in her seat, Claricia looked around at the other passengers for a moment as her music played gently in her ears. No one really stood out to her all that much, but she could imagine that they all had their own lives. Inside her head, she began playing out lives for them, like one man two seats away from her with his wife. Claricia imagined him to be the kind of man with a deep, dark secret... one that even his wife didn't know. You see, the man.... who was named Jerry inside her brain, every night before bed he would sneak down to the basement, lock the door, and dress up in his clown suit. His wife had no idea, too busy sleeping with her yoga instructor, and the pool boy.... and a drag queen in her 80s.

Claricia let out a small chuckle under her breath and looked away, caught up in her own little stories which were silly but at the very least had passed some time on the flight.
 
I went from tired of the same city streets to getting lost in Shanghai, eating frogs because I thought it was chicken! How was the trip? Oh, it was stellar, my favorite part might have been when I rolled over the hood of an oncoming car 'cause there aren't any traffic laws! Or maybe when I was spit on by three strangers in the same day! It was GREAT.

Yeah, she was that girl. The one that found herself going stir crazy, being coddled in the middle of mormon central, surrounded by nothing but hipster coffee shops, watered down blondes, news of an oncoming ten inches of snow, and an over sized temple at every corner. She knew every train schedule, every book store, what the specials were at several city outlets - everything but the people, though she only had herself to blame for that. As the later seasons threatened to drawl over the great lake and remind her of her self inflicted isolation, she decided to follow the highly romanticized concept of wanderlust that American movies always sold to the public, as if hopping on a plane at midnight would really be the moment you find your soul mate, or your dream job. Sun bought a random flight ticket off pure, neglected impulse, the destination of which just happened to be China, the one country that never had made it onto her bucket list. Still, she went, and immediately found the city smog and frog delicacies to be the manifestation of her mother's chiding words, those Asian countries just don't seem clean, let alone civil! Not that she understood what the bright side of things was, but it was a cultural change, one that had her wandering through marketplaces and pressing her nose to little translating booklets - still, a change. Sun couldn't understand the process of baby steps, or pacing, hence her former predicament, but this time she was going to try NYC, against her mother's strong wishes, to try something a little more familiar.

I'm twenty one now, I can go if I want to.

With her full lips puckered, she gave a responsive nod of approval to herself, ignoring the quirked brow of the man beside her. But then a coffee colored pout formed, and she sunk in her seat, wondering did I even want to?

"Er... Ma'am?"

I can't question that now, the ticket isn't refundable, I'm already on the plane, I already booked the hotel, I can't waste the money-

"Miss?"

What if mom's right? What if we crash? What if I just boarded my demise? What if the pilot has a heart attack? What if we fly over the Bermuda triangle? Where is the triangle? We'll never come back. I'll be lost in an alternate dimension. That's kind of cool. Does this plane feel flimsy? Is it supposed to shake? Oh, no, wait, that's my leg.

The flight had already ascended and having been so lost in thought. Sun hadn't the slightest clue, it wasn't until the attendant - who'd been called over by the man beside her - gave the blonde a little shake at the shoulders that Sonny finally came to, and seemingly for the first time that she'd sat down, breathed.

"Shit, you zoned out and never heard me call you name, I thought you were having a seizure or something." Said the male beside her with a scoff, readjusting his chin on his palm to gaze out of the window.

"Me?" Blinking, the blonde let her caramel eyes scan the aisle, realizing it had already filled up and letting the situation register. "God."

With a glass of water in hand and a complimentary bag of those disgusting little beige mistakes in shells, the attendant extended her hands, "Would you like something?"

"Uh... No... Thanks," She then sank further down in her seat, pressing her face into her hands and exhaling.
 
Roxy smirked as she boarded the plane. She followed the others as the boarded. She wasn't thrilled by being surrounded by so many people but she knew that it was the price she had to pay to get home. Not that she had much to go home to. But that was beside the point. She paused as she reached the doorway. She scanned the interior of the plan. She dismissed most of the people she saw as uninteresting and unthreatening. With the acception of the cop. She knew a law enforcement officer when she saw one.

