Upon opening my eyes, my vision was already failing me. In and out of darkness, a haze clouded my head alerted me to the concussion I most likely had. The second I gather my thoughts, I immediately look around. I'd had Coyote wrapped up in my arms and legs before we'd crashed. Where was he? My heart sinks and I frantically release my seat belt, throwing the straps to the sides as I force myself to stand. Bad idea. Everything around me begins to spin as I stumble forward into the seat in front of me. A new smell suddenly hit me. Blood. I glance down to my right leg and find a bad gash about 6 inches long down the outside of my calf where my pant leg is soaked dark red. I'd been a medic in the Marines and seen a lot of blood in my day, but seeing my own blood never changed. Still made me want to get sick, which I was already close to doing in the first place with my head spinning the way it was. Finding a stable position to stand in, I give the inside of the plane a glance around. A couple of bodies littered the walkway, which I could only assume were DOS. One was a flight attendant but the other was a passenger. Probably neglected to strap his belt on right. Pulling myself out from the row into the isle, I cup my hands around my mouth and call out "Coyote!", coming out in a strained, raspy tone. Holding onto the seat of each row, I make my way towards the pilot's cockpit being careful not to step on or move the bodies in the center isle. I try the handle but it's stuck. In that moment, I knew I didn't have the strength to try busting it open, so instead of attempting to kill myself just to open a door I turn back to the isle. Over the noise of the wind pouring through the many broken windows, I could hear something, or someone, making sounds towards the back of the plane. At once, I push my way through all the luggage and other things scattered across the isle towards the back, looking into each isle as it's passed by. "Anyone there?"

Kiki felt pressure over her body, it was difficult to breathe. She felt like she was asleep, or had a fevery head - the type that made you feel like the room was spinning and your body in a freezing ache. The irony taste of blood was in her mouth and her surroundings smelled strongly of fresh blood. Her body was sticky, she could feel her hair matted to the back of her neck. She felt like a kid in the car, pretending to still be asleep after the ride for the sheer reason of wishing it were so. After a moment she pulled herself up a bit, the belt at her waist had cut into her pretty deep. All of her muscles were sore, her neck complained as she attempted to sit up. She looked down herself and patted over what she could reach, she felt like she was in one piece. This blood was definitely not hers. She looked to her left and saw a hand dangling over her shoulder with a simple golden ring on it, the blood had already dried in stripes along the connected fingers.

Kiki's entire body complained as she did a sort of roll to pull herself out from under the body on top of her. She did normal exercise in the mornings, like jogging and yoga, but nothing could compare the soreness in her body right now. She finally ridded her back of the dead weight and watched the man sort of plop to her lap, his other arm thudding on the ground. He lay sideways, his head and arms at strange angles. He had plastic jutting out of his body and the thin airline blanket was soaked with sticky, cold blood. She peeled it off of his body like a sticky wrapping before dropping it at once, she gasped as she pulled her hand away. It looked like his side was turning inside out, the air of his lungs seeping through holes from a broken ribcage.

"Dr.Jones?" she said, her voice just above a whisper. She cleared her throat, the feeling of pine needles having been shoved down them and spoke again, "Dr.Jones," she said more urgently. She knew deep down that there was no way he would respond, even if he somehow survived the trauma to his body, the loss of blood and intense injury would have him comatose for days and maybe weeks. She sobbed like a baloon letting out air, "Dr.Jones..." she was stuck under his body, his twisted body pinning her down into the seat. He had saved her life.

Her neck cracked loudly and she winced as she sat up in an attempt to look over the seats. She held a hand to the back of her neck and looked around. She wondered how long they had been there. It had to be more than 20 minutes but no more than a couple of hours, judging by the blood and body in her lap. She heard some shuffling in the back and her heart skipped a beat. She very carefully turned her body as much as it would, being careful not to turn her neck.

He was floating.Lighter than air. Non existing. His conscious wrapped in a comfortable haze. Nearly as if he was sinking into a dream. Unaware of anything it felt just a bit darker. A pang of something flashed over him, jogging his mind to slow down. Or start up. He couldnt tell. He wanted to wake up, but instead of the thunder he would usually hear there was a hum. His eyes blinked.

In that moment all of his world shrunk to one point. The damaged looking metal over his head. His awareness snapped like hit by a whip and pain flooded him. He felt sick and barely hold himself from throwing up. He whimpered. Memories jumped in a nearly urgent fashion, replaying the last few minutes before ... before the crash. Turbulences, screams, being shaken and thrown around like a lose toy in a box. The only thing keeping him in the seat the belt. In a reflexive motion Angelino pulled a deep breath. A little voice in his head remarked that was a good sign that he could do that. If his lungs were pierced that probably wouldnt be possible. He hold it and released. He repeated it, there was a lot of pain. He did it a third time and felt his body relax. The stiff muscles shivering, the feeling taking away most of the edge of panic that he felt.

He could keep himself relatively calm now. He reopened his eyes once more. And moved his hands to the head. There was something dripping in his left eye. Touching the substance he saw it being blood. That explained the headache, he must have hit his head during the fall. He slowly and controlled released a breath. Then was it when he moved his head very carefully. His back must have been bruised but beside slightly spinning and minus the global pain, he felt good.
Good, yeah. Totally my lucky day. He turned his head to the old woman who sat beside the window and froze. The asian lady with grey hair, didnt move. Yet her eyes were wide open, staring at empty. She looked nearly serene. Angelinos stomach flipped and in a swift motion that his head didnt approve he turned over the other side and thrown up the airplane food. It was the first time he saw a dead body. He was shaking, his heart racing. Closing his eyes to not look at the blood and other possible dead bodies. He forced his mind into himself. Panicking is bad, deep breaths slow heart beats.
Press something on your head, for that bleeding. Angelino followed that instruction and pulled the napkin from lunch that stayed with him. Pressing it against the place where his head hurt the most. His ears picked on some crying and movement. Words.
"Hey?" He tried to alert that yes he was alive as well. ANd having no idea what to say after that. Any question seemed extremely improparated.

"What the fuck? I'm alive?!" groaned Isaac.

