by J. R. Tate
She went back to where the woman and boy were and lifted him out of her lap. He was heavier than Alice had anticipated, his dead weight was a challenge. She had lifted many backboards with large people and now with her adrenaline pumping, she was able to get him up. The woman helped and Alice motioned her head through the doors and behind a curtain where a bed waited.
The boy was still unconscious, his pulse weak and thready, his breathing seeming to get worse. Alice took his vitals - blood pressure was way too low, respirations not good either, and his o2 stats were at a dangerous level. Lifting his shirt, she got her first good glance at his wounds. Something had punctured his chest and the bleeding wasn’t stopping.
“Do you want a doctor?” A young nurse stopped near the open curtain.
“I don’t think there’s one available,” Alice answered as she applied some gauze and pressure to the wound.
“You can’t…” The nurse trailed off. “You can’t do anything without a doctor, right?”
Alice swabbed the back of the boy’s hand and inserted the port for the IV. Looking up, she blew some strands of her hair out of her face. “Watch me.”
“I’ll help.”
The nurse went to the other side of the bed and applied an oxygen mask. To hell with protocols and rules. To hell with the doctors making final decisions on patient treatments. When it all came to fruition, it’d likely mean Alice’s certification would be stripped and she’d no longer be able to work in the medical field but right now, the boy needed her. His young life was more important than waiting for a doctor to tell Alice what she already knew how to do. She didn’t have MD behind her name but she had many years of experience and she was going to do what she could to help.
She applied pressure to try to get the wound to stop bleeding but didn’t want to put too much on it - the extent of internal injuries was unknown and she didn’t want to make it worse.
“What’s his name?” Alice asked the woman as she inserted saline into the port of the IV.
“James. His name is James.” The woman approached the foot of the bed, wiping her nose with a tissue. She had a few bumps and bruises which meant she was one of the few lucky ones. “It was so strange…”
“What was strange?” the other nurse asked.
“All of the cars… they just sort of… stopped.” The woman’s voice shook and she gripped the railing of the bed. “They just stopped and people just ran into each other. There was nothing we could do. There was nowhere to go. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Alice looked up, making eye contact with the woman. “We are going to take care of James for you, ma’am. You’re both safe now.” She hoped she wasn’t lying. What was going on outside the walls of the hospital? Was her own family okay? A chill went down Alice’s spine. Something told her it was going to get a lot worse before it got better, and she hoped her instincts were wrong this time.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jake tried to push the pain aside. From constant vertigo and the mention of blood on his face and forehead, it didn’t take a medical professional to diagnose him with a concussion. Getting over the tree trunk that had split the fuselage in two was a challenge but he needed to climb it to see who had survived and to attempt to get an estimation of casualties. He continued to remind himself that it was nothing short of a miracle that anyone had survived, and the fact that it was three crew members so far made it that much more strange.
Clutching onto the trunk, it was almost too fat in circumference for him to be able to grasp it. The bark worked in his favor, serving as good traction for his boots, giving him enough leverage to climb. His head pounded so hard that the edges of his vision grew black. Pausing, he allowed his body to adjust to the physicality of climbing the tree. Taking a deep breath, he continued again when things calmed down. The trunk was about five feet above the wreckage of the airliner and when he crossed the other side toward the cabin, he made the mistake of looking down. Five feet wasn’t high but he wasn’t level and his boots failed to grab the traction that he managed to do on the cockpit side.
He slid faster than he had planned and scraped his hands and arms up in the process. His shirt ripped, the fibers in the fabric tight on his skin until he got to the bottom of the trunk. Becky pulled him away, hugging him tightly.
“I’m glad to see you’re okay,” she said, finally letting him go. “What happened? And how is Colin?”
“Colin is okay but he’s pinned. The instrumental panel is against him and the outer wall of the cockpit. I’m not sure how we’re going to get him out. Have you walked through the cabin yet?”
Jake got his first good glimpse of the damage from that vantage point. It was breathtaking - various tree branches shooting in and out of the windows, many stripping the metal of the plane like it was tin foil. He had a feeling that the survival number would be a lot less than the casualties, and an instant wave of guilt hit him hard - he was the captain of the flight. The crash was his responsibility. People were dead because the flight he was in command over had been unsuccessful.
“Anyone alive?” It felt ignorant to ask but he hoped to get some response. The wind howled, rustling the trees overhead. A hand rose up several rows back and Jake and Becky hurried toward it.
“Back here,” the man said, craning his neck toward a woman that was pushed up against the cracked window. “She’s not… she’s not breathing.”
Jake knelt down and tried to assess the situation. The man didn’t look good himself, the blood on his face and clothing so thick that he was unrecognizable. Most of the blood was from the woman sitting beside him. Reaching for the woman’s wrist, Jake closed his eyes when he couldn’t find her pulse. He tried her neck and her wrist again, neither proving to give any indication that she was still alive.
