After the Storm

Chapter 22: Tell me it Isn't True

I was on fire. My body is burning.

"Dr. Robbins, Dr. Wilson!" I remember the paramedics screaming.

But after that, all I saw was red.

I picked myself up out of the ditch that I was laying in, though I really wasn't sure where I was.

Fire and debris was everywhere.

"Wilson?" I groggily asked.

It was hard to keep my eyes open.

"Matthew? Rick?" I called out for the two paramedics.

The baby- oh no, the baby.

I couldn't spot anybody else, not in the street ahead or down in the ditch. I felt a burning sensation radiating off of my leg, causing me to release an involuntary, guttural scream. I shook it wildly in the grass, distinguishing the sparks.

Memories of the plane crash immediately came flooding back; lying hopelessly on the forest floor, my thigh split open, and screaming for help to no avail. One painful memory triggered another; the gashes covering Jerry's forehead, Lexie crushed under the wing of the plane, Derek's mutilated hand, and Mark- oh, Mark. All I could picture was them and the debris scattered around the ground, big and little chunks of the plane and medical equipment buried beneath the brush.

The scent of burning flesh, fuel, and black smoke didn't help my case. It only intensified my anxiety and remembrance.

I started to panic when I felt wetness between my thighs; it was rarely a harmless sign for a pregnant woman. I looked down, spotting a small, red stain coating my scrubs. I was covered head-to-toe in dirt and blood from several tiny scratches running up my arms and legs. There was a line of blood trickling down my forehead, too, and I didn't realize it until it touched my upper lip. I was too panicked by the blood pooling between my legs.

Groggily, I attempted to drag myself up the hill and out of the ditch, consciously minding my stomach. It took every last ounce of my strength to move my body, even just to turn my head. As I neared the incline of the hill, my hand fell down to my bump and I frantically felt for movement.

"My babies," I whispered, tears pooling in my eyes. I blinked, water immediately falling down my cheeks and dripping down my chin. "Please, no."

As if out of nowhere, I found the strength to push myself up onto my knees. I didn't know how I was able to move given the pain that was circulating throughout my body, but I found the will. Once up the hill, I collapsed near the rails and spotted the ambulance, flipped onto its side and smoking.

My vision was blurry but I swore I could see blood tracking the pavement and a body not too far away from it. It must be the paramedics.

"M-Matthew," I called, my voice hoarse and small. There was no chance that he could hear me, even if he was conscious. I turned to the left and searched for the others; Jo was laying face-down only a few feet away, but I couldn't see any blood surrounding her.

"Wilson," I said, my voice stronger.

She didn't move or acknowledge my voice in the slightest. For all I know, she could be dead, too, and I am alone. I am alone and nobody knows that I'm here. I thought about Callie and Sofia, who both expected me home tonight; warm and safe.

There was nothing I could do; I couldn't move or bring myself to stand and search for help. The semi-truck that hit us was nowhere to be seen. I survived a plane crash and now I was going to die here, on the side of a remote highway.

I was going to die and so were my babies. That was the last thought I had before the world around me darkened.

-X-