Isaac quickly checked all over his body for injuries, and seeing that all limbs, fingers, and toes were accounted for, Isaac quickly went to work unstrapping the seat belts and throwing away the oxygen mask that covered his mouth. Though his body hurt like none other, Isaac jumped up from his seat triumphantly and shouted with a loud and thunderous "airborne!" But once the thrill of being alive worn away he was left with a deafening silence that overcame him. Bodies and blood were everywhere. It had not been the first time he had seen bodies, and in fact, a lot of them were in better shape now than bodies in the 'Stan (a 40 mm grenade from an M320 will make short work out of anyone). But it did not lessen the impact of seeing these corpses, corpses of your fellow countrymen, Americans, foreign civilians, and flight personnel strewn about the floor. Then he felt shame. Shame that he, out of all these people, good people, survived unscathed. It certainly looked like some of them suffered greatly before death. Isaac closed his eyes and said a small prayer for their souls.

After grabbing his own bag and looking through the contents, Isaac began grabbing other bags from the overhead and throwing them to the center of the isle. He would pilfer the insides later depending on how long it would take before rescue arrives. If rescue was even coming, he would leave them alone. No sense in stealing from the dead. But, if worse comes to worse, he would need everything he can get to stay alive wherever the Hell he was.



So he was not the only survivor.

"Yo!" he called. "Can you hear me? I'm alive over here. Who else is still breathing?"

Kiki turned and her mouth fell slightly agape. The cabin broken, splashed with blood and bodies. She dry-heaved, sending a terrible wrenching through her neck. Her whole body began to shake as her brain began to pull out of its haze, she took in her grin surroundings. Her heart ached. Just seeing all of these people who were alive just before, talking, kicking the backs of seats, going to see their family. A lump caught in her throat. She looked out one of the windows on the other side to grimly assess th-

"Airborne!"

Her heart leapt into panic and she jerked back, resulting in her body disagreeing with the sudden movement. She groaned under her breath, [i]"Jesus fucking Christ..." she said as she lay a hand over her heart. Of all the things to do at a solemn moment like this, shouting the name of a vitamin company would be the last on her mind. Nonetheless, she twisted and did a sort of half-stand, looking behind her to where all the rustling was coming from.

"Yo! Can you hear me? I'm alive over here. Who else is still breathing?"

She rolled her eyes, the first action that her body hadn't punished her for. She spoke hoarsely but sternly, "Stop jumping around you idiot, we could be just barely balanced or on the edge of something," she would have said more about the dangers of being a total donkey but she needed the guy's help. Her voice shook just as her body did, "Can you come help me?" she looked down at poor Dr.Jones as she was pinned to her seat.

His hands were still shaking from the adrenaline of survival. Isaac could barely insert the key into the keyhole of his lock box, and clipping his sheathe onto his belt became a ridiculously difficult task. He wiped his nose with his thumb and did a quick survey around him. It definitely was a grim scene. He had been trained in numerous survival scenarios, but surviving a plane crash was not one of them. One would think the army would train airborne infantry units on procedures after surviving a plane crash. Guess not.



Another voice called out to him different from the first. That accounts for two survivors. And one of them was more snippy than the other. But despite the aggressiveness in her voice, there was reason behind it. Being balanced on an edge was not something Isaac had accounted for. But he assumed if they had not fallen already the plane was fine.



“Yeah, give me a sec.”

Isaac slung his carry-on bag over his shoulder and left his luggage in his seat. He moved through the center isle to where the voice originated from a bit further ahead of the plane. Initially he just stepped on the bodies that were in his way without another thought, but as he thought about his situation, it felt rather disrespectful. He began to step over them and attempted to make as little contact with the corpses and strewn parts as much as possible.

The paratrooper spotted the person who called out to him pinned in her seat underneath a corpse. She had a wild look about her, something very different compared to the conservative nature of the military and its dress regulations. He cocked his head for a moment as he studied the corpse on her. The body's seat belt held onto it firmly. She was all bloodied up as well, but guessing by the sound of her voice, she was more shaken than gravely injured.

“Alight, let's get that dead weight off of you,” joked Isaac.

Isaac pulled the corpse upwards, let the upper torso hang freely in the isle, and went to work at the seat belt. The buckle was obviously not functional. Either it was broken or something inside it was snagging on the release. With his Bowie knife, Isaac began to saw through the belt and in a few minutes the corpse was free. “Voilà,” he mumbled as he pulled the body into the isle.

“You seriously injured?” he asked as he dropped the corpse.

Kiki let out a sigh as she heard the guy marching toward her, at least someone could walk. She waved him over as he came closer, wincing every time he stepped on a body. She wondered if their blood was still warm as they were stepped on like bugs. He seemed to notice her disgust, or realise what he was doing as he began to step around the people on the floor. He looked like a lumberjack with less beard and a typical American military haircut. She wondered if he was from Alaska or something interesting.

Her stomach turned over at his distasteful joke. She didn't even give him a sympathy laugh. He was certainly unique. He leaned over and grabbed the body from her lap and pushed him to the other side. She pushed up as much as she could...until the horrible snapping of bones caught her ear, pulling a dry gag from the deepest pits of her stomach. Her hands shook and she let him cut away the seat belt. She stood and stretched her muscles, her bones cracking with a good kind of hurt. She stepped carefully into the aisle, avoiding her companion. She stared at him for a few long moments.

“You seriously injured?”
She shook her head silently then forced her eyes from the bloodied mess, looking at the guy next to her.

"Thanks," she said plainly, the sticky blood still covering her back and face. She looked down at his knife, "Did they let you take that on the plane?"

A high-pitched noise sounded off behind Knowles, causing the hairs on the back of her neck quickly standing on end. Knowles quickly turned around with her hand on the concealed ka-bar knife in her jacket to face it. It dawned on her then what the noise was. Someone cried out in pain. Quickly, trying to step over the spilled luggage and broken pieces of seats and things across the isle, she attempts to make my way towards the person in need. As she neared where she could only assume where the noise had come from, a soft-spoken voice came from the next row over.



Knowles glanced over in the direction the voice came, then back towards where she'd originally been heading. The person, whoever they were, had grown quiet and Knowles could only hope that they'd maybe died quickly. Ignoring her thoughts, she squeezes through the middle row of seats and pulls herself through to the next isle. Knowles looked down upon the man who had called out before, making eye contact with him. Eyeing over him quickly to see if there was any immediate injury, she bent down on one knee to get closer to his level. Skipping the whole are you okay? bit, knowing full well none of them would truly be okay, she instead offered, "Any major aches or pains? Maybe take a moment before you do, but do you think you can stand?" At the tail end of her sentence, Knowles heard another voice strike out.



