DONE ✔️ (UNDER EDIT)

Chapter Five.

Chapter Five.
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After hours of nothing but the hum of the engines and the occasional creak of the plane, the inevitable happened.

The plane began to descend.

The sudden drop in altitude made my stomach lurch, again. It was subtle, but I felt it — the shift, the pull of gravity changing. We'd be landing soon.

The thought made me feel cold. We hadn't even planned for this. We hadn't planned for what would happen after. Our plan had been simple: get on the plane, get out of the infected zone, and find somewhere that wasn't already a warzone. But there was no plan for what came after the landing. No plan for what the authorities would do when they found us. No plan for how we'd get through the next steps.

We were just here.

"Hey, are we... Are we almost there?" Savannah's voice cracked through the silence; her fear evident.

"I think so," Parker said from across from me, his voice low but steady, "We've got to be close. Grab onto something."

Spike barked, short and sharp, and we all turned toward him. He was standing near a cargo net, tail stiff, eyes fixed on us.

Perfect.

With Caleb and Savannah's help, I got to my feet. My muscles were sore and stiff from the flight, but my knee wasn't screaming the way it usually did—guess the pain meds had finally kicked in. The others scrambled up too.

We grabbed our backpacks—more out of instinct than strategy—and moved toward the cargo net bolted to the wall. It was the only real anchor point in the hold. One by one, we latched on, wrapping arms through the webbing or gripping the thick straps with both hands. I wrapped an arm through the webbing and leaned my weight into the wall. I couldn't dig in my heels like the others—my knee wouldn't hold—but I shifted my balance, knees slightly bent, doing my best to stay grounded without locking the joint.

Spike settled between us, crouched low, paws braced wide.

The plane tilted forward, and the hold rattled around us as turbulence set in. It wasn't violent, but enough to lift my stomach into my throat. The floor beneath us shuddered as we hit a pocket of rough air. Someone beside me cursed under their breath. I clenched the net tighter, forearms burning.

The landing gear dropped with a mechanical thunk, and we all tensed. The noise outside grew louder, more urgent. The final approach.

And then—impact. The wheels slammed into the tarmac, jolting the entire hold like a car wreck. I nearly lost my grip, boots skidding against the floor. Savannah slammed into my side, but I kept my footing. Spike let out a startled yelp.

The plane hit the runway hard—wheels slamming into tarmac with a teeth-rattling thud. The cargo hold jolted violently. I nearly lost my grip. Savannah bumped into me, and Spike let out a soft yelp, crouching low to the floor.