She strood onto the plane confident that she had nothing to worry. Mostly it would be another boring trip. She wasnt looking forward to several hours with nothing to do. She wasnt to type to sit still unless she was forced to do so. Which unfortanately she would be on the flight. She made her way towards her seat. she had requested a seat near the door. Not because she wanted to help people if there was an emergancy. She couldnt have cared less about the others on the plan. She wanted to be near the door because she always sat near the door. She had to have a way out.

She tried to ignored the bad feeling she had. She had had the feeling sense the day she had bought the ticket home. She usually trusted her instinct. But this feeling hadnt made any sense. She had no bases for it. So she had brushed it off. Thousands of planes flew everyday. Airplane crashes were rare now days. There was no reason to think this flight would be any different. She put her seatbelt on and focused her attention to the screen in front of her. She doubted that the movie was worth watchig but it would give her something to do during the flight.
 
About halfway through the trip, the pilot motioned to his partner, pointing at a complicated-looking monitor. His partner's brow furrowed and they spoke in hushed, hurried voices before pulling a flight attendant into the cockpit and speaking with her. The flight attendant took out a rosary from her vest pocket and began uttering soft prayers, squeezing her eyes shut while one of the pilots began shouting into a radio. The plane began to shake, gently at first, and the first pilot picked up the intercom with a trembling hand.

"Attention, passengers, this is your pilot speaking. We are experiencing a bit of turbulence, so please fasten your seatbelts and put your trays in their upright and locked position. I apologize for the incon--"

The plane, which had been rocking slowly now shook with such force that a flight attendant serving drinks to a passenger was thrown forward, hitting the ground with a bone-crunching noise. The lights flickered on and off and there was a flash of lightening and a roar of thunder that sounded like an animal growling outside the little plane. Passengers and attendants alike began to panic, screaming and shouting as the pilots lost control, the plane tossing and turning at the mercy of whatever was outside. It seemed an eternity but may have only been a few minutes before a force hit the plane on its left side, creating a large hole which began sucking out the pressurized air. There was no time to react to anything before the plane ripped in half, plummeting out of the air and down below, taking all souls along with it.

The plane crashed onto the shore of an island covered with lush jungle and hidden secrets. The waves lapped onto the shore, too small to quench the passive flames coming from the half of the plane, but large enough to wash away some shrapnel and luggage. For a moment, all was still on the island, as if nothing had happened, and then the survivors of the crash began to awake from their daze or unconsciousness and then the bleached-white shore came alive with wails and shouts and the smell of death.
 
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Alex was in another world, he had started writing a long time ago and never stopped. In this world Alex was not in a plane, he was in his home in Scotland, with nothing but dark green landscape outside and no people to bother him. When the hole in the plane appeared , Alex did not register anything but frustration, believing he had simply left the window open and that the wind was picking up. He was too engulfed in his writing to remove himself from his seat to go and close this ajar window. Had he breathed normally he would have noticed how difficult it would be to do so, Alex did not breath normally. His anxiety often caused him to take deep breaths and hold them in for long periods of time, as it made him feel like he was harder to notice. When the plane ripped in two he became upset, damn winter, he thought, the wind is especially strong this year.

The collision, however, he felt that. As he awoke on the beach to the sound of screams he became very angry. Not towards the pilots or the plane, but more so with himself.

"I just had to fly to the lecture, I couldn't have face timed it." He said to himself in a mocking tone.
"Oh no, a couple of people are looking at me, I suppose I had better panic." He continued "oh, but a plane crash, no, no, I'm fine. Well, it only makes sense"

He turned to see the ocean, an action he immediately followed with screaming. "Oh, COME ON!" He screeched as he saw the notebook he was writing in float farther out into the sea and then sink beneath the waves.

He laid his head back down onto the beach, placing his hands over his face and then dragging them down. The people around him continued to run around flailing and screaming.
 
