The man next to me broke off my thought by moaning, making me turn back to him. His face wasn’t as lax as it’d been on the plane. Lines of pain were etched at the corners of his eyes and mouth that not even the deepest of wrinkle could hide. Was I responsible for that?
Now that I could see him in plain light, I realised he wasn’t as old as I’d thought. I’ve never been good at guessing people’s ages but I’d put him at somewhere around sixty. He had the right suit and sleek haircut to be a businessman. A nice look but not a practical one under the circumstances. Not that I had much room to talk, seeing as I was so cold in my T-shirt and jeans. Still, it had to be bad for him too. The fact he had so little meat on his bones also didn’t help.
While dragging him all the way here may have saved him from smoke inhalation and possibly an explosion, no one would congratulate me if he died from hypothermia as a result. Not that I was expecting any form of congratulations in the first place, but still…
I remembered seeing a blanket on the floor next to the jump seats. I tilted my head back and sighed. The only way I was going to get it was by going back in. My leg was in such bad shape, the throbbing near constant now, that I wasn’t sure if I could stand on it again, much less walk. But one look at the silent forest around us and at the wounded man lying unconscious next to me sealed the deal. Wounded or not, I was the only one who could do the job. Not counting on others to do your job was something my family had pushed onto me from an early age. Who knew it would come in handy at a time like this?
Planting both my palms down and forcing my good leg to fold beneath me, I pushed myself upright with a scream. Tears of pain ran down my cheeks as I ambled forward, one shaky step at a time. Twenty steps, twenty little steps. That was all the walking I needed to do… So close and yet so far away.
I was panting, sweating and shivering by the time I finished heaving myself back inside the metallic tube. I moved past the loos to aim straight for the rear galley. Wasn’t that also where the staff kept their food and the rest of their stuff? I could have done with a warm coffee and a sandwich right then. And a heavy dose of painkillers.
After I found the blanket I’d seen earlier, I kept looking for more. While there was nothing useful near the folding-seats, the other side of the plane had a dozen light grey storage containers affixed to the back wall, secured with red safety latches. This had to be where the crew had stored some of the equipment. I was thankful that nothing on them had moved during the turbulences and subsequent crash. Unlike, well… everything else.
Since I had no idea what was stored where, I just opened the first container I could reach. Inside, I found a stock of drinks, two dozen plastic cups, a pile of blue and yellow kid’s toys, a pretty full trash bin and some of the food-boxes we’d been served on the flight. Since the latter were unopened, I dug right into the food, ready to wolf down anything I could get my hands on.
Today’s lunch had been a small portion of too-dry salmon with a weird-looking dill sauce and two baked potatoes. It tasted as bad as it had in the air, but I didn’t mind half as much now. I needed all the energy I could get.
In the next container, I found spare blankets, blue with a couple of yellow lines in the corner. I took a couple out, placing them in a pile next to a bottle of water I’d taken out of the first locker. Since I had nothing to carry everything in, I unfolded one of the blankets and bundled everything into it. That accomplished, I tied the corners together into a makeshift sack. While it was heavy, the vital contents inside made it well worth the weight. I hauled my treasure trove back behind me.
The way out was just as excruciating as the way in, if not more so. Those last twenty steps from wrecked plane to unconscious passenger used what little energy the food had given me. I crumbled next to my insensate companion, laying down on my back and becoming a puddle of aching limbs. My arms and legs throbbed as they began to calm themselves down, my breathing slowing down as well. My body was sending me so many conflicting signals, I couldn’t make sense of them all. Pain, cold, fatigue, warmth, sweating… If there was one word that would sum them up it would be “Enough!” I so needed to rest. I couldn’t remember a time that I’d ever felt this weak.
In the quiet of the deserted forest, I could still hear the man’s ragged breathing, a sure sign that he was alive. Nothing else disturbed the quiet. The daylight had lessened in the last hour, telling me that dusk wasn’t too far away. Neither of us were ready for the night chill. My companion needed help and once again, there was no one else to provide it but me. Taking in a deep breath through my nose, I dug into my last reserves of strength to sit back up.
Upon closer inspection, I could see the man was shivering with each exhale. One of his hands had moved up, cradling his middle. Pressing the water bottle to his lips, I managed to make him swallow a few gulps, which was a relief in itself. Next, I reached for the bag of blankets with a grunt of pain before untying the bundle. I used the three blankets inside it to cover him up, saving the last one for myself.
I lay back down on the soft wet ground, totally spent. I’d done all I could for today. As I sunk back into oblivion, I hoped the blankets would be enough to keep him—and me—alive until help got here.
5. FIRST IMPRESSIONS
The cold woke me up. Or was it the chitter? I’d been vibrating all night like a rogue smartphone. Did I leave a window open?
Dampness on my back registered about a second later. And then the pain. A splitting headache that made me wonder how much I’d had to drink the night before.
I groaned as I sat up, pushing the blankets aside. I wondered why the smell of smoke was so tight in my bedroom; I’d always hated the smell of fags. I never let anyone partake of that nasty habit in my room, no matter how much liquor I’d imbibed.
My fingers curled around a rougher blanket than I anticipated. My fingers came away wet. The hell? I thought, the first clear thought that punched through my brain fog.
I forced my eyes open, settling on a green canopy that allowed what seemed to be late-afternoon sunlight to shine through. I was glad that the sun had begun to set. I didn’t think I could have handled the harsh spikes of a full-blown ball of light. This hangover was just too much.
As I let my gaze fall, my eye settled on a great smashed tube of metal. It seemed familiar somehow. That’s when a flood of memories opened up, making my headache worse. My run through the airport in Geneva. The plane repeatedly hit by lightning in mid-flight. The harrowing descent towards the bottom in the dark. It all came back to me in a rush.
I groaned, realising that yes, this day could get worse after all. For there it lay, the broken tail-end section of the plane I’d been on. Cabin torn and gaping near the back, resting at an odd angle amidst the foliage and rain-soaked dirt. It hadn’t been a dream. The nightmare I’d had was as real as the wreckage I saw before me.
It hurt to stand back up, and a wave of nausea hit me when I got back to my feet. I waited it out before taking a couple of shaky steps towards the mess of metal and plastic that used to be my flight to Sweden. Where was the other end of it? Or the other passengers? Or the rescue?
I looked about, working my way around the broken tail, but finding nothing except sparse trees and more debris. It didn’t make any sense. Someone else had to be here. I didn’t remember making it out of the plane and lying down. Or getting the blankets.
“Hullo?” I called out, loud as I could. It ended in a cough, making me realise my throat was sore and parched. I swallowed and tried again with, “Is anybody here?” More coughing. This time, it continued until it became full-on hacking.