Knowles turns her head towards the other voice in question. After a moment of staring into the abyss of seats, the voice came again asking if there was anyone else still breathing, too. With an internal sigh, Knowles turned back to the man before her. Talking to him softly, "Thankfully, we're not alone." As the voices behind them in the other isle continued to talk to one another, Knowles heard another sound that she immediately recognized. A few soft, high whines came from her right towards the front of the plane. Coyote! A hesitant dose of relief filled Knowles in the knowledge her four-legged battle buddy was okay. Quickly jumping to her feet, Knowles holds out a hand towards the man she was speaking to before, "I'll be just a minute. I'll come right back!"

With that, she stumbled quickly over the debris, looking down each isle she passed until she found what she was looking for. Coyote lay at the feet of several passed passengers, a small child lain on the floor beside the poor dog who he was gently nosing. He'd always loved children, and he probably thought he'd try waking the child, though the baby girl would most likely never open her eyes again. If the child was injured in any way, and if severely, the better thing to do would put her out of her misery. The way Coyote lay beside her told Knowles that she was gone, though. He was protecting the body, as he was trained to do until found had she died in combat.

Patting her pant-leg, Knowles gently tried coaxing her dog out from the isle. "Come on, boy. We can't stay here." Without hesitation, Coyote rose to his three legs and backed up from the isle to hobble around the rows of seats towards Knowles. She caught a glimpse of his prosthetic leg that had come undone, making her way to him to meet the limping dog halfway. Bending down, Knowles quickly strapped the prosthetic back onto him, allowing him to stand up proper. Coyote wagged his tail tenderly in a grateful gesture, walking off towards the two towards the middle of the plane who had been interacting between each other while Knowles was busy with the other man. Cupping her hands around her mouth, Knowles called out to the young man and woman, "Are you whole, over there?" Again, Knowles avoided asking the more pointless questions. Wandering towards the man she'd originally talked with, she scanned over the heads of the seats and caught them in her sight.



Upon hearing this, Knowles suddenly thought of her Beretta in her carry-on. What was the item in question the woman had mentioned? Was this man going to be a problem? Many thoughts flashed through her head, but Knowles pulled herself back to the current situation. Tugging her bomber jacket off her arms, she then ripped her sweatshirt and t-shirt up in one motion over her head and snagged the ka-bar from her jacket. Knowles didn't much care she was down to her bra, she'd been down to less in front of more people than those counted on the plane. Both alive and dead. Using her knife, she cut one long strip from the bottom of the tee and stepped towards the older gentleman again. Assessing his head wound where he'd been pressing a napkin, gently taking the red soaked tissue from his hands, Knowles quickly apologized before wrapping the thick strip of t-shirt around the man's head, fastening it in the back. During this whole time, Coyote had made his way over to Williams and Arnaud, standing a few feet away from them, letting out a soft warning bark at them. The dog wasn't positioned in an attack mode, but more of a defensive one. These people hadn't tried advancing on Knowles nor him, and until they did so, Coyote was going to be okay with them. From the other side of the middle seats, Knowles called out, "He's friendly, just making sure you two are alright."

“This old thing?” rhetorically asked Isaac as he patted his knife. “Nah.”

Isaac rubbed the back of his head as he glanced towards the front of the plane. He was not sure if any of the flight staff had survived this ordeal. The instructions from the beginning of the flight were completely lost on him. Were there even procedures on crash landings?

His eyes spotted a dog moving towards them. Isaac unsheathed his knife on instinct and got low. But seeing the prosthetic on the animal's body made the man second guess what he was seeing.



“Right...” mumbled Isaac as she sheathed his weapon. He did not have an aversion to dogs, but the sight and smell of them made him nervous. Too many run-ins with wild dogs in theater caused him to have a natural reaction to their presence.

"Have any idea where we are?" he asked. "Took a few looks outside the windows but nothing's coming to mind."

The takeoff roll had been a particularly laborious affair. Cargo was never permitted to ride in front of passengers and combined with their baggage; the tailwheel was sluggish to lift from the runway. Not to mention the fuel load that would take them home to Lhasa had put them right under max takeoff weight. Luckily, Gunsa had a plentiful runway and Cole had been obliged to use a plentiful amount. He’d been pretty liberal on the throttles to get them climbed out safely and was sure the passengers probably didn’t appreciate the deafening sound of the turbo-props. From the cabin they were exceptionally loud, rhythmically churning under the heavy load, but climbing nonetheless.

Normally he enjoyed a challenging departure under heavy weight. Throw in a cross-wind, a dirt strip and a building snowstorm and he was right at home. The high altitude demanded a delicate touch on the controls or a pilot could find himself in a precarious situation rather quickly. This time though, he’d hardly said a word once again letting Xi handle all the call outs and watch the gauges. His face was stern as they came towards end of the departure procedure and as soon as they were clear with Gunsa control and under their own navigation, he handed the controls over to Xi and grabbed his clipboard. For about the fiftieth time since he’d swiped them off the dispatch printer, he began scanning the ship’s papers.

Pilots were naturally a superstitious lot and for Cole the day had far too much of the unexpected. As a bit of a student of aviation history he knew all the classics had been marked by little hiccups and doses of the unusual along the way that eventually culminated in total disaster: Tenerife, Pan Am 103, TWA 800, 9/11. His eyes looked over the cargo manifest. He’d taken on four heavy containers simply marked on the manifest as CG which meant, Chinese Government with a weight measurement. He’d hauled them before, but never more than one or two. The regular pilots just referred to them as “bricks” because no one ever knew what was in them and the load amounted to unknown dead weight. As the captain he could technically refuse any cargo he deemed unsafe, but thus far he’d never heard of any airman turning away the Chinese authorities.

He ran a hand over his face. What was even more unusual were some of the passengers. Some of them had been permitted to transport weapons. This was unheard of. If it hadn’t been for the containers he would have swiftly left them on the ramp at Gunsa. Sometimes one had to know when to keep his mouth shut though. He glanced up at their airspeed. Xi had them nestled into a speedy cruise. The young Chinaman may not have spoken perfect English, but as a flyer, he knew when something stunk. They would both be damn glad to reach Lhasa.

---

They had just about put two hours behind them when Cole accepted a cup of tea from the flight attendant. She was nice enough and not bad looking either. He was just into the first hot sips when the whole aircraft shuddered violently as if a great hand had just swatted their port side. The cup flew out of Cole’s hands and the horizon tilted unnaturally across the windshield. His hands were instantly on the controls before he could say, “What the fuck was that?!”