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Bernadette awoke with sand in her mouth and a painful, throbbing headache. She opened her eyes, squinting in the hot sunlight, unsure of where she was or what had happened. She saw people running all around her, bodies lying amongst open suitcases and pieces of airplane. Her breathing quickened and she felt her heart race as memories of the crash flashed by her. She sat up and looked herself over. One of her flats had fallen off or been stolen, and there was a tear in her navy blue sweater, letting the sun shine on her white undershirt. With a gasp of air Bernadette rose to her feet and brushed the seat of her dark blue jeans, taking off her remaining flat and throwing it toward the crashing waves. She didn't feel too badly beat up, despite her tremendous headache and a shallow-enough cut on her forearm. Hiking up her sweater sleeves and clapping the sand from her hands, Bernadette scanned the chaotic shore and fell into the mindset of nurse.

Being a volunteer EMT, Bernadette had seen the worst of the worst in her ambulances. She was used to seeing blood and guts, and this was no different. She was trained for this, and she knew it was her duty to help whoever she could. Strands of brunette hair fell out of their barrettes and into her eyes, and she took out the barrettes and pins that held her short bob in its perfect place, shaking it out and pinning it back up hurriedly, just enough so it wouldn't get in her way. And then she was off, sprinting along the shore checking on people and using whatever she could find, whether it be a shirt from an open suitcase or tape from a gym bag to patch people up enough that she could leave them for the time being.

She wasn't thinking anymore, she was just doing. It took everything she had, all of her focus and energy, to stop bleeding arteries and veins and apply pressure to amputated limbs. Sweat fell down her face in little beads and she wiped it away carelessly, removing her stuffy sweater and wrapping it around her waist. Everything was going fine until she came across an unconscious man bleeding out from a gash on his stomach, with half of a leg missing. She cursed silently and knelt down, putting her hands around the bleeding leg and putting pressure, blood gushing over her hands. Nothing she did could help, not alone.

"I need some help over here!" she screamed, looking around for an able body. She watched the man struggling for breath, his face growing more and more pale. "Please hurry!"
 
Archaeo was always a bit anxious when he flew. Sure, math and science could be sound evidence to prove that people could make things that make them fly. But there was always human error and the chaos theory. If anything can go wrong, it will. If humans were meant to fly, they'd have wings. And if he was meant to be awake throughout this flight, he wouldn't have taken two of his Remeron and shut the world away.

There was a violent shake and the air pressure suddenly dropped, causing him to wake up gasping for breath. Wind was ripping through the cabin, and while that was loud enough, screams of terror reverberated through the thin air. He fixed a white knuckle grip on his arm rests and braced for impact. They slammed into something, and he blacked out. The first thing he felt was a passive heat radiating from his arm. It grew into a more stinging sensation and his eyes flickered open slowly. He blinked at the blurry world around him and slowly moved to get his glasses out of the breast pocket of his jacket. He felt a stronger pain in his arm, and looked at it carefully once he had his glasses on. His jacket and dress shirt were torn near his shoulder, from what, he didn't know.

His gaze flicked about the cabin next, taking note of the damage. He tried not to focus on the broken bodies strewn haphazardly across the seats and aisles. With a slightly shaking hand, the rattled man unclasped his seatbelt and carefully rose to his feet. He felt lightheaded, and had to remind himself to breathe. He opened up the overhead storage compartment and pulled out his bag. With his only possessions in hand, he hurried out of the decimated aircraft and took in the death and chaos that had spread out across the white sands.

A cry for help caught his attention, and he saw a woman attempting to save a dying man. He hurried over, his sharp gaze analyzing the carnage. He wouldn't make it for more than five minutes. "What do you need me to do?" His voice was a bit rough, the shock still not out of his system yet.
 
Is that the ceiling? Or the floor?

Brown orbs fixated on whatever loomed above her, Sonny laid limp, jaw clenched, the scent of iron and smoke sharp in her nostrils. Ironically, her glasses were in place. The only thing she heard was her own heart drumming in her ears. Her long fingers curled reflexively as she pressed her hand to what she thought would be her chair arm, but it appeared she'd tumbled right out of it and was in a completely different portion of the plane, whatever she'd grasped was hot to the touch. Pressing her hands cautiously behind her, she pushed herself up, her forearms trembling weakly whilst trying to support her body; she was in one of the aisles, facing the side of the plane that was entirely shredded, revealing... sand, though it was dramatically blurred by a nearly tangible smog filling the plane.

