...oops (Independence Day Fanfic)

Too Late

The President burst back through the door he had come through earlier, and we followed.
"General Grey, co-ordinate with the Atlantic Command. Tell them to evacuate as many people out of the cities as they can," he demanded as soon as he came through the door.
"Yes sir," responded an older man, presumably General Grey.
"And get those helicopters away from the ship. Call them back immediately," Whitmore continued.
I looked over to the screens covering the front of the room. I hadn't been paying attention to the news report since before we left to come to D. C., so I didn't know about the helicopter's planned attempt to establish communication.
I looked over at David, worried, and he seemed to have the same thought cross his mind. Those aliens didn't come to communicate.
"What's the hell is going on?" demanded an older, annoying look man.
"We're leaving," Whitmore responded. "Kim, my daughter please."
My eyes were still glued on the TV's, though I was almost scared to see what would happen. I zoned out all of the chaotic talking and planning, not paying attention to what anyone was saying as I watched the alien ship begin to open up.
"This can't be good, this isn't good," I muttered David, tapping my fingers on my legs nervously. "You have to get them out of there! Get them out of there!" I shouted, moving farther into the room, but never taking my eyes off the television.
Before anyone could say anything back to me, or wonder who the hell I even was, three beams of light shot out from the ship on screen, hitting the helicopters, and immediately causing them to explode, falling down to the Earth in flaming pieces.
My jaw dropped, and my hand flew to my mouth, and I immediately felt tears welling up in my eyes. The aliens were ready to attack, and they would attack anything that got in their way.
I turned to David, still almost in tears, speechless, and he just gently grabbed my shoulder with a grim face and began leading me and his father out of the room.
"We're leaving now! They're going to attack!" Whitmore shouted, finally getting a reaction from everyone, now that their attention was no longer on the helicopters that were on screen. "Send out an evacuation notice, I want everyone to get out of those cities."
Everything was a flurry of movement as we all rushed out the door and to a helicopter that was waiting for us.
"Get the rest of the staff on the second helicopter," General Grey ordered to the people around us. "You all, go."
We went onto the helicopter behind the President, his daughter, and other government officials. David was still leading me with his hand on my shoulder, as I was still in shock, and could hardly move myself.
The three of us sat down in a short row of seats behind the President, his daughter, and General Grey.
David looked at me, concerned. "Are you okay?" he asked.
I nodded mutely. The shock of what just happened had finally began to wear off; however, it was being replaced by fear of this helicopter. I was absolutely terrified of heights, but I never said anything about it to David before, because I knew about his flight sickness, and I didn't want him to have to worry about another thing while he was in the air.
One time, we had to go to Illinois to a branch of the cable company we worked for because they were having troubles with their connections. For some reason, we were the ones chosen (well David was, I was just allowed to come as well because I was his intern) for the job, even though we worked in the office in New York. We had to take a flight there, and although it was only a couple of hours long, David almost got sick multiple times. He spent most of the flight with his head between his knees, and I spent most of the flight rubbing his back trying to help.
But anyway, I had never told David that I was actually petrified of flying - and of heights in general - because I didn't want to make flying even worse for him. So for right now, I decided that the best thing was for him to think that the reason I was so pale and shaky was because of shock from a few minutes ago.
I glanced over at David as he pulled his laptop out again. The clock kept ticking sown; 9:12, 9:11, 9:10...
It was almost attack time.
The helicopter lifted into the air with a jolt, and I grabbed onto the armrests, digging my nails into them, and clenched my jaw.
God, I hate heights.
It took us almost the full 9 minutes we had left to fly to and transfer into Air Force 1.
I still hadn't said a word as I slipped into the seat next to David. As soon as we sat down, once again, David opened up his laptop, this time in time to see 0:02, 0:01, 0:00 flash across the screen.
David looked at me solemnly. "Times up."
The plane slowly started to move, rolling down the runway for take off, and I tried to see out the window to the alien ship.
I saw a bright beam of, once again, green light, and then suddenly everything below the ship exploded into flames. I jumped back into my seat in surprise as soon as it did, and clutched the armrests again as I felt the airplane shudder and shake as it took off.
The lights flickered, and the plane kept shaking as we slowly elevated into the air, and as I knew the explosion and flames were creeping up closer to us.
We might die.
It was the first time that the thought had crossed my mind, but it was true. The lights flickered still and the plane shook even more violently, and I felt tears welling up again, this time not from shock or horror, but from pure, absolute fear.
I felt a hand grab mine and I gripped it tight, looking next to me to see David's hand in mine, and his eyes reflecting the same fear that I was feeling and that I knew my eyes contained as well.
Heck, I was even too scared to feel butterflies in my stomach when David grabbed my hand, although I knew they were there.
I gripped his hand tighter, probably painfully tight, as the lights kept flickering and the plane kept shuddering.
And then finally...it stopped.
The lights stayed on, and the plane ride was suddenly smooth.
Somehow, we had made it, and had outrun the destruction that tried to consume us.
I let out a breath that I didn't even know I was holding and, reluctantly, pulled my hand out of David's. As soon as I did, I noticed him flexing his probably now dead fingers. Whoops.
I cringed. "Sorry," I apologized softly, feeling bad that I had held his hand so tight, but to be honest, I already missed the feeling.
David just shrugged, waving it off.
Finally able to relax slightly, I leaned back in my seat and, surprisingly since we were on a plane, I slowly fell asleep.