The aircraft rapidly began lurching harder to port with an ominous mechanical groan. The control yoke along with whole plane itself began shaking with turbulence. Cole found the elevators nearly unresponsive and he quickly abandoned all delicacy and hauled back hard on the column jamming the rudder pedals hoping to ease the downward sideslip of the nose. He was almost standing up in his seat under his belts looking comically as if he were trying to hold the whole weight of the plane in the air with shear brute force.

Directly above and dead-center of the overhead panel was the fire control panel and Cole instinctively glanced up at it. Only one red light was lit, AFT CRG the rear cargo bay next to the loading doors. Holy Shit, we’re on fire... He thought. Almost as soon as the thought ended he saw Xi’s fingers swiftly activate the fire suppression system.

“She’s too damn heavy!” Cole shouted. He knew his efforts were only slowing the inevitable if they didn’t do something, immediately. The nose was still dropping and the airspeed continued to increase. Once they accelerated past the maximum performance envelope the whole thing would fly apart before they hit the ground. “Dump the wing-tanks!” By some stroke of genius or accounting oversight, someone had ordered all the BT-67’s in the company with the very expensive fuel jettison feature. Using both hands simultaneously, Xi flipped back the safeties and mashed the switches forcefully. For a millisecond, Cole fleetingly hoped the fire suppression system had worked otherwise they were about to spray the flaming tail section with jet fuel.

After a few seconds the nose-dive started to ease enough that they began gradually losing some airspeed to drag, but were still descending and the Tibetan plateau was filling the windscreen rapidly. The whole aircraft continued to stubbornly slip to port forcing Cole to keep it countered with what was left of the rudder response and the ailerons. The wings lightened as they emptied their burden of fuel, but the elevator seemed to be immovable keeping them pointed towards the Earth. “We’re not going to get out of this dive.” He said grimly. “When we dip below one-twenty lower the gear and start dropping the flaps on my command.”

The BT-67 conversion process carried over the DC-3’s massive flap array which when fully deployed looked like a giant row of paneled doors hanging from beneath the wings. If a pilot dropped them too early on a normal approach they could raise the nose and muck up the landing. Since Cole knew his aircraft was only going to make one more landing, he planned to have Xi slow them with the first two notches on the flap control then dump the rest when they were right over the ground. God willing, they would belly-in instead of strike nose first. He hoped the landing gear would only help cushion the impact. Whatever the case, he knew if they hit too hard the belly fuel tanks, where fuel could not be jettisoned, would ignite and likely kill everyone that was still alive.

Both men tightened as the ground came up. Cole had pointed the nose at the best looking place he could manage. What appeared to be an ancient riverbed. For a moment he could see their shadow coming up to meet them like a dark wraith in waiting.

Xi faithfully dumped the flaps on command and the nose immediately rose above the horizon on an invisible cushion as the air flow under the wings was disrupted. Cole felt the port tire and gear strut hit first and for a moment it almost felt as if it would hold, but the hit was hard, very hard. The starboard tire contacted the ground right at the moment its portside counterpart failed and folded back under the wing and from that moment they were passengers along with everyone else.

Just hold together… Cole thought to himself. He still gripped the column as they rode out the belly strike. Every bolt, every screw, every gauge, every molecule in Cole’s body shook like nothing he’d ever felt. He waited for the fireball, but it didn’t come. Only more dirt and dust kicked up over the nose as they slid and after only a few short seconds, stopped in total silence.

Angelino noticed the shift to his side, when with his eyes looked in that direction he saw a woman. Not looking much better but alive and standing. She spoke to him carefully, looking a lot more collected than Angelino would guess any random person would be. He assumed her to be a doctor. Her question of if he was hurt adding to his believe.

"Just head. Taking it slow." He answered her cutting the my whole body feels like I played a punching bag. Concluding it wasnt life threatening, so it could be ignored. Something distracted her, maybe she spoted a more hurt person. More voices caught his attention.

"Thankfully, we're not alone." He hummed in argument. If more survived that is good. Maybe their rescues will get quick to them. Someone must notice them not arrive when it was planned and send out search parties. His head shoot with slight pain and dizziness. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, it helped.

"I'll be just a minute. I'll come right back!"

"Ok." He simply stated and once he felt some bit better. He decided to work on his belt. The thing that saved his life, even if it didnt stop him from hitting his head. He had a head to complain about it with. It wasnt too difficult to unstrap himself and with it free himself. He sat there for a moment before attempting to stand up using the seat in front of him as help. He wanted to get away from the dead lady beside him. It was bone chilling.

The vision darkened and spun but as quickly it begun it stopped. His knees shaking, but supporting him. He blamed the shaking at the situation he was in. Plain crash. He freaking survived a plane crash. He took a deep calming breath not noticing when the woman returned to his side. It was the ripping that made him blink and turn his head towards her. Seeing her in a bra. Before any embarrassment could catch up to him she used the strip she made to knot around his head.

"Thanks." The pressure around his head actually feeling good. He smiled at her to prove that he truly meant it. He stepped out from the seat and then he noticed the bloodied pant leg of the woman. "You are hurt worser than I am. You okay?" He questioned her, looking to the other side where two other people were... and a dog. The dog survived, it must be a lucky one.

"Have any idea where we are?" The other man asked. "Took a few looks outside the windows but nothing's coming to mind."

Angelinos tongue moved quicker than his mind managed to censor and stop that thought slipping away. "I hope we are still on planet earth in 21th century and in the right universum, if so we are most likely somewhere in Tibet. " The little voice in his mind, annoyingly groaned, he truly read too much of the fantasy and sci fi gender in his life. Especially if that was the first thing that pop into his mind. Like something like in those books would ever happen....well surviving a plane crush was on that list as well... and he just did that.

"Does anyone know if this plane has... a s.o.s. beacon or something?" He questioned instead looking up and being surprised to see his luggage was still tucked where he left it. Well at least he didnt lose the documents.

Cole slid down the side of the top hatch to the side of the plane. He had found the cabin door to be jammed shut, which was not a good sign at all. All in all, for those in the front of the plane, the landing wasn’t that bad comparatively. In fact, he was rather proud of the job he and Xi had done in setting her down. The two of them had walked away. Any landing you can walk away from… As the old flying adage went. He doubted some of the passengers would appreciate the sentiment though.

The plane itself was in better condition overall than he’d first thought. The emergency landing was as textbook as anyone could have asked for and they’d followed the procedures. Aviate, Navigate, Communicate. The third one he’d get to in time. The wings stuck up from the earth on both ends and the props were sadly peeled back like molted flowers over the still smoking turbines. He shook his head. What a bloody waste…. He thought. She had slid on her fuel weight in the belly once they hit pushing a decent mound of dirt and mud around the forward section of the aircraft. The tail section, the part he most wanted to examine was angled up in the air, still attached, but as he came around over the wing. He found what he had suspected.

