And Then.
I watched the planes fly overhead. Where were they taking the people? I knew many friends that had received their notification to go to the various aerodromes. Then they'd disappeared. As I watched a huge craft rumble through the sky, I wondered if any of my friends were aboard.
The day was bright but cold. I'd left my wife and three daughters behind in the cottage we'd rented for the week. It smelt musty, old, the scent of stale smoke in the stonework. I loved it. We'd make a fire that night. The farmer had left us plenty of wood. My wife and daughters stayed behind to make food and watch a film and generally get settled in. I wished one of them had come with me but I stepped out alone. My small haversack bumping against my back as I'd headed down the stone-flanked lane. Waving goodbye, I breathed in the fresh mountain air.
Before too long the weather changed. The air gathered in mist and then fog. As I dropped down into the valley, I could hardly see my hands as I plunged them into the fog, wanting to swish it all away and see again. The air felt colder with the sun's warmth blanketed tight.
What was I to do? At least I wasn't up on a mountaintop traversing an arête. As I thought this, I was suddenly aware of a sound gathering volume, seemingly coming closer. Where and what was it? This sound seemed to shake the very earth I stood on. It became deafening. I imagined a huge giant stomping over the land - but I could see nothing. My curiosity and mild fear became utter dread as the noise shook my brain. Whatever it was it was getting a whole lot closer. It was coming from the sky. Was it a plane? There were no flight paths over where we were, maybe a military plane? The sound seemed to tear the very fabric of the fog and increased its volume relentlessly. It felt like the end of the world. In an intuitive act I threw myself to the ground landing on my haversack. The lane was gritty with small stones. I rolled onto my front holding my ears. And then. Whatever it was, it must have dived and ploughed straight into a wood. I could hear the sounds of trees being ripped apart, unearthed. And then. Nothing. Utter silence for the briefest of moments.
Getting up on my feet I tried desperately to see what had happened. I heard cries penetrating the cloth-like air. Some shrieks. I walked like a blind man, holding my hands before me and soon I was pitched forwards as I hit a low wall. What was I thinking? What did I expect to be able to do? I had no phone with me. The only thing that connected me to the world had been the path I was on. I should have stayed on that and... Curiously, it felt like the whole area was oblivious to what I had heard. Instinct drove me on. Feeling the mossy top of the wall I managed to straddle it and then lift my back leg over. The air smelt of smoke and fuel which added to its density. There were more cries and moans in the distance. Except for me there was no distance. Damn that fog! The first sense of that devastating reality hit me - almost literally. A part of the plane wreckage tripped me up and I fell towards the ground. Flapping my hands, I managed to control my descent to an extent. In the distance I could hear the wailing of sirens.
With some difficulty I once again got to my feet and I had the sense that the fog was being dispersed and driven out by the smoke coming from the crashed plane. There were more guttural cries of pain as I made tiny steps over the uneven ground. And then. Bang! I was out cold.
I came round slowly, piecing together fragmented thoughts. I felt trapped. Panicking, I wondered if I was paralysed. I couldn't feel my legs, or my arms. The air in front of my eyes was black. I opened and shut my eyelids in rapid succession but nothing changed. How long had I been like that, staring into nothing, unable to move. In the end I let my struggle subside and drifted into an unsettling sleep.
In this sleep I could once again move freely. I was in a town, the houses were be-jewelled: rubies and sapphires, diamonds and amethysts shone in their prim brickwork. A river wound its way between two rows of thatched-rooved cottages. But there was no-one about. Looking in through windows I only saw empty rooms. It was as if the houses were waiting to be filled. Walking down what I took to be the high street I felt both lonely and invigorated. Although it felt odd, I was also content being there. And then.
‘Name?’
I was back in my dark, paralysed state.
‘Name?’
‘Jim,’ I answer innocently.
‘Surname?’
I had to think a moment, ‘Holden,’ I say.
‘James Holden,’ a voice says but not to me.
‘No record,’ answers another voice.
‘Lost in the wreckage?’
‘No record at all.’
I could feel some tension.
‘He was in the wreckage?’
‘Yes.’
‘The capsule has been found?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well we'll see. It's going to be difficult explaining this. Either he should or shouldn't have been on the plane. I think it's best if we say nothing and then get him on the next flight.’
‘Very well.’
‘Well what do you think? Do you agree?’
‘He must have been on the plane. The fog was thick. God only knows why it was flying so low.’
‘Perhaps it mistook the fog for smoke,’ the voice jokes.
‘Shall I make preparations?’
