Survival of the Fittest

Chapter Twelve - The Survivalist

I groan as I blink my eyes open. My body is positioned uncomfortably and it takes me a few moments to register my surroundings. I'm lying on the ground but that can't be right because I was on a flight. Miami to Rio, Becca, and I have had this planned for months. A little reluctance on her side but a chance for me to get her out into my world.

An adventure for both of us.

This is not waking up from a nap on a long haul flight. If it is, then I've stepped out of dreamland and straight into a nightmare. I push myself up off the ground and cry out in pain. My head throbs and my vision swims momentarily as I sit upright. I clutch my head in my hands and take in a deep breath. A mixture of fuel, burning, and dirt fills my nostrils and I slowly lift my head up again.

"No."

The word sounds like it comes from some distance but it's a word that left my mouth. All around me there is debris. Deformed metal, shattered glass, bags, and people. I twist my body around and feel the world become unsteady at the sight. I am sitting in the middle of the plane wreckage.

Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I remember the turbulence. I remember Becca getting nervous about it and I joked about how it was nothing. I remember an announcement...

Becca. I need to find Becca.

I run my hands along my body. Cuts and scratches but miraculously I don't think anything is broken. With that in mind, I manage to push myself to stand.

We are an unlikely duo. I found her on a hike one day with an injured knee or ankle - I can't remember now and helped her out. A stupid sprain led to a friendship that I'd be lost without. An artist and a survivalist walk into a bar. It sounds like a fucking joke. Becca's life is steeped in creativity. She produces beautiful works of art that convey so much emotion. I am only creative when it comes to figuring out how to dig myself out of the holes I put myself in. I can't even draw a stick person.

I spent most of my life being the odd one out.

Whilst the majority of the girls in my class grew up with dreams of being a princess, I was busy trailing after my twin brothers and trying to get them to teach me things. I begged my Mom to let me join Scouts with Tim and Pete instead of sending me to ballet.

She always called me her wild child.

I think the outdoors has always been and will always be the love of my life. I've always felt so boxed up and claustrophobic when I'm doing the nine to five grind and the good Lord knows that I tried. School was a struggle and much to my parent's dismay I decided against college but it would have been a waste of time and money. My heart just wasn't in it. I bused tables through high school and saved like crazy to take wilder trips, constantly pushing the barriers and applying the knowledge I'd picked up along the way.

You'd be surprised what a girl rambling in the woods, across deserts, and up mountains can pick up in terms of Instagram followers. And with the followers came the offers to work with brands and suddenly bussing tables and working nine to five wasn't my life anymore. Madison Braithewaite was becoming a recognized name, even if the circle was still relatively small in comparison to others.

Maybe that's why Becca and I clicked. She keeps me grounded. She's not remotely impressed by what I do. It took some convincing to get her to agree to this trip with me. She's been in the worst funk since she graduated and I fully intended to pull her out of it. This woman needs a fresh perspective on life, so why not pull her out to Brazil?

Maybe challenging her and pushing her out of her comfort zone would help. I planned a few treks, circled a few small towns to visit. Rio had no idea what was going to hit them when this gruesome twosome stepped foot into it. Heavy drinking, sunning it up, the potential chance to take some more precarious walks or climbs.