Fallen

Chapter Twenty

I was stupid. So, so stupid.

Tears had long since dried on my face and my body ached from sobbing. I'd hoped if I was in this sort of situation I wouldn't have cried like a tiny baby, but here I was. Sobbing and not being able to stop for hours.

The men in the plane kept their distance. Probably because I had punched and kicked many of them. I, shamelessly, bit one of them when his hand went to my mouth to silence my screaming. In doing that, a bandana was forced into my mouth. Another bandana wrapped the first one around my head, gagging me. The bandana tasted retched, I tried my best to ignore the combination of dirt, sweat, and what could be urine.

They had gagged me back in York. Only minutes after they shot Wong. The gag remained where it was, even after they pulled me through the city and on to a boat to reach the island to where the plane was. We left York hours ago and the taste of the bandana wasn't any better.

"You said there would be lights soon." The leader, Murphy, shot the pilot. I could not see Murphy standing near the cockpit. My view was the few chairs on the other side of the walkway and a Raider sleeping in one.

When I got on the plane, they forced me down to the floor between seats. My hands were handcuffed to the first chair in the row. They must have done that intentionally because there were two seats in the row and my back could not reach the wall of the plane. My back had long since grown sore with nothing to lean against other than to the side against the chair I was handcuffed to. I could not stretch my legs out because when I did I was painfully kicked by a Raider, who ordered me back into my spot.

"It is almost morning, we should have been to Denver hours ago," Murphy spat. His voice sent shivers down my spine. I heard about Murphy. The Raider leader, the man who ripped off Mel's fingernail. Another shutter tore through my body. I was in the hands of a monster. If he could remove a fingernail, he could do far worse things. And if we were heading to Denver... Ben spoke of Denver and it was horrible.

"I have to fly lower due to the weight on this plane," the pilot shot back. "I told you there are too many on board."

I didn't get a glimpse of the pilot but he sounded angry whenever Murphy talked to him and he had a good reason to be. He was kidnapped from Vegas and forced to fly to York from what I gathered. It was a guess, but the angry pilot bitterly commented earlier about how he was forced to fly to York. If he was in the same situation as I was, we could help each other.

"Is that - is that the ocean?" Murphy asked.

"Yes, it is," the pilot said. I could tell it in his voice he was proud. Proud of what, I did not know.

"You brought us to the Pacific Ocean?" Murphy's voice was low and deadly. "We are hundreds of miles away from Denver. Turn around."

"No."

"Turn around or I will shoot."

"You can't shoot me, you do not know how to fly a plane."

"Well, it can't be that hard."

The gunshot was deafening. The plane shuttered beneath me, followed by it dropping. A feeling of weightlessness took hold of me, my body lifting off of the cold floor. Across the walkway, the Raider who was sleeping was elevated off his chair and he woke in a fright.

There was shouting around me. I could not see the front, but Murphy must have grabbed on to the steering wheel or whatever that flies a plane. My body returned to the floor with a thud. "Hang on," Murphy called back.

Stupid. He was stupid thinking he could fly a plane. I was dead. I was going to die in this plane because of that idiot.

The nose of the plane dropped in the air. Knew that when my body slammed into the seat in front of me. Weightlessness took a hold of my body again. My stomach was doing flips at the sensation. There was no way I could be sick. Not with the gag. I pushed the nausea down.

The plane stabilized again but only for a second. "Hold on to something!" someone yelled.

We picked up speed, hurtling towards the earth.

There was no way I would survive. There was no way. My body found enough moisture and tears wetted my cheeks. I made myself as small as I could.

Murphy had to be struggling to keep the plane somewhat even as we fell. I could feel the plane pull up every few seconds. Why was he trying? We were going to die anyway.

Without a warning, the plane hit something. Looking up at the windows I saw tree branches instead of the sky. My body smacked against the chairs as we hit the trees. The crashing of the leaves against the body of the plane was deafening. My brain rattled in my skull with the vibrations.

The plane crashed against something, forcing us to stop dead. A Raider flew forward toward me, he smacked into the chairs I was handcuffed to. The chairs were pushed down to crush me and upon impact, the metals legs of the chair cracked. Before I was crushed the chair stopped when it hit the chair before me.

Silence covered the plane, the only sound was the ringing in my ears. The metal leg that my hands were handcuffed to was broken. I slipped my hands down, freeing myself. My fingers pulled the bandana down, at last liberating my mouth from the foul fabric. Keeping low, I went to the edge of the seats looking toward the cockpit. None of the men moved, they laid motionless on the ground or over the chairs.

Now was my chance to get out of here. Taking my odds out there in the Wasteland was better in here with Murphy. The door to the plane was kitty-corner from where I was. Moving as quietly as I could in case one of the men was still conscious, I crouched to the plane hatch. I pulled at the handle with my handcuffed hands. For a moment, the handle didn't budge. I pulled harder and the handle moved, my body crashed back into a chair, my shoulder hitting something. The thing fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Looking down, I hit a large rifle that now laid at my feet.

A movement caught my eye from the cockpit. Looking to the spot, Murphy had his eyes on me. "Get her!" he yelled. Across his body were pieces of the plane that broke due to the crash, he tried to push the heavy metal away.

I ran to the door and opened it, I paused for a moment. The plane was stuck in the trees, there was a good ten-foot drop.

"Get her!" Murphy called again and I jumped.

My body falling to the ground. There wasn't enough time for me to think how stupid it was for me to jump before I hit the forest floor. No dead leaves or tall grass protected my fall, there was only dirt. The full force of my weight fell on my right leg.

Pain spread through my body, my ankle screaming in pain. A part of my mind forced myself to stand up and to run. To run anywhere as long as it was far away from the plane.

Each step on my right foot, I wanted to scream in pain but I kept running. Around me was a forest but it wasn't a forest. It was dead, the trees were skeletons. It was not at all green and pretty like back at home.

My eyes turned back to where I was running and I saw a figure. I blinked again, a man stood yards away, in one hand was a bow and arrow. His lips were moving, it looked like he was shouting at me but I couldn't hear anything, only the ringing in my head. With his free hand, he pointed to my right. I looked in that direction.

A thick, dead branch swung at me, it smashed against my head.

The impact was harsh enough my body crashed to the ground. Another hit from the branch and my mind fell into endless darkness.