The cargo loading doors were gone. The whole assembly was missing and completely blown off down to the hydraulic hinges. The stinking smell of the fluid was everywhere and was streaked down the side of plane past the rudder. One piece had struck the tail when it came off which had caused the jam in the elevator. The whole section was badly mauled. It was a wonder the tail had even stayed attached. If they’d lost it in the air there would have been no saving them. That was no consolation to the passengers though. Those in the back near where they had loaded the cargo had an especially rough go of it. He was both proud and ashamed at the same time.

The greasy aroma of jet fuel also mingled noticeably in the air from the open jettison valves which he stooped to investigate when he heard some voices from inside the cabin. He needed make sure no one lit one up in the joy of survival and blew them all to hell after what they’d just been through. Stranger things had happened.

“We’re about two-hundred miles west of Lhasa.” He said stepping up through the destroyed cargo bay and looking at those awake and alert. His voice was gruff as if he’d just pulled the aircraft over to make a stop at a rest area. “Our transponder and GPS are still active, but will only last as long the batteries." He said answering the question at hand. "We need to get everyone out of this aircraft as soon as possible until my first officer and I can check it over... And whatever you do," He said pausing briefly for effect. "Do not smoke around this aircraft."

"Have any idea where we are?"

'Somewhere in China,' she thought sarcastically to herself. Guy didn't seem like he'd be much help on any of this that they were about to face. The young girl from before had fallen silent, and Knowles started to wonder if she was okay. She had a lot of blood on her, but hadn't heard whether it was hers or her neighbor's. Knowles was suddenly surprised by the guy before her that she was helping as he began to speak in full sentences. 'That's a good sign,' she thought. Pulling her torn up shirt back over her head to cover herself back up, slipping her sweatshirt and jacket as well to get warm again. It was quite chilly throughout the cabin, now.

"I hope we are still on planet earth in 21th century and in the right universum, if so we are most likely somewhere in Tibet."

... he was right. From where they'd taken off, to how far they'd traveled, they would have crash landed somewhere in the very wilderness he spoke of.

"Does anyone know if this plane has," his hesitation told Knowles he probably hadn't watched many movies of crash landings, or actually been in one before, for the matter. Or maybe he was just still shaken up from the whole incident, she couldn't tell, "-an S.O.S. beacon, or something?"

Almost immediately following his question, a semi-familiar voice sprang up. The pilot. “We’re about two-hundred miles west of Lhasa.” He stepped through the wreck, looking towards the lot that were barely conscious themselves. He didn't look so good but somehow seemed to look quite a bit better than the rest. “Our transponder and GPS are still active, but will only last as long as the batteries allow." The pilot continued, answering all of our questions almost at once. "We need to get everyone out of this aircraft as soon as possible until my first officer and I can check it over... And whatever you do," he seemed to pause as if they were standing there doing a movie shoot. Dramatic effect. "Do not smoke around this aircraft." As much as Knowles kind of wanted to smack him for the Captain Obvious demand he had, she couldn't really argue. Some people just didn't have common sense these days.

Knowles huffed a slight laugh and rolled her eyes, turning back to the guy she'd helped to tenderly touch the top of his head before she moved on to find her belongings in the mess surrounding where she had been sitting. Coyote sat in the middle of the isle, sitting nearly right on top of her duffle bag. But where was her carry-on? Knowles grit her teeth rather frustratingly, picking things up and tossing them out of her way, even gently moving a couple of the deceased to see if they hadn't fallen on top of her back. Struggling to move a fairly heavy-set gentleman out of her way, to her luck, there it was. Although smeared with blood, Knowles ignored the fact and reached into the back concealed pouch to retrieve her Beretta. Pulling up the back of her shirt, Knowles stuffed the handgun into the waistband of her jeans, covering it back up as she snatched her duffle bag up to wander back over towards the shy guy. She'd managed to carry both her carry-on and duffle bag with ease, knowing at some point she'd have to get into the duffle bag to get rid of some excess weight. Reaching the guy, she grabbed a hold of the bag he'd been eyeing above his seat before, holding it out towards him. "As the captain said, we need to leave. Grab whatever you need." Looking back at the other man, she called over the loud noise of both the wind and what sounded like a fire somewhere on the plane. "You heard the man, let's go!" Knowles looked over at Coyote and whistled, "Git!" Coyote bolted out of the plane without hesitation, causing Kenna to grin a little bit.

The pilot, god thanks. The pilot surviving was great. They were trained for such situation, right? He leaned on the seat for support and was listening to what the man was saying. For a few moments he felt his vision dance but he pushed that to the side, focusing on deep breaths. They had to leave the plane. The warmth of the cabin was slowly leaking outside and was replaced with the cold. The woman turned to him, and he gave a small nod.
He gave her a affirming nod that he was okay, watching her then go off to most likely get her own stuff. If they had to leave the plain that would be most logical do... He hoped it was. Plus he didnt want to lose the documents he worked so hard on... Just thinking about that made him feel horrible idiotic...to worry about such things after a plane crash... Silly... He rubbed his head, his mind started to wander instead of focusing. He simply stood there instead of getting to move. The woman must have noticed it as she took his suitcase out from over his seat where it survived offering it to him.

"As the captain said, we need to leave. Grab whatever you need."

"Indeed. We do." Angelino moved to the side picking his carry on bag as well. Slining that one over his shoulder. They had to leave, his nose twitched as he became more aware of a strong smell. Which didnt bore good news, especially not combined with no fire please. He passed by the the other well passengers... and stopped. He couldnt help it.

"Lets check if anyone else is alive but... unconscious before we leave. Can you two help? It will go faster." He asked them before he turned to the other side of isles and leaned over two young people who hold hands. He desperately wanted to get away from all the blood but he couldnt leave in good continues if he wasnt sure they didnt left anyone behind. SO he shock both bodies and remembering first help from his driver lessons searched for puls.
He did this for several seats, but all were dead. Some seats were empty as they passengers were on the floors. Angelino slowly knee down to check the young teen and when he saw a horrible looking gash on his neck and eyes wide open he left the plane. His head spun and pained at moments, the motions not feeling the best, and he felt as emptying his stomach again. Retching but not having anything to in his stomach anymore he stood just few steps outside the plane wreck. He never saw so many dead people. The cold air actually feeling good against his
nausea.

