Gut-wrenching screams were all that could be heard as Flight 537 plummeted towards the ground. Hand luggage flew around the cabin as the vessel spun out of control. Some of the more fortunate passengers were struck by stray bags and died before the plane hit the ground. The reason I consider them lucky is because they had the least painful way out. Unlike the rest of us, they weren’t subject to being sliced by shrapnel, smashed on impact or having to witness the further atrocities of so-called human beings.
My body had been tense and braced for impact since the pilot’s last message over the intercom. Yet the recommended position didn’t seem to do enough for me as our plane hit the ground. A deafening roar along with ripping and crunching of metal silenced all passengers’ desperate cries. I felt my body involuntarily spring from my hunched-over position. Hot air seared my skin as I was launched forward. An unknown, heavy object slammed into the back of my neck. Shocking pain coursed through my body but only for a split second before being replaced by a numb tingling sensation. My body slammed into the ground, the taste of dirt and blood was overwhelming as the left side of my face skid across the forest floor. When I finally came to a stop, my face felt like it was on fire. The feeling of small rocks and splinters burrowed into my skin was enough to make me feel faint. I tried to mentally prepare for the same sensation to consume the rest of my body but it never came. Just an odd tingling feeling. Maybe that’s what being in shock feels like. Surely it’ll wear off eventually and I’ll feel an immense amount of pain. So I should cherish this temporary numbness before I feel everything at once.
The stifling stench of smoke filled my nostrils. From my limited view, I could only see the glow of flames consuming the wreckage. I hadn’t realized until now but it was extremely quiet, eerily so. All the screaming from earlier had stopped. Now, only the crackle of flames could be heard echoing through the woody surroundings. I tried to lift myself so that I could fully assess the damage and search for any other survivors, but my arms didn’t budge. I tried again and again but to no avail. A guttural sob escaped my lips as the gravity of my situation set in. I wept until the dirt-covered side of my face lay in a warm puddle of mud.
I’m not sure when I fell asleep but I was woken up to daylight and the sound of branches snapping. Deep voices were shouting in the distance but they seemed to be getting louder and closer. I began to shout and scream for whoever was there to help me. My pleas were muffled by the ground. Suddenly I was flipped over and staring at my reflection in the combat helmet of my rescuer. A wave of relief flooded over me and once again my eyes began to pool with tears.
“Please, please help me. I can’t move, I ca-”, I sobbed before being cut off by the beep and chattering of a radio. He leaned towards his vest and muttered something about finding a severely injured survivor. A gruff voice responded curtly with “Do it.”
For a split second, he seemed to tense up before releasing his vest. He brought his gloved hand up to his helmet and flipped the visor up. He had light green eyes that were emphasized by dark circles. They not only hollowed his face but aged him significantly, he looked almost non-human.
“It’ll be okay,” he said in an unexpectedly soft voice. I almost believed him, but the lack of expression on his face made my blood run cold. Before I could fully process what had just happened, he raised his assault rifle towards me. My teary eyes widened as he pulled the trigger.