[firebreathingfishies]

2 - Blind Panic

Something is digging in my back and it bloody hurts, but my eyelids are refusing to co-operate. I wonder if I fell asleep on the floor again. It certainly feels like it. I feel groggy and my head is throbbing, the first signs of an unforgiving hangover. I try to remember where I’d been last night, still with my eyes shut. My mind is blank. I don’t think I even went out. So did I stay in and drink on my own? Sounds like me.

I roll onto my side and the pain in my back goes away, but a new pain starts in the arm I’m lying on. Now this really freaking hurts. I cry out and my eyes snap open. I jerk upright, teetering vertically for a moment before starting to fall back. I put my hands behind me to prevent the fall, but something cuts into my palms. Christ it hurts! I look down to see what the hell it is, and see that I have been lying on shards of metal and glass. There is red all around me. It dawns on me that it’s my blood.

‘What the hell did I do last night…’ I mumbled, even though the logical part of my brain has already established that I’m not anywhere near my house. Hell, I’m not even near a hotel. I look up, narrowing my eyes at the blinding sunlight that flooded over me. The green canopy above waves gently in the breeze. Did I fall asleep in a garden?

No, definitely not. Tall palms surround me on all sides. I notice the heat for the first time and let out a gasp as the memory of the crash hits me. I almost fall back into the glass again, but I catch myself. The plane crashed. It actually crashed. I can’t believe it. To top off one hell of a crap fortnight, my plane crashes. How’s that for a kick in the teeth? The world springs yet another soul-destroying event on me. Just when I, for once, was actually looking forward to getting home.

I manage to get to my feet with only a few more cuts, and realise that I’m pretty much covered in blood. I probably look like Carrie. I notice a thick piece of glass embedded in my forearm and wince. For God’s sake. I hate this kind of stuff. I pluck it out and toss it aside, not liking the silence at which it lands. I turn to see, and my mouth drops open.

Suddenly, blaming the world for all my troubles and looking like Carrie seems irrelevant. I stumble forward, the glass crunching beneath my feet and I drop to my knees beside the blue plane seat that lies on the ground. Chuck is still strapped in his seat, his mask still on his face. I pull it off him, stricken by the slick blood covering it. He isn’t moving.

‘Chuck?’ I ask, voice trembling. ‘Can you hear me? Chuck!’

Chuck doesn’t respond. Every kind of emergency training I’ve ever taken part in (mostly at school) abandons me and I stare helplessly at him. I can’t even check his pulse. God I only wanted to go home. Why did this have to happen? I only wanted to go home!

Foliage cracks behind me and I look around, eyes wide. A man in a black suit rushes by, batting stray twigs and branches from his face. Frozen, I watch him pass. I know I should call out to him for help, but I can’t. I just stare, dumbfounded. When I finally gather myself, he’s gone. I turn back to Chuck.

‘Chuck, wake up,’ I plead, knowing it’s not going to help. ‘Please wake up!’

He doesn’t move. I reach down to feel his pulse and my fingers slide on his skin. I feel something squidgy there and I recoil. What the hell is that? I lean over him and peer at his neck. My stomach heaves at the sight of the thick gash on his neck. If I’d eaten, I probably would have thrown up on him. Instead my hands shoot to my mouth. I end up smearing his blood and my own blood on my cheeks and chin. I don’t care. He’s dead. My God… This is the first time I’ve seen a dead body and I have no idea how to react. Oh God… Holy crap…

‘S**t!’ I scream as Chuck suddenly grabs my arm.

Those green eyes are staring at me, almost bulging out of their sockets. In my panic, I pull out of his grip and scramble backwards. He opens his mouth and tries to say something, but all that comes out is a gurgle. Blood trickles from his bottom lip.

By now, terror has engulfed me. Blind panic takes over and I scramble to my feet and run. I have no idea why I’m running, but my legs won’t stop. I sob hysterically, every part of me aching and the logical part of my brain demanding to know why I’m running away from the man. He needs help. I don’t care. I can’t act on any of the thoughts that run through my head. All I can do is run, so I do.

I burst out of the trees and fall on my face. I scream out in horror. Horror at what happened, at the pain racking through me, the sight of Chuck lying on the ground, the fact I left him behind. I push myself up on my hands, sobbing at the stinging all over me. The sand has embedded itself in my wounds. I’ve left bloody smears on the ground. Around me, more people are screaming. The air is heavy and it’s hard to breathe. I look up.

The wing of the plane is pointing up at the sky, black smoke billowing past it on both sides. The belly of the plane has spilt its guts all over the beach. Debris litters the ground, along with various screaming and bloody people like myself. Past this chaotic scene, the sea is lapping the shore serenely. I stare, vacantly. I feel like all the air has been sucked out of me.

I only want to go home.