𝑺𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒔 | r. slivko

07. aftermath

Yelping in surprise, I fall to the ground through the right-side doors of the turned helicopter, landing on broken branches, thick leaves, and stray shards of shrapnel and broken glass. The adrenaline surge from my sudden freedom keeps me from feeling new sources of pain as I crawl to my feet. I stare up at the opposite side of the chopper where I'll have to climb up to in order to escape it.

"Delilah?"

A scared voice says my name from somewhere outside the chopper– no– from the cockpit.

"Someone?!" the voice calls again, this time, louder and panicked.

My eyes widen in recognition when I finally see Slivko through the opening between the two pilot-seats.

"Bandana?"

The left chair that he was strapped into is collapsed on top of the right – I can't crawl through to reach him.

Slivko cranes his head to glance at me, momentarily. His eyes soften from fear to almost-relief before he looks away. "I'm stuck," he says.

"Try loosening the seatbelt," I suggest. "I can't get through here, I'll have to clim–"

"–No," he says, panic rising again. "Not my seatbelt– I already undid it. My leg."

I try to stick my head through the narrow opening to get a better look. It isn't until now that I realize Slivko isn't tangled in the seatbelt like I was – he'd already unbuckled, fallen to the ground, and his left leg is now caught between the two pilot seats at some weird angle.

"Oh," I say. "Shit."

He chuckles breathily. I can tell that he's internally freaking the heck out, because I kind of am too.

"I'll get you out," I say.

"Promise? Are you sure you're not just gonna ditch me and leave me for dead?"

I laugh, releasing my nervous energy. "Promise. I'm not gonna ditch you, Bandana."

He smiles and I grin back. And then I smirk: "That doesn't mean I don't want to."

Jeeze. Of all the people I could've gotten stuck with, I get Bandana Boy.

I look up at the hole in the chopper, and study the floor and ceiling that surround me, trying to scale a way up and out. I figure I can try to get Slivko's leg out if I can get into the cockpit for a closer look.

Carefully, I begin my ascent, using anything I can stick my feet on and the straps of seatbelts to pull myself up. Finally, my hand reaches the top – well, technically the side – of the overturned chopper. I swing a leg over the side and sit for a moment, getting my bearings on the jungle that surrounds the smoking chopper.

"Uh.. Miss Writer Lady?" Slivko calls from below.

"Coming."

I hear him sigh in relief. "Good."

Carefully crawling over the side of the chopper, I realize the only way to get into the cockpit at this point is by smashing through the glass on the front windshield. Slowly, I begin to lower my body off of the front of the chopper, planning to use the the windshield as a slide of sorts. I scoot slowly, in forced increments – until I scoot a little too far and slip – all the way down, landing on the jungle floor on my knees.

"You okay!?" I hear Slivko ask from inside the chopper. His voice is slightly muffled by the thick glass, and clearer where it filters through the shattered parts.