Anomaly; Stranded The Series (bxb)

Chapter 2: Disaster Strikes

Darkness. Silence.

For a split second, Eli wasn't sure if he was dead. It felt like floating—no sounds, no thoughts—just this empty, weightless void. Then the pain came, sharp and all-consuming, as if his body had been thrown through a shredder and spit back out.

Fuck.

His eyes snapped open, and he was greeted by nothing but darkness and chaos. The smell hit him first—burning fuel, smoke, and something metallic. Blood, maybe. His mind raced, trying to catch up with his body as he clawed at the seatbelt cutting into his waist.

They'd crashed. The plane had fucking crashed.

"Jonah?" His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it was the only word he could manage through the haze. Eli's heart hammered in his chest, panic swelling like a wave, threatening to drown him.

He reached out, groping blindly in the dark, his fingers finally brushing against something warm. A hand. Jonah's hand.

"Jonah?" Eli's voice cracked, louder this time. Please don't be dead.

Jonah groaned, and Eli almost cried with relief.

"Fuck... what the hell happened?" Jonah's voice was rough, groggy, like he was waking up from the world's worst nap. His hand twitched under Eli's, and Eli squeezed it like a lifeline.

"We crashed." Eli's voice was barely audible, throat tight with fear. "Holy shit, we fucking crashed."

For a second, neither of them moved. Everything felt surreal, like this wasn't actually happening. The kind of shit you see in movies, not real life. But the wreckage around them, the smell of burning metal, and the agonizing pain in his ribs reminded Eli that this was as real as it got.

"We have to move," Jonah said, his voice stronger now. "We have to get out of here."

The sense of urgency in Jonah's voice kicked Eli into gear. He fumbled with his seatbelt, his fingers shaking as he tried to unbuckle it. It finally gave, and he collapsed forward, hitting the seat in front of him. A sharp pain shot through his side, but he forced himself to push past it.

"Come on, man," Jonah muttered, already halfway out of his seat. He reached for Eli's arm, tugging him up with more strength than Eli would've thought possible in this situation. Jonah's hands were rough, firm, like they were made to handle this kind of chaos.

They stumbled through the wreckage together, the ground beneath their feet uneven, shifting like the earth itself was trying to swallow them whole. The plane had split apart on impact, the cabin a twisted mess of metal and debris. Some of the seats had been ripped from the floor; others hung at awkward angles, barely attached. A few passengers still moved, groaning in pain or crying out for help, but most of them were eerily still.

Eli's stomach lurched at the sight of a body slumped against the window, a dark red stain spreading across their shirt. Don't look. Keep moving.

The heat was getting worse, the flames from the wreckage licking at the edges of their path. They had to get out.

"Over there!" Jonah pointed toward an opening where the fuselage had torn apart. Beyond it was darkness, but it was better than burning alive.

They scrambled through the opening, Jonah going first, his movements fast and desperate. Eli followed, but his body was sluggish, aching all over. His mind felt sluggish too, like it was stuck in molasses. Nothing made sense. He just needed to get out.

The second they were outside, the cool air hit him like a slap to the face, but it did nothing to calm the panic buzzing beneath his skin. They stumbled away from the wreckage, collapsing onto the sand, their bodies heaving with ragged breaths.