Asslamu Alykum Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuhu,
The story is dedicated to Muslim_Ink whose campaign of the "Islamic Short Story Contest' inspired me to write it.
It's a way for me to show them my support of the great work they're doing, rather than just taking part in a competition.
And this is also my very first attempt at writing a story so a little consideration on grammar/spelling/ word usage by the readers would be highly appreciated.^_^
The story revolves around some pretty sensitive subjects so I'd request you guys to keep an open mind while reading. [I've done my fare share of research on these issues, so I can say with confidence (InshaaAllah) that no incident portrayed here is out of the ordinary]
Last but not the least, not a single character/situation/statement/observation stated here was written with the intention to offend any person of any belief or principle. It's purely fictional and a product of my imagination. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
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It was nearly midnight when the passengers of airplane KP-41 were passing over the Congo Basin rain forest area on their way to Bangui (Capital of Central African Republic) from Kinshasa (Capital of DR Congo). From there, majority of them would catch a flight outside the Continent. The weather was serene and the wind, tranquil.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash followed by the distinct smell of burnt machinery. Wasifa was just starting to doze off when she jolted awake to find frantic people inquiring about the commotion that just took place and was far from subsiding. From what she could gather from all the anxious tones and the mechanical voices of the pilot that floated through the speakers, the main engine had collapsed due to some mechanical dysfunction. The plane was rapidly spiraling out of control and they were going to have to make a crash landing. The horror of the impending doom sent the passengers into fits of hysterics.
Although just as scared for her life as the next person on the plane, Wasifa willed herself to remain calm. She clutched the seat in front of her in a death grip and began to pray. She asked for mercy, forgiveness and salvation from the Almighty.
The plane hit the ground with the fierce force of momentum that it gained and the face of her little angel was the last thing that flashed in her mind just before she fell into total oblivion.
When she finally gained full consciousness, it seemed like a couple of hours had passed. Wasifa felt a throbbing, dull headache and she was having difficulty to breathe. She was stuck between two seats from which she desperately tried to disentangle herself, but to no avail. She was seated in the left aisle where the damage, she noted, was less severe. Finally after putting much effort, she managed to draw the attention of some the passengers who were fortunate enough to find their way out of the wrecked aircraft.
As soon as her feet touched the ground a nauseating smell of burnt metal and the metallic scent of blood assaulted her nostrils. People were scattered around the place in total disarray. After taking in her surroundings, she found that they had indeed, landed in the rain forest area of Central Congo. So far away from civilization and without any means of communication, they were truly and utterly alone.
Wasifa's foremost thought was to express profound gratitude to Allah (swt) for the mercy He bestowed upon her by keeping her nearly unharmed through this devastating ordeal. She earnestly prayed that the rest of the people were blessed with the same fortune as her. But she had yet to find out. So she collected her back-pack which fortunately, survived the crash more undamaged than herself and rummaged through it to gather her surgically equipped first aid kit. Being an emergency trauma surgeon, she always had to keep that at her disposal. Then she set out to survey the situation.
And the scenery she met with was enough to send a nauseating effect through her system. A hundred years in the trauma fields couldn't have prepared her for those horrific images displayed before her. As the plane hit the ground head-first, the entire part of the cock-pit took the majority of the blow. Resulting in the instantaneous death of the pilot and the two co-pilots. The first two-three rows were completely destroyed along with the passengers seated there. Wasifa spared herself the gruesome details by looking away. She had to have a clear head if she wanted to be of help to the surviving people.
The people from the middle row and the right aisle were injured the most and they were in need of immediate medical attention. Anxiety disconcerted her nerves when she thought about the amount medical equipment they had at their disposal was so scarce compared to their requirement.
Wasifa had to be rather careful when making her way towards the clearing in the forest where all the survivors gathered. The earth was muddy and slippery from the aftermath of the recent rainfall. It was still quite dark outside as the sun had yet to announce its presence. Surrounded by massive number of colossal trees and unknown amount of tropical species that lurked behind the shadows and with no significant amount of food or drinking water, it appeared that they were fighting a losing battle. Only her sheer faith in Allah (swt) was playing the role of the driving force that kept her determined in her goal.
When she reached the clearing, she noticed several fires had been lit and also spotted a number of people sitting on the bigger rocks scattered around. Some stood assessing their surroundings. There were people from diverse cultures and nationalities, whites, blacks, Asians, Middle-Eastern. But the one thing that they all had in common in that instant was the hopeless, disheveled look on their faces that bespoke of the gravely tribulation they currently faced.
After some exchange of introduction, Wasifa rolled up her Abaya sleeves, re-adjusted her Hijab and set to work with the help of some less injured people who came forward to volunteer. She patched up dressed the wounds and minor cuts as best as she could under the circumstances and prayed that they received any form of help or assistance before any of those wounds got infected. Even a simple bacterial infection could be a cause of death if not treated immediately.
Wasifa's usual line of work consisted of assisting the other female trauma surgeons in the fields of the movement seized area of the Provincial Capital of Goma. Her work required her to travel all over Africa in order to provide emergency medical services. So she was fairly trained to deal with a situation like this, where there were fewer medical supplies than the amount of injuries. A year ago she was stationed in the state of West-Sudan. From there she was transferred to the Democratic Republic of Congo less than three months ago. And tonight she was on her way to the United States, where her family resided currently, for a much delayed visit.
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