‘Yes, indeed. If we've made a mistake there'll be no end to it. Might even lose our jobs. Would you want that?’
‘Of course not. I understand. I'll do what's necessary. Just wish I could find some record.’
‘No-one checks, why would they? Too late.’
‘One question,’ the second voice says, ‘what happens to the dead bodies?’
And then.
I felt a piercing of the skin on my arm - I think. That might sound odd but it was hard to tell. It was hard to tell because I was so disorientated. I felt like I was in a packet of sticky glue. Or I had been swathed in bandages soaked in glue. Either way, the sensations of my body were muffled. I had a sense of where my head was and that was about it. I could have been a body assembled by Picasso.
Next thing I was aware of was the sensation of movement. Heavy movement. I didn't feel light - not at all. All the time I was remembering the sound of the plane splitting the coarse blanket of fog and then the animalistic cries of pain. The desperate calls for help. The town my mind had transported itself to and then the dislocated voices. What was happening to me? Was I a prisoner? Was I a patient? Was I awake even?
And then.
‘Name?’
‘Holden, James.’
‘Flight?'
'HA. - DE.5.’
‘Crashed plane?’
‘Yes.’
‘Any news on that?’
‘Investigators are going through the wreckage.’
‘Crew?’
‘All dead.’
‘Any news on them?’
‘They're going through clearing.’
‘Very well. Open him up, give him a jab, full dose. Then onto the plane. DE. 27.’
‘So many flights,’ the voice says wistfully.
‘Of course.’
‘I hope...’ the voice begins...
‘There is no hope,’ the other voice says. ‘Nor should there be. We are what we are. Do your job diligently. You'll find out one day.’
‘Sir,’ the voice responds.
I came too. Immediately aware I was restrained in my seat. I looked to my left and right. Every seat was full and the occupant of every seat was restrained in the same manner. My head could not turn very far in each direction. I could see seats in front of me and I sensed seats behind. My legs were restrained too.
‘Welcome aboard,’ a voice says from the ether. ‘This flight will take an eternity.’ I feel as if the voice is joking. ‘We trust you enjoy your flight. Take off will be in five minutes.’
‘Where are we going?’ I say to the man on my right.
He laughs. ‘You don't know?’
‘I don't. Where?’
He turns away, so I ask the lady to my left. ‘Do you know where this flight goes to?’
‘Haven't you been screened?’ she asks.
‘No. I haven't.’
‘Have you been in a coma or something?’
‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘I don't know why I'm here.’
The woman laughs. The man to my right says, ‘Well not for good behaviour, that's for sure.’ The woman laughs at this too.
‘We've got a joker,’ says a man from behind.
‘Tell him to shut the fuck up,’ another man says, this time from in front. ‘I want to sleep this one last time.’
‘Does anyone know?’ I ask desperately.
‘We all know and so do you,’ says the man from behind.
‘I don't,’ I say.
‘He's been in a coma,’ the woman explains.
‘Well, I'm not sure...’
‘He'll find out soon enough,’ a younger woman says. ‘Leave him be.’
‘You must be on the wrong flight with a comment like that.’
‘Nah, imagine his reaction when he does find out?’ They laugh.
Nobody spoke with me from then on. We passed through thunder and lightning. The plane rocked. Rain soaked its carcass. Occasionally it dropped without warning and we felt our stomachs get left behind. Some were being sick. There had been no cabin crew. I kept my eyes focused on the seat in front. It was all I could do to concentrate my mind and keep myself from going insane. When I eventually looked down, I could see what looked like water seeping under my shoes. They were not my shoes but light cotton moccasin type footwear. When did my shoes change to them?
‘Going down,’ a voice says. The captain?
‘If you'd like to look from your windows on the right,’ a female voice says. We all tried to turn our heads and look. There was a huge and vast hole in the ground we could see below. The light of flames and a further dim light on the horizon made sure we could see. This vision put the fear of God into me. Instinctively I said, ‘I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't be here...’
And then.
‘Welcome to Hell,’ the voice says. ‘Welcome to eternity,’ it laughs. ‘It's all you deserve,’ it says cryptically.
‘Hell?’ I say in alarm.
‘Hell yes,’ the man jokes to my right.
‘Get used to it,’ the woman says to my left.
‘But, there really must be some mistake,’ I say. Everyone laughs and then they all break into some incoherent but raucous song. I squeeze my eyes tight and once again hear the roar of a plane's engine.
‘Dear God,’ I say, ‘help me!'
And then.
Love the suspense. Look forward to reading more 🙂