The Differents | ✓

S E V E N T E E N

The first thing I registered when I came to my senses was the smell of something burning. It was a sharp, metallic smell that invaded my lungs and made me explode into a fit of coughing, which in turn made my head spin and my stomach lurch. As my vision stopped blurring, I made out the shape of the dashboard in front of me, split in half and collapsed in the middle. A propeller from the plane was stuck in it and had made a gash cutting through the middle of the ceiling. A sharp pain cut through my right shoulder and I looked down to find the fabric covering it soaked with blood. I winced.

Hearing a groan from my left, I turned and saw part of Sniper. He was leaning over the side of his chair, his head out of view. I gingerly lifted myself from my seat and clambered over to him. "Sniper?"

He didn't reply, so I reached over him and grabbed his shoulders, lifting him so he was sitting upright. It was dim in the plane, the only light I could see coming from the screen in the control panel, which flickered its pale light, regularly going dark. I brushed his hair out of his face and got a good look at him. His eyes were half closed and he seemed to not be fully conscious. Blood trickled from his nose and a few small cuts on the left side of his face. His hands were blackened with what I suppose was ash, and I was puzzling over how this managed to happen when his eyes fluttered open momentarily and he slurred out something I couldn't understand before going limp. Frantically, I slapped him across the face, willing him to wake up, before getting ahold of myself and checking him for a pulse. I sighed in relief when I found one and carefully adjusted him so he was sitting more comfortably.

I sat down on the dashboard for a moment and thought. If Sniper wasn't conscious enough to talk, then there was no way he would be able to walk yet. I would have to carry him out of the plane somehow. The thought made me look around for an exit, and when none presented itself, I started to panic. We were stuck inside a wrecked plane, the Core most likely on our trail, with no way out. I put my head between my knees and tried to steady my breathing. My head throbbed in time with my shoulder and my vision blurred a little.

When I sat back up, my head spinning from the sudden movement, I looked around again, more thoroughly. There were no lights at the end of the plane and so it was shrouded in darkness. I knew that there was an exit there because that was the way we came in, but I doubted that it would open. Behind me, out the front window, was the forest. I shuffled around and took it in.

In front of us lay a huge boulder, so close the front of the jet was almost touching it. The rock was blackened with smears and marks from the crash. The propeller that had cut through the front of the plane seemed to be very tightly wedged between the rock and the plane, and when I extended a hand to touch the gash it made, my fingers came away bloody. Even if we could fit through the tiny space where the propeller had sliced part of the plane in half, the sharp metal edges of the gash would cut us up easily.

I turned my attention to the window. It remained fairly intact, except for a tree branch that had made a hole in it far off to the right. I realized that if I had been sitting only half a metre or so to my right, I would've been dead because of it.

I tapped the window with my finger. It seemed to be made of a very durable material. Still, if we couldn't exit the plane via the big door at the back, the front window would be our only other option. I slipped off the control panel and looked around for something I could use to break the glass. Everything seemed to be either too small, too soft, or attached to the plane. I grumbled to myself and went to the back of the plane to look for something I could use.

It was very dark at the back, but my eyes adjusted and I managed to make out a shelf of sorts made out of bags hanging from the wall. I reached for it and put my hand in. Inside, my fingers brushed the cool, hard surface of something. I grasped it, finding it could fit quite easily in my hand, and held it to the light.