With a wheeze and a cough, she pushed herself up, forced to shift her weight onto one leg as blood seeped through her right thigh, a widespread stain discoloring the upper half of her pant leg. "Aw, hell," She murmured rather casually, though her nerves were on edge, her natural reaction was eerily casual. She licked her lips, the tip of her tongue the shade of crimson which had also stained the side of her forehead down to her jawline, brightly woven in her ashy blonde locks. Running her now bloodied palm along her thigh, she found the expected tear in her jeggings, followed by flesh and, finally, a protruding slab of glass. Wincing, she curled her fingers around the piece, gave it a few tugs to either side and proceeded to slide it out from within her skin, breathing heavily and continuing to cough as she tossed it to the floor. Sun wasn't bothered too much by her own blood, but managed a sound of disgust.

"Hel-lo?" She coughed aloud, placing her mouth to her arm as she took subtle steps out of the wreckage, peering around though she wouldn't have been able to tell if someone was in there with her. She tried to steady herself against the exterior as she took her first step onto sand and gasped, the warped metals burned her fingers of which she clutched to her chest, a little unsteady in her attempt to back away from the exterior.

OH COME ON!

"Holy-" Her head shot to the side, an ocean littered with sinking belongings revealed to her, and a man before it was screaming, which made her chest tighten with anxiety. With the first word she'd heard in several minutes came the slow registration of her surroundings, the slightly relieving breeze fanning her cheek cold and wet, the distant tide rolling across the ocean and expanding over darkened sands, the crackle of flames from behind her which let the severity of her prior position sink in.

There was still a heavy, nearly ominous silence in the air, until the wreckage behind her erupted from the back, "Nonononononnono-" She forced herself to burst forward towards the stranger, dropping to her knees at one point with her arms over her head as slabs of flaming metal propelled through the distant air along with sparks, glass, valuables, and probably limbs, "Shitshitshit there goes my LAPTOP!"
 
Bernadette looked up from her patient to see a man, older and shaken, standing behind her. For little more than a moment her gaze glossed over and she played out a formal greeting in her mind. It would be at a large party, and this man would be holding a glass of champagne, and perhaps wrapping a hand around a young brunette's waist as Bernadette offered him her hand and remarked on his dapper-looking suit. But he was just an ordinary man, a stranger, really, with tears in his jacket and a worried look about him. She shook herself back into reality and cleared her throat.

She had no time nor thought to look him over or even ask his name, but looked at the face of the dying man, who was watching her with short, painful breaths. Biting her lip Bernadette looked at the eternal stream of red liquid which had stained the man's shirt, the sand around him and Bernadette's hands. She looked at the stranger again.

"Come here and hold his leg, just above where the other half was torn off. Squeeze with all your might and don't let go. Can you do that?"
 
Archaeo nodded and swiftly kneeled down beside the man, taking hold of his leg and trying his hardest to slow the bleeding. He heard the subtle sound of ignition, and hardly had the time to utter a curse before the fuel silage blew. His grip tightened on the man's leg, bracing for any shrapnel that may hit them. After a beat, he looked over to the woman and glanced at the man. Four minutes. He was losing too much blood.

He looked up, glancing around for any sort of real help. He didn't hear any emergency sirens in the distance. He didn't see anyone coming rushing from the tropical trees. He looked back to the man, his expression a mixture of doubt and regret. He knew that there wasn't going to be any help coming. At least, not in time for this man. He could see the darkness beginning to creep up in the other man's gaze. It looked like he knew it, too. There wasn't anything they could do. They were lacking in blood transfusions, and medical supplies in general. He had a little first aide kit in his suitcase, but that wasn't enough to save this man's life.

The black smoke pouring from the burning husk of the plane would maybe draw some attention from satellite, but the chances were low. The radio in the plane might be operational. He glanced at what used to be the nose of the plane. The mangled metal was not helping in his hopes. They were in the middle of the ocean, and that put cell service out of the question. He looked back to the man, three minutes. There were other people who needed help. He looked to the younger woman with blood on her hands. It was her call.
 
