OtherWorldly

2. Journeyman

2. Journeyman

The first thing Langdon noticed was the pain.

It was everywhere. It flowed through his body from head to toe, drenched his soul in pure torment and set it ablaze over the flames of agony. He couldn't think, he could barely breathe, and he certainly couldn't move. All he could comprehend was the incredible torture that he was being put through. He wanted it all to end, wanted this pain to finally come to a close, prayed that his next breath would be his last.

But then he heard it.

Crying. Screams. Tears. Shouts. The tell-tell signs of a child in distress. The noise was muffled and to Langdon's disfigured mind it seemed to be coming from miles away, but still he recognized it. How could he not?

It was his baby, Baby Crystal. She was still alive, she was waiting for him, and something was wrong. And that meant he had a job to do.

He could die some other day.

"Crystal!" Langdon called out, his dry throat making his voice come out cracked and nasally. "Crystal!" He screamed again, and he forced his eyes open.

He was still inside of his ship, but he had been thrown out of the cockpit and was lying pressed up against the windshield, surrounded by pools of broken glass and covered with what could only be his blood. He slowly hobbled to his feet, leaning against the destroyed frame of his cockpit, and looked around.

Their ship had been destroyed. The frame had crumpled in several places, making the already tiny spaceship even more claustrophobic. The lights inside the ship had shut off, chairs were strewn about, glass was broken everywhere, and the cabin had been depressurized, exposing his Power Suit to the unpredictable atmosphere of an unknown planet.

Langdon made his way towards his daughter's overturned cockpit chair, becoming more and more sick as the crying got louder and louder. He grabbed the side of the chair with his exoskeleton-layered hand and tossed it to the side. Lying underneath was Crystal, rolled up into a tiny heap. Her face was deep red and covered with tears, her helmet visor was cracked, but she was alive.

Thank the stars.

"Crystal!" He shouted.

"Daddy! Daddy...it...it hurts..."

"It's okay baby girl I'm here," he said, bending down on one knee and cradled her small form in his arms. "Are you okay?"

"My leg hurts Daddy."

Langdon looked down at her left leg and he felt a hot coal run down his throat. Crystal's chair must have fallen on top of her because her shin was bent at an ugly, impossible angle. There was no question that the bone was broken.

"You're gonna be okay, we're gonna get you some medicine and fix you right up."

"Oh my God!"

Langdon glanced over his shoulder and saw Jeantelle standing over them. She stared down at their daughter's broken frame with tears in her eyes. Her bright red hair was disheveled in her helmet and her face was covered with sweat.

"Are you okay Crissy?" She said, crouching down on one knee.

Crystal all she could manage was a small, weak movement. It was obvious that she was in great pain.

"We need to get her out of here," Langdon said

Jeantelle nodded.

"Where's Alex?"

"Alex!?" They yelled out together.

"Mom, Dad?" 

"Alex, where are you?"