Helicopters

Aura

The lights of the city have been left far behind now. I have still gained no explanation from my mother. Ever since she saw the helicopter she seems to have been waiting for it to come and attack us. Alright, maybe that was a bit of a dramatization. But she is still acting like she is waiting for something horrible to happen.

I am tense. Her silence makes me nervous. Mum is not generally a quiet person. Whenever she is present, there is a buzz of noise and energy. But now the air is empty of her colour. The only sounds are the noise of the engine, and the faint whop-whop-whop of a helicopter. But even that sounds dull.

 I have not seen a soul on the way, and the highway is missing the usually steady flow of traffic. The world is devoid of life, and there is nothing I can do about it. I hate things like that. No matter how much you want to make it better, you know that you cannot. If I knew what it was that was bothering her... but I do not. Another thing I do not know is why we are driving aimlessly through the middle of nowhere with no given reason. This is killing me.

Her hands are clenched around the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles are white, and the tips of her fingers are turning slowly purple. She has always been a very careful driver, so I am surprised when she swerves wildly around a pothole that she could easily have driven over without even a slight dip. She winces as the wheels skid on the dew-damp grass. She jerks the steering-wheel roughly to the right. Nothing happens. the car continues to veer off the road, like it has a mind of it's own. She screams in frustration, and whacks the dashboard with the palms of her hands. My heart jumps into my throat. A strangled yelp escapes my lips and then we are falling.

The car tumbles violently down the slope. I scream as the windshield shatters all over us. Branches reach through the gaping hole, whipping at my face and neck. Wet leaves slap at my arms, and smear down the side-windows. My legs fly in the air. The car flips and so do I. My ribs are crushed between the buckled roof and the headrest. Pain turns my vision black. Consciousness flickers. The car slams into something, throwing me into the back seat. An airbag explodes belatedly into my face, and hisses miserably when I push it away. 

I hear Mum muttering something-or-other to Our Lord Who Art In Heaven. My lungs burn, and I feel like I need my inhaler. I cough politely into my hand. It comes away bloody. My eyes widen and I turn to look at Mum. Then I hear helicopter blades whipping the air. Mum pulls on her seat-belt, and squirms her way out of it. She yanks on an airbag, and uses it to swipe away the remaining glass in the windscreen. I try to open my door but it won't move. The windows in the back have not smashed. I wind one down, thankful for manual window openers. I crawl my way through the gap, wincing as I do so. 

We stand by the wreckage. My chest heaves up and down, but Mum just calmly regards the crumpled mess that was her car. It is like she has done this a thousand times. Then she turns and starts walking away. I follow her as quickly as I can, but I can barely breathe. I feel like my lungs are shrinking with every breath l take.

I can not believe it! one second we were driving along, and then suddenly, smash! And here we are. It is like there is something wrong with Mum. She has not even noticed that I am hurt! Usually she would be all over me. She makes a fuss if I stub a toe! And yet she is so worried about that helicopter that she has failed to even notice! That is what scares me the most. Why is the helicopter so bad? I am not sure I want to know the answer to that question. 

She smashes feverishly through low hanging branches, angrily pushing them away. She jumps when one cracks loudly. She looks around frantically, searching for anyone who could have heard, and shrieks when she sees me. "Oh, it's just you!" She cries, clearly relieved. Her eyes tell me that although she is looking right at me, she is no longer seeing me. Her thoughts have moved on. As she turns away , I catch sight of a tattoo on her neck. I never knew she had a tattoo! I try to look closer and see what it is, but her collar shifts and covers it up.

I do not bother to mention it. Even if I did, she would probably not even realise I had said anything. We carry on through bush. Birds rise, squawking, from the trees. My ribs ache, and I cough. Blood splatters my green top. 

Hmm. An interesting colour scheme.

I cough again. We keep walking. My ribs ache, my legs ache, I ache.

I wonder how long we have been walking.

I wonder how long we will carry on walking.

I wonder where mum got the scar on her neck.

I wonder if she almost died.

I wonder if I will die.

Then I wonder if maybe I should stop thinking so much.

I imagine myself floating away from my body. I do it often. I guess you could say it's a talent. I rise high up. I imagine being full of helium.

But without the high voice. 

I come slamming back down to solid ground again. 

That's what comes of thinking too much.

I stop thinking so much, and float again. I stop in midair after a few minutes, and look down at Earth. I watch as it revolves gently. I follow it in it's orbit. It hangs delicately in the indigo sky, surrounded by flickering ice-white stars.

I can see New Zealand from up here. It makes me realise just how miniscule everything is. I am tiny and insignificant, but it doesn't matter. We were made insignificant for a reason. Just nobody has figured out what that reason is yet.