He moved few steps more away and turned to look at it. Refocusing and breathing. He counted his heartbeats feeling how they slowed down. He waited out not knowing what to do now. He spotted the pilot and gave a wave to gain the man attentions. "Now what do we do? "

The goth raised her lip a bit and scoffed at the man. She just turned and shook her head. She had been in a car wreck before, a small one but the shock is the same. She was surprised how quick these people started back up with being their annoying selves, maybe they were trained for it or they were just born with the ability to deal with the situation. Even in the little car wreck it took ten minutes for her hands to stop shaking and about an hour for her brain to function properly again. She just looked around the cabin, dumbfounded as she took it all in. She walked slightly down the hallway and looked around, peering out one of the windows. The inspection gave her little information, just a bunch of moving white specs. For all she knew they had landed on a channel with no signal.

Kiki ignored all the chatter around her. She walked slowly to a couple a few seats down, who seemed to be simply sleeping. She crouched by them and looked up at their peaceful faces. Her hand touched their clammy skin then followed down their plump cheeks to their neck. Nothing. She just crouched there a moment and looked at them. The aeroplane had to have an AED. Most of these people could be saveable if their brain still had oxygen, hell they might be in severe shock. She slowly began to stand as a voice broke through her consciousness.

“We’re about two-hundred miles west of Lhasa. Blah blah blah GPS stuff still active blah blah blah get off the aircraft as soon as possible and don't be an idiot,"

Well, something along those lines. She picked up on the important stuff from the man who was rather obviously the flying bus driver. She looked around at the stuff around her and realised that she hadn’t seen her backpack. It wasn’t much bigger than a purse so they allowed her to not only take it on, but keep it in her lap/under her seat. She grimaced as she stepped over Dr.Jones and landed on the floor in front of in her seat. She scooped her backpack from under the chair and off the sticky floor and looked out the window again. It was already getting colder and she wasn’t even outside yet. She looked for her thin airline-provided blanket, but it was caked with blood and other spilled fluids. It would do her no good.
Defeated, she slung her backpack over shoulder and ducked back out into the tight hallway. She squeezed her way down it, tiptoeing around everything until she was back at the front.
“Mister uh, Pilot man?” she realised too late that didn’t know how to address him, “Whatever. Anyway, should we get out the like, luggage? Like with all of our stuff in it. Mine has some...corrosive material and it may leak if it’s broken…” she had the urge to noisily chew gum but unfortunately she had none.

The lady scoffed at him. Isaac raised a brow and felt a little deflated at her reaction. Was it something he said? Or was it his demeanor? It reminded him of his first combat experience. He stood in the middle of the road drawing a blank as 7.62 zipped by inches from his face. His team leader had to pull him down, dragged him to a ditch, and literally punched him in his face to get him focused. From then on it was like a switch. Zero in on the situation, get a handle on what you're doing, and vomit later when everything is over. Surviving a plane crash and seeing all the dead gave the survivors the jitters. It was incredibly understandable. Hell, once the high of surviving a damn place crash goes down, Isaac would be vomiting outside the plane in droves.

It was suggested to see if anyone else was still alive. There was doubt that anyone other than those present were breathing. But it never hurt to check. He had retained everything that taught him in his combat lifesaver course (CLS), that, and actually doing the steps in theatre helped him a lot too. Rmember the MARCH acronym! Massive hemorrhaging, airway, respiratory, circulation, and hypothermia. Doing those in order would take too much time. Why not skip to circulation?

For every body he checked that was deceased, Isaac marked an "X" on the forehead. Every unit is different, and had different SOPs (Standard Operating Procedure), but for his, marking a body with an "X" meant the person in question was without a doubt deceased. It looked insensitive, and in some cultures may be considered desecrating a body, but it told everyone around that this person is no longer among the living, and there is nothing else to be done. The survivors on the plane sounded like an intelligent bunch, hopefully they would pick up on the marks and ignore those with black Xs.

"Man, there isn't much left here," mumbled Isaac to himself. It was disheartening looking at all these lost lives. Each person had a family, was someone's child, lover, spouse, sibling, so many stories gone.

Interacting with @Azaria Blue, Kiki Williams & @TalijaKey, Angelino Fabbro

Cole regarded the proceedings grimly as the living departed the plane. When he’d told those that were able to disembark, most of them seem to think that meant that they were going somewhere, which they were, but he had to break the truth to them in as delicate a way as he was capable, though he was not particularly known for his eloquence. Training would normally dictate that the aircraft be used as a shelter and survivors were to stay with the wreck if at all possible. With the exception of the tail section, the plane was not a total write-off and sat very cantankerously on its remaining fuel weight where it had plowed up the ground after the main gear failed. The scene reminded him of the big styrofoam gliders he used fling at his grandparents’ house as a child. They’d soar for dozens and dozens of yards before landing nose down, tail up, just like this one. For brief millisecond he could feel the humidity of in-land North Florida where he’d grown up before a gust of wind and a question brought is his mind to the present.

Now what do we do?

Cole looked at the man. He was abnormally tall with a makeshift bandage wrapped around his head. “Just sit down and try to relax for the time being.” He said with a greater inflection of confidence than he’d thought himself capable. He realized that training was carrying him mentally and those expensive ETI courses he’d taken before hadn’t been for naught. Keeping up the morale of those that had survived could be as important as food and shelter. “Once the first officer and I have checked over the aircraft we’re going to inventory everything we have that’s useable.” Calorie preservation would be important and they’d have to ration what they had which meant only the able-bodied needed to participate in the inventory. A head injury could mean any number of things and he didn’t want the man passing out. “So sit tight, I’m going to talk to everyone before we get started.”

He glanced down at his clipboard which held a copy of the day’s weather reports for the area. Snow flurries overnight, getting colder. Maintaining everyone’s core body temperature would be the first priority. Another voice chimed for his attention:

Mister uh, Pilot man? A female voice inquired. Whatever. Anyway, should we get out the like, luggage? Like with all of our stuff in it. Mine has some...corrosive material and it may leak if it’s broken…

He looked in her direction and then down a bit following the voice to its short statured, oddly colored source. The words corrosive materials took his attention and he flipped back some of the pages from his clipboard to the cargo manifest. He seemed to remember seeing it when they’d taken off from Gunsa. It was nothing out of the ordinary for him to haul hazardous materials, but since they were now crash-landed she brought up a valid concern. His eyes scanned from behind his sunglasses. The manifest indeed marked it as hazardous, but the amount was fairly small. The loaders had marked the case with yellow tape. “You must be Kiki.” He said in a similar tone as he’d addressed the other man. Her name was next to entry on the manifest. “If it’s still on board we’ll get it out asap.”

