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Rachel almost shoots out of her seat again. “This is my entire fault. If I had started making preparations sooner, and maybe he would have checked—”
“Calm down,” I say in a tone that sounds more like an order than reassurance. I turned back to the pilot. “How much time do we have left?” I ask, growing increasingly aware of the tightening in my chest.
The pilot moves back to the cockpit, and I follow him with Rachel at my heels.
“Honestly, not much,” the pilot says. His face shows a bit of scare, but his voice is confident, and that works for me just fine. “I am going to try to get us closer to the water to reduce the impact when we go down.”
Rachel gasps beside me, her hands covering her mouth. I can see the fear in her eyes as the reality of the situation sets in. Her hands tremble as she grips the headrest of the pilot’s seat.
I find myself telling her that we are going to be fine, even though I’m not sure if I believe that myself. “See? We have got life jackets. We are close to the water. We will be fine.”
Rachel bobs her head, her eyes still filled with doubt. She’s obviously scared, perhaps as scared as I am, but I think there is more to her worried look. Is she still blaming herself for what’s happening, thinking that if she hadn’t messed up the schedule, then the pilot would not have had to hurry and would have had enough time to check the engines? And while a large part of me wants to blame her, too, it doesn’t seem fair.
This is too serious to be anyone’s fault.
It’s just bad luck. Terrible fucking luck.
In the next few moments that follow, the jet descends faster and appears to be plunging head-first toward ground level. We all hold our breaths. The assistant pilot hands us life jackets, her trembling hands betraying the confidence her voice painted as she says, “Everything will be okay.”
I pull the jacket on me, glancing over at Rachel as she fumbles with hers. “You good?” I ask.
She exhales. “I think so.”
“Okay, everyone, brace yourselves,” the pilot’s voice sounds.
The next moments happen very fast. The jet dips sharply, the wind whistling and engines roaring. My grip tightens on the pilot’s headrest, my heart hammering against my ribcage. Rachel’s knuckles turn white as she clenches her fists tightly. The tension in the plane rises to an all-time high, the scent of salt water becomes more apparent, and fear is choking all parties involved.
And then, impact.
The force with which the plane hit the water almost knocks the living daylight out of me. The sound of shattering glass and tearing metal fills my ears.
This is it. This is how it ends.
The forceful, turbulent rush of water into the plane reminds me of a typhoon, and then I start randomly remembering scenarios of deadly typhoons I have seen in the news; my heartalmost gives away. There’s no way any of us will survive this.No, this is how it truly ends for all of us.
“Get out! Get out now!” the pilot screams, and he starts rushing to the emergency exit, with Rachel behind him and the remaining two of us running closely behind.
The cold air hits me like a slap in the face as we all jump out of the sinking jet. The freezing water cruelly tortures my skin like it’s been waiting for me its whole life, pulling me mercilessly underneath. I desperately kick to the surface, struggling to catch my breath as I look around.
I see no one, not a single soul. I am the only one I can see as far as my eyes go. Scary thoughts torture my mind.Where’s everyone? Where’s Rachel?
My mind plays fearful scenarios of what could have happened, and I choke hard in panic. I doubt I would have choked any harder if water had gotten into my airways.
Chapter seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
Rachel
The last thing I remember after the impact is the water closing in around me, cold and persistent. I also remember feeling like I was drowning—not in the water but within myself—my limbs growing heavy, my breath slowly ceasing until I am completely submerged. Just before drifting into unconsciousness, I hear my name being called in a voice that sounds so far away, so familiar—like my father’s.
Could it be my father? Am I finally dead?
I let go of the “not now, not like this” mantra I have been repeating silently in my mind. A weak smile crosses my lips as I fall into a deep slumber.
I open my eyes as my consciousness zaps back into attention. Disoriented, I panic but slowly calm down when the strange, blurry face hovering above me takes on a familiar form. I stillcan’t connect the face, but my mind eases, knowing it’s someone who will not harm me.
A familiar voice, soaked in worry, speaks: “Rachel! Rachel? Are you okay?”