Bernadette, in the back of her mind, was grateful that the stranger took the dying man's leg. She turned her attention to his stomach. Pieces of shrapnel were visible, glistening against the red blood. She began picking out pieces, digging her hand into the open wound. "A piece of the plane's torn a gash in one of his organs," she said to no one in particular, grunting with effort as she searched to find the source of the bleeding. The man gagged, pain searing across his face for a minute as she tried blindly to find something, anything, before what little life was left was gone, and he lay still. After a moment Bernadette realized what had happened and she watched his face, silent, her heat in her throat.

"I've killed him," she whispered, looking down at her hands. "He...he had a chance and I killed him."

She turned her gaze to the stranger, her face paling. She blinked away tears and pursed her lips, composing herself. "I apologize, sir, I didn't mean to involve you in this. Did you know this man?"
 
Feeling, always, at more ease when she had her headphones on and music in her ears, as soon as the plane began the smallest of jostles, people began to get jittery, and Chloe-Jane's thick personal speakers went right on her head after that and the volume up enough to drown them out. She ought to be choosing a new mix for her after-work hours classes next week anyway. Marking on her phone the songs she liked with "favorites" stars, she ignored the increasing turbulence- she'd been in worse and flying had never scared her even when things started getting like this. Also ignored were the voices of the people and the speakers, but the little light that said to put your seatbelt on made her glance up. Finished with her food anyway, she put her tray up and bent down to place her tin under her seat, just as the plane thrust hard, and she banged her head agianst the chair in front of her, pushing a headphone off her ear.

The first thing she heard were screams, only cut short but the deafening wind being sucked through a sudden hole in the plane. Her hair whipped around her face, preventing her from seeing properly as suddenly the plane screamed under it's pressure and force and split it self right through the middle. The piece she was in was thrown, and her seat row detached from the floor.

For a moment, all she could hear was her breathing, crisp and slow and long. Under her ear, Vega4 sang Life is Beautiful in muffled cheery tones around the desperate screams echoing quietly from the frantic woman beside her and the bellowing howls of the man next to her- his face dripping soft, warm droplets of blood onto Chloe-Jane's cheek. That sick falling feeling accompanied the view her eyes took in but her head could not reconcile. She was still strapped in to her seat, whole, while dark skies and horizon spun around her, sometimes the other end of the plane, falling luggage, and trash, and other thing flashing into view where she sat.

Survival instincts kicked in like a slap to the face and her hands, quick and shaky, thrust down onto her seatbelt and she pulled and yanked and jerked, scared and grunting it until she unsnapped herself and pushed off the chair. She did not see her seatmates look at her as if she abandoned them, she did not see anything because she propelled herself into a tree and hit her head.

Acrid smells and burning lungs awoke Chloe-Jane. She opened her eyes painfully, feeling her whole body ache. Smoke blew over her in gusts and retreated much the same way from the burning parts of the plane. Though her vision was blury, her sense of taste was not- it tasted like metal. She spat and found not only her mouth full of blood, but the ground where her head was lying. Her neck twinged painfully as she lifted herself and she grapped it, sniffing, noticing that there was both dried and wet blood coming from her nose. She wiped a futile wrist across her nose and turned to sit- that hurt less, but her head swam, and she felt sick. Spitting again, she now noticed what she heard. The sounds of mayhem and panic. She stood as quickly as she could, using the tree beside her as a brace and moved toward the sound of other people- there was a beach... a beach beyond the trees. She took a few steps, stumbling on heavy feet, but burst from the brush to see exactly the calamaty that had struck. Looking around made her head float and she got dizzy, grabbing it and feeling the long gash along her hairline and the crispy scab it was trying to form. A clear shot of pain zinged her and she flinched, groaning. It subsided into a dull throb and she opened her eyes painfully, trying to find something, just one thing to focus on.

