(Great, we can start.)
The plane lay on its side, mangled and twisted on the rocky lip of the mountainside where it had come to rest. It balanced precariously on a thin shelf of earth that seemed to defy gravity by stretching too far over the cavernous valley below. The gaping hole that had been the right side of the cabin now opened toward the sky, allowing the early afternoon sun to beat down upon the exposed interior. Perched as it was, the wreckage gave the appearance of a sacrificial offering, held out from the arms of the mountain.
It was quiet now. The creaking and groaning of the framework had settled, replaced by the eerie stillness of tension, as if the plane, aware of its position, was somehow holding its breath. Inside the cabin, Alexei groaned, awareness returning to her in bits and pieces, like a nightmare recalled from the safety of dawn. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking several times to focus her vision on the confusing jumble of images that swam before her at eye level. Her carry-on bag, part of a seat cushion, broken glass, pieces of metal--the crash! She was alive. She twisted frantically, ignoring the pain that shot through her with every movement, desperate to find another body amid the debris. There was no sign, not even a sound to let her know there was anyone but her.
She forced herself to breathe deeply, trying to calm the paralyzing fear that was hovering. Panic was not an option; hysteria, while tempting, was energy wasted. Mentally, she went through her "repertoire" as she called it, the standard physician's checklist: no broken bones, no paralysis, no significant loss of feeling although there was some definite numbness in her left leg, several scrapes and scratches, endless bruises, probably a concussion. Not too bad for a plane crash survivor, she concluded. She was alive. It was enough. She looked around, assessing the situation, and realized that she was lying face down upon the emergency exit door. Rather, what used to be the door. In the tilted cabin, it now appeared to serve as the floor, and Alexei was wedged against it, held nearly immobile by the loose debris that surrounded her. Her seat had broken free upon impact, its warped frame now clinging to her body with the desperation of a small child. Lucidity continued to return slowly as she maneuvered herself carefully around the jagged pieces of structural metal, inching her way closer to freedom. It was a tedious process, but she didn't have the luxury of waiting for rescue--she had to find the cockpit.
She succeeded in liberating her left arm and used it to unlock the seat belt that had kept her prisoner. She sat up gingerly, rubbing stiff muscles and joints, getting her first unobstructed view of the remains of the aircraft. She looked toward the cockpit, her right arm grasping the armrest to steady herself when the sudden movement made her dizzy. Alexei forced herself to stand, ignoring the throbbing ache in her leg, and began to make her way toward the front of the plane. It was awkward with the plane lying sideways. She crawled and stepped as carefully as she could over broken seats, strips of jagged metal, and shattered windows, pulling herself forward with agonizing deliberation. There had been no sound at all from the cockpit since she regained consciousness, and she prayed that the pilots were still alive. She reached for the door and with shaking hands, pulled it open.
Topic: Desideratum (Read 1967 times)