Burning your Alibi.

Chapter Seven: A Beast from Air.

There was no light left in the stars as Simon grabbed me from the jungle. We both are on a mission to pick up the fainted boy, Percival Wemys Madison.

I was only seemingly half awake when he told me of his faint, possibly from over exhaustion or ghostly fear.

We found the boy, aimlessly passed out on the sand, his hair folded over his dirty face.

When I get a good look at him I finally notice, I remember something grim.

Piggy and I were the only survivors from the front cockpit of the plane, the only ones who managed it out. Percival, Jack, Simon, and many others were in the back, right where the plane sliced in half.

That means they were closer to the fire ablaze in the engines.

Percival lays there, burns over his legs, lain untreated and gruesome. His face was coated in scratches, leaving me to imagine he must have had to grip to something while he was falling. He seems to have the worst of it, making me suspect he was by the plane's wings.

Besides the terrible ruckage of the front of the plane, I realized me and piggy somehow survived that. It starts to sink in, noticing how everyone almost died just by the crash itself.

I shake my head, moving towards Percival, Simon following behind me.

"We can carry him towards the huts. Do you know why he fainted?" He asks me, speaking in a quiet tone as he begins to grab up on him.

His fingers grip his hands before lugging him up, holding his lower arm.

He huffs out, speaking out quickly, "Grab his legs,"

I move up, snatching his legs in my hands, pulling them up as I carry his other half. Simon begins to move backwards, occasionally looking behind himself as we carry him.

I think back to Jack catching up to me, confused on why he even did that, I can't seem to pinpoint why. Was he messing with me? He seemed too genuine to do that.

Would he do that? I don't know.

The snow fogs up on the shopping window, yet still gives me a clear look inside. My hand comes up, swiping up and removing some frost away.

Ahead in the shop's window lies a big display boat, beautiful with all edges. Carefully tailored sails, complemented with its light brown body, I wanted it so bad.

A big smile rises itself to my face, my blonde hair brushing in the chilly air, snow tipping down on my cheeks.

Fogging up the air around me, my breath shudders, I skim my hand around in my pocket feeling for my coins.

My thumb runs over the small bag that carries them, feeling little to none inside.

Sighing I watch the boat again, checking my watch.

3:22 pm, December 18, 1940.

It wasn't that far away, maybe my parents might get me it for christmas.

I smile a bit, hope flooding up in my body at the idea of opening it up on the warm christmas morning. Finally

It was now February 2, 1941. We had to evacuate London the morning of December 22, due to bomb threats. I didn't get my boat, or anything else for that matter.

For safety they took the boys from my school, Williams Dwight junior high and the nearby christian school, Saint Andrews lutheran, in the plane.

My parents were separated, my father out to war, my mom, I'm unsure.