Some spashing in the water caught her attention. Was that someone drowning? She stood up, full attention to try and get a better view, and sure enough, there was someone out there, barely keeping their head above water and looking more than a little paniced. Chloe-Jane threw herself forward, and nearly fell flat, but propeled herself back up on her hands and feet and jumped into the water. It was cold. Her head hurt. She was dizzy. Quickly her own head burst back up above water and she shouted,

"Hey! HEY!" She shouted. They didn't seem to hear so she got out to them- the drop off was not that far from the shore, or at least a drop off that was deeper than she was tall. She grabbed the woman, trying to pull her back toward shore, but the woman fought her off. Unusual, seeing as drowning victims were known to often drown weak rescuers in their panic to find soemthing to put underneath them and cling to. She tried again and she was batted away,

"Let GO!" The woman shouted, "My son! I have to get Carson! He can't swim!"

"Where is he?"

"He went under! I have to get him!" And she threw her head underwater again. Chloe-Jane followed her example, but it was too dark to see anything. In fact, it was so dark, Chloe-Jane couldn't even fathom how deep it was. Could be less than 15 feet. Could be more than 50. One thing she knew, though, was if he went under and they didn't see him now, he was staying under.

"CARSON!" The woman threw her head out of the water, shouting, crying. Chloe-Jane tried touching her, but her hand was slapped away. She tried again, same result. She swam back a bit.

"Maybe he's on the beach already!" She shouted at the woman.

"I told you, he can't swim!"

"Maybe someone else already saved him!"

"No! I saw him here! NO one else came! No one came to help!" The woman was still frantic, but Chloe-Jane could see the sadness and the fatigue wearing on her.

"Let's go check the beac-"

"CARSON!" Nothing else she could do. The woman slapped and jerked at her, and Chloe-Jane felt each blow and she let go without meaning to but grabbed the woman's clothes again and began pulling her ashore through sheer force of will. THe woman wailed as if her arm was being rent from her body; she screamed and called after her son with no response, and swung her arms, kicking her legs at Chloe-Jane, never giving up, and it hurt, and Chloe-Jane's head hurt and her chest hurt and her legs and her cut and her neck, and the water was cold and salty and her eyes burned and her throat burned and she grew frusterated and sniffed, listening to the woman's pain, tears welling in her own eyes. She hoped the sea water hid them as she drug the woman up on to shore and could do nothing but hold her with what strength remained to keep her from drowning herself out in the ocean with her child.
 
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Roxy ignored the people around her. She had no interestin them. They were just annoyances she had to deal with for the next few hours. She wished she had though to bring her headphones so she could really block everyone out. While she could rent a pair she had desire to use headphones that someone else had used.

The first half of the flight was uneventful. She had just started to relax when the plan started to shake. She frowned hoping that it wad just a storm or turbulence and wouldn't last long. But instead of easing of the shaking got worse and a hole opened in the side of the plane. Things were about to go to hell. She followed the emergency instructions. She stayed calm while everyone around her panicked.

She woke up trapped. Which pissed ger off. She struggled to move but despite her small size she couldn't escspe. After attempting to free herself for what seemed like hours, which was more likely just minutes she wasn't the most patient person around, she did the one thing she hated to do she started yelling for help. "HELP! I'M TRAPPED!"
 
The woman was tired, moreso than Chloe-Jane, but she was getting strength from somewhere. More than once she threw out her arms to burst free of her restrainer, and tried to get back into the water- her legs noodling underneath her visibly. Chloe-Jane would again catch her, more tired than before, and dragged her back further and further each time until they were basically in the trees again. Chloe-Jane was so tired- she must have lost a lot of blood and this exhertion was NOT doing her any favors, but if she let go, she knew what the woman would do. It should have had nothing to do with her, but she couldn't let it happen. It felt like it'd be on her shoulders too if she turned the woman loose and left her to her own will.

When she got back into the trees though, she heard banging. Behind the treeline and the brush the sounds of the beach became muffled more easily, and from the beach the sounds from the jungle were swallowed up. Now the sound of a voice, muffled as it was, drifted to her. Chloe-Jane, holding fast, looked around, her eyes sqinted, trying to find the origin. There was a peice of plane not too terribly far from where she'd woken up and she was guessing that was it. Dragging the woman along with purpose, even when she stumbled on her fatigued legs, Chloe-Jane moved to the piece.

"Hello! Is anyone in there? Can you hear me?" She shouted, and banged on the metal, trying to see if this was the place somene had called for help.
 
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