He glanced back to the cargo door where the others were making their way out of the plane and in retrospect realized he hadn’t at all needed the extra seating. There had been enough space for most everyone to choose their seat. A grim lottery the victims had been unaware of when they boarded. He carefully regarded the woman with the dog as they left the wreck. She was the weapon carrier, Knowles, McKenna Avery, and had a small arsenal connected to her according to the manifest. Part of him wondered if she was some kind of mercenary, but the crippled dog that tagged around with her seemed to dispel that suspicion to some extent. He privately resolved to keep an eye on her.

“I’m going speak to everyone before we get started.” He said to Kiki. “Do me a favor and keep an eye on this gentleman over here.” He said nodding towards Angelino.

“You must be Kiki.” He said all formal, not looking up from his stupid clipboard, “If it’s still on board we’ll get it out asap.”
She gave a quick curtsey, bending her leg behind herself. ”That would be me,” she said coolly.
“I’m going speak to everyone before we get started. Do me a favor and keep an eye on this gentleman over here.” He said before gesturing toward someone. She followed his gaze to a guy with a far away look in his eye and a cloth wrapping around his head. Was he there the whole time? She must be just as out of it. She crossed her arms and looked over to him.
”Hurt anywhere?” she said as she put her hip to the side, ”Besides the head, I mean.”

Angelino didn’t follow the advice the pilot gave him about sitting down. He felt shaken but he opted to stand. His thoughts were interrupted by a female voice, he smiled a bit at her. “Was lucky enough not to get any other injuries.” He shifted his bag and offered his hand for a shake. “Angelino Fabbro. What about you? In one piece?”

”Kiki,” she said plainly, lifting her sweater a bit to show the bruises across her midsection, ”Bruised, but nothing’s broken,” she pulled her sweater back down then wiggled her finger, signaling for him to bend over to her level. ”Cut on your head will bleed like a motherfucker,” she shivered slightly at the wind on her back, she should have worn more layers. ”It looks a lot worse than it is. If you start feeling sleepy, tell me,”

Angelino made a small wince when Kiki showed him her bruises, knowing with time they will get more color probably. “I noticed the amount of bleeding was a lot.” He leaned a bit down allowing the pink head to check the bandage around his head. “Are you a doctor? And I don’t feel sleepy. That is the last thing on my mind now.” He took a small breath, still feeling more or less fine with the chilly temperature. “The plane crash is higher on my priority list of topics to think about.” He glanced at his watch which survived and was still ticking away in the three time zones.

“Not yet,” she chimed, reaching up to check the bandage, ”That’s good, means you don’t have a concussion,” it was wrapped like a field dressing. It would do him fine for a few hours but it would need to be replaced and the wound may need to be cleaned. She looked up at the guy then turned away, ”You’ll be just fine,” she said plainly. She looked around through the eye-blinding snow as she stepped out, keeping her arms crossed tightly against her chest then sat down some meters away on a rock. Kiki was always annoyed and yet fascinated about how well snow dampened sound, almost feeling like they were in a bubble. ”Come, sit. Warmer together,” she requested, her rump complaining about the cold, wet surface but they both needed to sit.

He righted himself back up, as Kiki declared he will be fine. “Kind of lucky two doctors or at least to ladies with medical knowledge survived.” He commented more to himself than to Kiki, watching her sit down. He tilted his head for a moment before he moved his fingers in the air as if he was counting something and then opened the suitcase he dragged with him outside. He pulled a nice looking jacket which was more than obviously part of a business suit and put it without a word around the smaller woman. He closed it up and sat beside her then. “Sorry should have thought of it earlier. ” Angelino rubbed the bandage in an apologetic gesture. “On a side note I like you hair color reminds me of a friend from college. Last I saw her she was going for platinum.”

Kiki soon found herself bundled. She figured he’d not accept giving it back so she spread it across both of their shoulders, ”It’s not that special. Have you taken a first aid class before?” she truly wondered how anyone could live their life without knowing how to dress a wound. She guessed that is was common for some, maybe the indoorsy type.

“I did when I was doing my driver exam. But those lessons aren’t known for their quality.” He summed up accepting the gesture of sharing the jacket. He gave a small chuckle even if it sounded a bit cynical. “And no one in those classes covered airplane crashes….At least I have a story to tell my boy when I get home.” As he spoke that he once more looked at his watch. One finger tapping on it before he looked up and back at his conversation partner.

She grinned with half of her mouth, ”Yeah, I know what you mean,” she looked down at her feet, the blackness of her shoes being covered with flakes of snow, ”You have a kid? Also, why is your friend mining platinum? Is she in engineering or development or something?” it felt strange to be this talkative but it just felt right for some reason. Something to calm her nerves and let her know that the world is still going as it does.

“The best little mess maker there is. Daniel is six years will start school the following September.” He spoke much happier, as if simple thinking or having the reason to think about his boy already shifted his world into a better place. “He stays with his mother. ” And Angelino's voice lost a bit on the drive it had just seconds before. “ My friend she isn't exactly mining platinum. She sells crystals and does chi and aromatherapy. She dyed her hair a color she called platinum. She tried a lot of colors. Always complained how she couldn't find the shade that would show off her vibration.” Angelino filled the silence, one could see it on his face that he was wondering how strange it must sound to a mundane and business looking person to talk about spiritual things.

The guy next to her visibly perked up. She seemed to have succeeded in distracting both of them, ”That’s sweet, maybe you’ll be invited for show and tell one day and you can tell about crashing in a plane and meeting someone made of cotton candy,” she looked up and raised an eyebrow, ”Your friend sounds...interesting to say the least. It’s not easy to find colors that work well with you,” she had heard of these types of people, usually in rural places and in tribes. They seemed to be more superstitious in general, but she supposed that there had to be one or two in regular society that thought so. For example, ghost hunters had such a following that they made a TV show out of it. She just looked up at the sky, the snow clouding her eyelashes, ”I guess any religion is just trying to find purpose, so it would make slightly more sense to believe in physical objects,” she attempted to rationalise.