“Is she… is she gone?” the man asked, nudging her. “Oh my God… my wife…”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, sir.” Jake stood up, the urge to vomit. The couple directly behind them had been impaled by a branch. A family toward the tail looked burned up. Jake couldn’t recall if there were any fires on board, but with his systems completely crashing, nothing was reliable in alerting him about anything.
“Is anyone alive?” Jake asked again, his eyes scanning for movement. It was disheartening that no one was responding to his calls. That didn’t mean no one was alive. It could also mean there were survivors - they might be too weak to alert him.
“Help me check everyone,” Jake said to Becky. “I’ll start in the back and work my way up. You can start in the front.” How would they help those with serious injuries? The plane had a defibrillator and first aid kits but nothing past that. Hopefully, help was on the way and he wouldn’t have to worry about those who were seriously incapacitated. He could do general first aid and though it wasn’t going to take care of the overall picture, at least he was doing something to try and make up for whatever pilot error he had made.
Most people he came across were dead. Families probably going on vacation, businessmen traveling for work. He tried to numb himself to each person’s story but it was impossible and what hurt the most was seeing children, in their seats, the look of shock on their face from the horror of the crash. Jake tried to glide the plane but it wouldn’t prevent the objects on the ground from tearing up the plane and killing those inside. So far, the only people found alive was the man with the blood covering his face, Becky, Colin, and himself. He hadn’t taken a second to ask Becky how she was faring toward the front of the cabin.
“Help me.”
Jake stopped walking to try and here where it was coming from. “Where are you?”
“Help me.” It was a small voice, a young child and he wasted no time digging through the rubble. Suitcases, bags, smashed electronics, and even other people hindered him until he found the little girl. Lifting her, he looked her over, her dress dirty, her blond hair messy, her face soiled with black around here nose and mouth.
“Are you hurt anywhere?” Jake asked.
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She shook her head. “Where’s my mommy?” She was tiny but she talked well, which made it difficult for Jake to guess her age.
“I’m not sure, sweetheart. We are looking.” She appeared completely unscathed aside from being dirty. She was able to stand on her own, she seemed fully aware of her surroundings, and she was concerned about her mother. “What is your name, sweetheart?”
“Heather. My name is Heather. I want my mommy.” Her lower lip quivered and she began to cry, her tears streaming through the soot on her face, leaving trails against her pale skin.
“Don’t cry, Heather. I’m going to help you, okay? I’m going to help you find her.” Heather made Jake think of his daughter Sophie. Had his family heard of the crash? He wanted them to know he was okay. It was unfortunate that so many families wouldn’t be given good news today. Too many casualties. Too much destruction. Jake wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to live with himself after something like this.
He met Becky toward the front of the cabin again, holding Heather close. “Find anyone?”
“Two or three. There are a couple that need help or they’re not gonna make it, Jake. I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Me either. This is Heather. Heather, this is my friend Becky.”
“You gave me cookies!” Heather’s eyes lit up and Becky took her from Jake.
“I did give you cookies. How are you feeling, Heather? Do you hurt anywhere?”
Jake allowed Becky to work with the young girl. She was better at it and his concern was on the survivors who might add to the death toll if help didn’t come soon. Where was help? It had been at least an hour since the crash. Were they over a rural area that was making the rescue effort take longer? Scooting toward where the flight attendants had their supplies, he searched for a first aid kit. Everything was scattered around and he feared he might not be able to find one. If he sat idle for too long his head would play tricks with him and he’d comb through every second right before the crash. He’d soon face the FAA to go over every mistake he and Colin had made. They’d have to answer to it all and it’s what he deserved for it. A small price to pay in comparison to so many people who had lost their lives.
Even if this crash was deemed mechanical failure, his pilot days were over. Cleared to fly again or not, seeing the victims faces made Jake certain that he would never get over this.
***
Sophie felt like she was in a post-apocalyptic video game and at any second, she expected zombies to pop out of all the wreckage and start chasing her. Danny kept pace with her as they fled toward the direction of where the campus police station was. Some buildings remained standing, a few were on fire, and though she wasn’t certain, it looked like several planes had fallen out of they sky. Cars were left vacant on streets, many crashed into each other. Her gut instinct was to stop and help - there were victims still inside, some awake and responsive, some obviously dead from the amount of blood that was visible.
Stopping at a small truck, the girl inside had a bloody abdominal wound but her eyes were open, pleading for someone to help her get out. Sophie hated herself for debating on whether or not to provide assistance. It was likely impossible to move the woman without the Jaws of Life or help from others. Visible blood was dangerous - so many diseases were passed through bodily fluids and with no one knowing exactly what was going on, she didn’t want to take any chances.
Her mother would be so disappointed in her - she was always ready to help, stepping in, which was why she was a damn good ER nurse but even in this situation, she wouldn’t have been able to do it all herself. Sophie was nothing like her mother. She was an architect major, which meant minimal human contact, no bodily fluids, and no risk of contracting something. But this situation was different - this was a damn catastrophe that would force her into getting over the fear of illness.
