Choose Your Own Adventure - ON HOLD

Chapter 5 ~ The Child

You chose B) Take the child - you can't just leave him!

You jump and land on the seat next to the child and fumble to release the seatbelt clip. The boy's crying has subsided; you lift him up and hold him close to your chest. A few hurdled rows of seats later, you are at the exit. There are about eight others pushing and shoving each other in a mad attempt to be first out of the plane. A dishevelled air hostess finally manages to move the door from the exit with the help of a young man.

A wave of cool water bursts through the opening and a few of the other passengers are swept away. Holding on to a seat with one hand and the child with your other, you are able to withstand the force and, once the initial gush is over, the air hostess helps you out the door. You dive into a world of blue and kick wildly towards the surface. Your free hand pulls the inflator tool on your lifebelt and the vest fills with air. It propels you upwards and you surface into sunlight, bub safely on your hip.

Looking around, you see about ten other passengers gathered in or around a bright yellow blow-up lifeboat; those waiting in the water to be helped in float effortlessly with the aid of their life jackets the same colour as the boat. You swim over to them and see an old man surface some 50 meters away. There is a stunned and unsettling silence amongst the survivors. One man swims towards you. As he comes closer, you observe that he has brown hair, brown eyes and pepper-like stubble. Wearing a now see-through white collared shirt, tie and black pants, the man appears to be some kind of business man.

"Who are you?" the man asks in a no-small-talk kind of way that is to be expected in a situation as this.
You give your name and in turn ask his.
"David," he answers absently. You see David's eyes dart to the baby and back at you. Before he can say anything, you explain, "He's not mine. I found him still strapped in his seat alone when the plane was sinking and I couldn't leave him."
David nods with a slight smile of admiration. You made the right choice.

With your consent, David takes the baby and passes him to another survivor who is in the lifeboat. You and David are then helped into the lifeboat and you both take a seat on the floor. The life boat is rectangular with curved edges and a canopy over the top. It's considerably larger than you would imagine and looks like it could seat up to 20 people. So far, though, in the lifeboat there's only you, David, bub and the two others that helped you in who introduced themselves as Marree and Luke. A handful are floating in the water, anxiously awaiting the emersion of loved ones. No one has surfaced since the old man just after you.

An hour passes and still nothing. Now, only three people are left in the water, including the old man who is the farthest from the lifeboat. The two others are women who look to be sisters. They are only a few meters from the boat, arms around each other, heads together. You wonder who they lost. A mother? A friend? A father? A brother? A sister? Whoever it is, you know there's no chance of them having survived, not after this long.

Handing the baby to David, you climb down a rope ladder off the side of the boat and slip into the water. You wade over to the ladies and ask if they'd like to come into the lifeboat. This brings one of them to tears and the other shoots you a glare.
"Sorry," you mumble. You start towards to lifeboat but a voice stops you.
"No, no please." It's the woman who was crying. She breaks away from the other's embrace and follows you. "We'd like to come."
Both women are helped into the lifeboat and then you. You take a seat next to David and offer for them to sit next to you.
"I'm Melissa," says the woman closest to you, "And this is my younger sister, Catrine."
"You can call me Cat," says Catrine with a small smile as she takes her seat next to Melissa.
The two sisters look very similar, although Catrine is slimmer than Melissa and has a more angular facial structure. Both appear to be in their late twenties.

Yet another hour passes in near silence. The old man has still not moved from where he was in the water. As if hearing your thoughts, David suggests that those of us in the lifeboat collect the old man. Everyone nods in agreement and David, Luke and another man in the boat each grab an oar that is attached to the side of the boat and paddle towards the old man.

You reach the old man and Luke climbs down he ladder and swims over to him. Luke offers to help him in but the old man responds with silence. Tear stained face and removed gaze, the man is overcome with grief. Again you start to wonder, who did he lose? A wife? A brother? A sister? A friend? Or worse, a child?

Minutes feel like an eternity but finally, the old man speaks. He speaks in an inaudible whisper but you see his lips moving. He is helped into the boat and takes a seat before returning to the faraway state he was in before. "His daughter," Luke says solemnly, "And her son."

It hits you right in the guts. You don't have children, but your brother Neil does. Two girls, six and four. You can't even begin to image the gaping wound that would surely be left in your heart if you were to lose your nieces.

Suddenly, the old man's eyes light up as they settle on the child in your lap.

"Daniel!" He exclaims in disbelief before breaking down in tears.
"What?" Daniel?
The man shakily makes his way over to you, his eyes fixed on the child. He reaches for the boy but you only hold him closer. The old man's stare of meets yours and he says, in a more pronounced voice than before, "He's my grandson."
You look at David, questioning whether you should hand over the child. He nods and allow the man to hold his grandson. Sobs rack his decrepit figure. Quickly, though, tears of joy turn to anger as a wave of realisation comes over his face. "You! It's your fault she's dead!"
"W-what?!" You splutter at this wild accusation. How could it possibly have been your fault that this man's daughter died?
"My daughter was in the toilets when the accident happened. She went back for him. When she couldn't find him, she wouldn't leave," the old man says in a hoarse voice. "I tried to save her but she wouldn't leave until she found her son."
The news rolls over you like a tidal wave. How could you have possibly known? Should you have even taken the child?

Before you know it, the sky is pinky-orange and the air is brisk. You've passed the hours in grief-stricken silence, the pang of guilt that struck at first hasn't left, nor do you expect it to.

What do you do now?
A) Wait. You can't think of anything right now.
B) Suggest that you all make an inventory of what you have
C) Talk to the old man
D) Go for a swim
E) Talk to David
F) Go to sleep