“ You make the plane crash sound like a children story. Next, we get pointed to shelter by a care bear.” He added as Kiki referred to her pink hair, it did look like cotton candy, now he couldn’t unsee that. He followed her look up to the sky and moved a bit closer the bit of adrenaline that must have carried him till now diminishing allowing him to feel the cold a bit more realistically. “I believe. In what exactly I am not so sure...” He looked back down to his knees. It was quite a wonder to be alive, even bigger to be alive after today. They turned a few moments later as they heard someone else leaving the plane, the creak of metal sounding through the snow.

Kenna dismissed the pilot's need for grouping together for a pep talk and the suggestion to sit down. Not with the way her head had been feeling, but she wouldn't let anyone on to that. She knew just how to act to make it seem like she was okay, Kenna always had such major control over herself with even the worst of wounds bothering her. She however heard inventory was needed to be inspected, perking her interest to help out, suddenly. "Let me find my luggage pack and I'll help you with that, sir." Making her way back to the cargo hold, Kenna twisted the latch open and yanked the door ajar, immediately spotting her bag. Grabbing the damned thing, she pulled it closer to her and knelt down to dig through it. Grabbing out the two loaded mags, shoving one of them up into her Tavor SAR-16, then unfolded and locked her Kel-Tec SU-16B into place, repeating the same step. Sliding the Kel-Tec strap over her shoulder, she picked out a single set of clothes she could wear, a new shirt to change into, her notebooks and the two extra empty mags with a couple ammo boxes to accompany them.. shoving all but the shirt she'd brought out to change in to her carry-on. She wouldn't need the rest, and she knew that. The plane didn't have enough on it to sustain them till help arrived, if it did at all. Things like this were easy for Kenna to get through, she'd done it a couple of times back in the day. This would be no different.

Returning to the front of the plane, Kenna saw the pink haired female and the man she'd previously helped getting warm together, exchanging conversation. It was good to see from the both of them, it meant they didn't sustain terrible injuries that would have most definitely knocked them out again by now. Kenna on the other hand was having issues standing straight, but refused to let herself sit down. Shit had to get done. She made her way passed the ethnically mixed man, stopping a few feet away to turn and watch him continue going over the bodies marking x's on the deceased people's foreheads. Her lips formed a hard, thin line as she witnessed him do this, taking a slight offense to it but decided not to speak on it. She knew it would help in the long run, but felt it highly disrespectful to do such a thing, instead, tried to ignore it. Kenna knelt down to a child she noticed slumped over in their seat with the upper half of their, one could only assume, parent's body collapsed over them. Most likely to shield the poor child in hopes of survival, for at least one of them.

First, Kenna checked the adult but quickly moved on to check the child's pulse when she found none on the parent. Kenna's heart dropped. There was a pulse. Almost in a panic, she immediately pushed the parent's shielding body off the child and sat the dirty-blond boy up in his seat, looking him over. "We got another live one, over here. Child. Seat 9, Row J," she called out towards the Pilot up front. The poor boy was out cold. Releasing his seat belt, Kenna gently tapped the boy's cheek a few times to attempt waking him. "Hey there, buddy. Can you hear me? Come on, bud. Wake up." It wasn't much longer before the boy's eyes fluttered open, his expression quite confused as he looked around the inside of the plane. That is, until he found himself looking over at his bloody, motionless father beside him, in which he screamed out indefinitely, scrambling away from the lifeless body in which he broke down into immediate tears.

"Daddy! The boy screamed, his whole body language proved to those around him in the room that he was conflicted. Would he stay away or rush to try waking him? Before he could make a decision, Kenna gently grabbed up the young boy with her left arm barred over his chest and the other beneath his legs to put him in a sit position in her grasp. The small boy kicked and screamed, screaming for his father all the while Kenna quietly 'shhhh'd him repeatedly to try and calm him down. She realized the time he'd began thrashing about in her arms, he seemed to cradle his right arm against his chest. Kenna decided to focus his attention on that. "Hey, hey hey hey.. buddy. Easy, now." Gently, Kenna sat the boy down in an empty seat in the front row far away from where his lifeless parent was, waiting till he looked her in the eye, still sniffling and hyperventilating. His eyes were forced into slits, which was probably due to his growing headache he had to have had by now from a possible concussion and crying to add to it.

Kenna tucked her hair behind her ear and gently shifted the gun strapped over her shoulder, looking back into the little boy's eyes. "Hey there. Are you hurting anywhere besides here?" she gestured to his lower stomach where his seat belt had been, knowing full well he'd have some kind of bruising there from the impact. The boy nodded slowly, tenderly holding his arm up an inch above where it'd been laying before. "Well, I used to be a doctor in the military back in the day. Mind if I take a look at your arm? Might hurt a little, but it's best we check out what's wrong with your arm now before it gets hurt worse, okay?" His slow nod assured her it was alright as she began to gently squeeze his arm as she ran her hands over his little arm, pulling her hand away when he lets out a tiny cry. There was a fairly large lump protruding from his forearm, it had to be broken.

Interacting with @A Tattooed Girl, McKenna Avery Knowles

A few thoughts bolted through Cole’s head at first sight of McKenna and her discovery. It seemed bizarre, as he first stepped into the cabin section that someone had apparently taken the time to mark the deceased. The images instantly disgusted him and his lips pursed tightly as his gaze scanned toward the woman and the child who had apparently been missed by their life or death notice agent. “What the fuck is wrong with people…” He mumbled. Before taking notice of the young survivor, Cole immediately locked on to the fact that his rescuer had already retrieved part of her weapons cache and donned it very nonchalantly. He was piecing things together fairly efficiently in his head, but decided to hold his tongue in front of the child. However, he doubted the other passengers would share in his consideration. She seemed to have good rapport in her tone with him and mentioned that she had once been a doctor in the “military”. Who the hell knows what that means. He thought to himself. Guess we’ll find out soon enough.

Still ignoring the weapons, Cole knelt down next to the pair as she did her work on his arm. “Just hang on buddy.” He said in as patriarchal a tone as he could summon. He was a flyer, not a fighter. Blood and gore were not his forte and as his eyes scanned around he had to fight a certain sense of revulsion particularly with the sight of those marked with the “X”. They were his passengers. He knew the image would probably never leave him.

Being honest with himself, Cole was weary of speaking with her, but other than Xi, he felt instinctively that she was the most competent person that had survived among the passengers. He ran a hand over his face and shifted the tired old hat on his head a little to scratch around his brow before turning so that his voice projected away from the child’s hearing. “When you finish up here and take him out, I want you to take a good look at that cargo door and the rear of the plane.” He said very calmly.