Her conscience took over - what if she was the one stuck inside? She’d want someone to help her. From the amount of blood, she knew the woman wouldn’t last much longer. Glancing at Danny, Sophie swallowed the lump in her throat, looking from him to the poor woman, knowing there were many other people out there like her who needed someone’s help.
“I’m headed to the police station. We are going to get someone here to get you out.” Sophie looked the truck over - nothing was leaking out onto the ground, no gas, oil, or anything flammable. “I promise you we will come back.” A voice inside her head echoed - Don’t make promises you can’t keep.
“Please don’t leave me,” the woman whispered, squinting as she shifted her weight. “I don’t want to die.”
“You’re not going to die, okay? The police station isn’t far from here. They can dispatch an ambulance and get you to the hospital!”
Sophie heard a dull roar and the ground shake. Looking over her shoulder, she tried to decipher what was happening but took a hard fall to the ground, her head slamming into the dirt. The edges of her vision went black for a moment and faded. When she was able to grasp her bearings, she realized Danny was on top of her, his body shielding her from a large wall of flames that shot straight above them. The heat off of it made her sweat and the moisture dripped into her eyes, stinging them.
“What the…”
Danny’s weight made her gasp and smoke replaced where the fire had just been, making it even harder to breath. Her lungs burned and Danny finally eased off of her, allowing her to sit up. The blanket of smoke was thinning but still present at eye-level, posing even more questions that Sophie needed answers to.
“What happened?” The truck was still there, the girl inside, her eyes wide.
“There was an explosion.” Danny pointed toward the student union building. “I don’t…”
“We need to get out of here. We need to get some help.” Sophie’s instincts were screaming at her to run and not look back. With the number of fires happening, another explosion would be imminent. “How far away is the chemistry building from here?” It was hard to tell exactly where they were but it didn’t matter - if a fire was going on at that building, an explosion close to all of the chemicals stored there would wipe the entire campus off of the map.
Danny stuck his head inside the truck, and though Sophie couldn’t hear what he was saying, she hoped he was reassuring the victim that they were getting help. She felt guilty for leaving her here but if they stopped for every person in a wrecked car, they’d never get help or make it out themselves.
“Come on, Danny. Let’s get to the police station. Let’s find out what the hell is happening.” They ran past other wrecked cars and buses and Sophie shivered at the probability that they were all filled with casualties and people desperate for help. And here they were, able to run on their own two feet to hopefully find some form of safety.
Legs burning, lungs aching, they continued to move. One question bothered Sophie the most - why weren’t the police already responding?
CHAPTER NINE
Jake glanced down at his watch, forgetting that it had been broken in the crash. He was a creature of habit, always checking to see what time it was. Looking up at the sky, he tried to estimate what the time would be by the location of the sun in the sky. The large blanket of trees over them hindered it, making it appear darker than it actually was. The only good vantage point he had to see the sky was where the plane had ripped through the greenery during its fiery descent into the forest beneath them.
After combing through the cabin with help from Becky, only a handful of passengers had survived the crash. Some were more incapacitated than others, some probably adding to the death toll if help didn’t hurry and get to them. He felt vertigo and braced himself on a seat, preventing a quick tumble down from his body’s betrayal from the apparent head wound he was suffering from.
“How long would you say it’s been since we crashed?” Jake asked Becky, looking up at the sky again.
“An hour? Maybe an hour and a half? That sound about right to you?”
Jake squinted and looked back dow
n - lifting his head only made the dizziness worse. “Hard to say. My watch is busted and I can’t get my cell phone to turn on.”
“Mine won’t work either.” Becky held it up and frowned. “I went right for it to call someone but it won’t even turn on. I figured the crash had something to do with it. Odd that neither of ours works.”
“Neither does Colin’s. Speaking of him, I should probably go check on him. Keep an eye on the survivors. We should probably move them all together so when the rescue crews get here, things will move faster.”
Jake dreaded the climb over the tree trunk, his body already sending out multiple warnings for him to sit still. The combination of vertigo and weakness wasn’t making the tasks at hand easier but those who were left alive needed help, and though the plane was nothing but a shredded up piece of metal now, Jake was still the captain of the flight and he still held a level of responsibility for those who survived.
Scooting down the trunk, the second time climbing it felt a bit easier now that he knew what to expect. Colin was resting his head on the headrest, his eyes closed, but Jake saw the rise and fall of his chest, the first indication that his co-pilot was still awake.
“Colin, how are you feeling?”
The younger man’s eyes opened for a second before closing again. “I want out of this chair.”
“I know you do. I don’t think we should move you until medical professionals get here. What if we cause more damage?”
Jake hunkered down to get a closer look at Colin’s pinned leg. A large blood stain soaked his khaki pants. He had been married to Alice enough to learn a few things off of her, and if they moved his leg, the bleeding could possibly get worse. They didn’t have the resources to ensure that if Colin moved from his current position, they could stop bleeding and prevent much more blood loss. All they had were the standard first aid kits - a band-aid wouldn’t get the job done.
