Shallow Grave

Chapter 3

The air was deadly still. Nothing was moving, even the bugs had quietened down to nothing more than a whisper. I could feel my heart race increase. The surges of adreneline were back. I was beginning to like this feeling. The positivity returned in full force, and immediately I was Charlotte Steele; Woman On A Mission. 

I ambulated forward towards the warming glow of a weak, left-over fire. Its presence was welcoming me in. However, as safe as I now felt, I remained vigilant. The horrors I had previously blocked out of my mind were now my reality. My recent apprehensive thoughts had just been reinforced. Bodies were strewn haphazardly across the beach. Some were still strapped into their seats. Their limbs hung lifelessly away from their pale, cold bodies. Others had not been so lucky and were missing limbs. A woman, lying meters away from one of the four engines, was burnt beyond recognition. It made the contents of my stomach churn and threaten to escape me at any minute.

The foul stench surrounding some of the bodies was horrendous. The blazing day time sun had warmed up the slow, decaying bodies and had emphasized the wretched smell of stale blood and burnt flesh. So far: no survivors. 

The remorseful thoughts running through my mind were of little reassurance. I was questioning whoever was out there - why was I still here? 

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the familiar brown-leather, designer shoe that Simon was wearing during the flight. All my emotions rolled into one. I was beyond excited. I believe that the shoe appearing from behind the distant fuselage, belonged to Simon. However, dread was filling the excited space quickly. It was engulfing its presence, until excitement no longer existed. The dread was telling me to prepare for the worse. Would Simon even have a pulse? Would Simon be in one piece? I could no longer stand the tension and decided to dart towards the familiar clothing item. Upon my approach, I slowed until I was back at a slow walking pace. I approached with caution. Bile was rising in my throat. I placed both hands on the fuselage for support. The potential disarray I was about to see, could change my view on life forever.

Here goes nothing. 

Peeling my eyes around the dismantled body of the aircraft, there he lay. His body rigid and his eyes shut. My beautiful, beautiful Simon. My heart felt as though it had stopped. Collapsing around his exhausted body, I could only manage to sob long and hard into his chest. Life was far from fair. I could even agree that life was definitely cruel. It hurt to see him in this state. Simon was so close to me, yet so far. I couldn't bring myself to look at him closely. I could see fresh bruising appearing on his delicate, pale skin and some of the injuries he had sustained on impact looked serious. But, to my immediate relief, Simon was still in one piece. That was all I had hoped for. If Simon was in one piece, I could allow myself to be at one. Before the crash, Simon was wearing a crisp, white linen shirt. It was the major contrast to how it had looked. Now it was blood-stained and torn. His lean, abdominal muscles were prominant from the position he was awkwardly laying in. Only Simon could look so beautiful in such a state. 

Gently, I clasped his left hand in my palms and began to sing our favourite song. The words were barely leaving my lips, but it was comforting to be able to say them. If only Simon was singing along. Leaning forwards, I took Simons precious head and manouvered him so that he was laying across my lap. He would be much more comfortable like this. I was sure of that. Tears were still flowing down my cheeks. With my free hand, I ran my fingers through his messy hair. I tugged harder than usual; my anger of his absence showing through my actions. The blood around him was dry, which reassured me that the wounds he had sustained had managed to clot themselves. I started a thorough check. I wasn't sure whether Simon was here or not. So, starting from his head I worked my way down. I felt everywhere. I ran my fingers over the minor cuts on his face, and placed soft kisses upon them. They always made things better.. right? I then made my way to his arms and torso. His left arm looked slightly out of line and more swollen than usual. Ah, dislocated? How did I manage to escape with barely a scratch? I slowly began to remove what was left of his linen top. This would make a better head rest than my body, and so I folded it up neatly and placed it under his head. Now this he would have appreciated. I stopped for a moment, forgetting my whole purpose of life and stared longingly at his motionless body. He was cold.