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8- Back to Sleep

"Just on the right, sir."
"Thanks."
"We're together," Hayes said, following me down the narrow passage.
"Yeah all five." Tony said. Billy and Tirrean behind him.
"Okay, just on the right then. Seats 146 to 149, then 154 to 156." The flight attendant smiled.

I sat down by the window. I always demanded a window seat when flying.
Tony was sat next to me, then Billy was next to him. Hayes and Tirrean sat directly behind us.

The fire was dreadful. After me and Tirrean fell, we didn't stop till we hit the ground floor. At least a hundred people were running and screaming, trampling over us carelessly.
I blacked out for a while.
When I woke up I was in a cold hospital room.
Tirrean had broken an arm and a wrist.
Tony had landed flat on his stomach and broke at least three ribs, but nothing else.
Hayes was relatively fine compared to the rest of us, and Billy was okay too.

My lungs were fully disfunctional. They had collapsed completely.
I had to use an oxygen tank to breathe and I was given all sorts of pills and fluids to help open them back up again. Because I'd had surgery on a vital organ within the last six years, it was apparently, incredibly dangerous to have another one in the same place unless it was completely necessary.

I swallowed pill upon pill and went through a countless number of different machines, for just over four weeks.

During this time, all five of us were hiding out in the hospital.
I actually needed to be there, but after each of the others had been checked over and bandaged up or given stitches, they were (in reality) good to go.
But
They all exaggerated coughs, pains, something or other for the entire four weeks I was recieving treatment.

In the end, they all ended up staying at least twenty of the thirty days I stayed, avoiding Jarheid, as well as the hotel managers and police.

They were all after us.
The hotel I was staying at tipped me off to Quel's, telling the managers that I was trouble and almost certainly had something to do with the fire.
Jarheid and his folks had also gone to the police and pinned the fire on us, meaning half of Columbia were now on my ass.

I closed my eyes. My lungs still burned on the inside, even after all the treatments. Me and my team really did look like hell.
Tirrean had a cast in a sling, Hayes and Billy were only bruised and plastered, Tony got stitches as well as an interior cast under his shirt. And, all of us looked like crispy baby back ribs, grilled to perfection.

"Our flight will begin shortly. In the meantime," a flight attendant walked down our isle, speaking into a small mic. "May I ask all passengers to ensure your seatbelts are fastened, and all electrical devices are put away."
I sighed and pulled my seatbelt over me, then clicked it into place.

We couldn't stay in Santa Marta anymore. Our names were ruined.
Almost everyone knew us, and we'd gone from low key tourists, to the most wanted men in Colombia.
Hayes booked our flights a week before I was discharged from hospital and we left at 2am in the morning - headed for Mumbai.

Sure, Mumbai was a little off the mark, but going there would allow us some time to think properly about what we were actually doing. Plus, it was a beautiful city. (But I've certainty had my fair share of nights out during this holiday.)
Whatever we did, we were to avoid Santa Marta.

I felt the plane jolt forward and begin to catch speed. I leaned back in my seat. The runway ahead was getting shorter and shorter and soon, we were lifting of the ground.

It was currently 5am.
When the seatbelt sign had stopped flashing orange and we were fairly high up, I unfastened my belt and turned to look over my seat.
Tirrean was thoroughly engaged in a video game on the mini tv on the back of my seat. I shook my head and laughed to myself, then turned back around.
"You enjoying yourself?"
"Mm-hm." He mumbled, barely hearing what I'd said at all.
A smile broke onto my face again.