Lyra-
I cracked my eyes open and looked around. I was on my side, my shoulder was pressed to the wall of the plane painfully. I reached over and unclipped my seatbelt, letting myself fall from the seat. Groaning when my body weight was put all on my one side, I turned myself around to sit upright.
My whole body ached and stung. I wiped my forehead and blood coated the back of my hand. I grimaced and tried to wipe the blood out of my eye.
Clutching my arm, I stumbled out of the ripped opening where the front of the plane used to be.
I looked around and figured it was about five or six o'clock. The storm seemed to be gone.
I turned around and faced a mountain side. Looking up, I could barley see the front of the plane on a ledge. A little crumpled up white speck among the dark dirt and rocks.
I remembered Marcus was dead. I was alone and I don't know where the hell I am. I was really sure my shoulder was dislocated, just to add the cherry on top of the shit-sundae.
I sat down in the mud and let the tears stream down my face. My chest heaved painfully.
Sobbing loudly, I crawled back into the plane bits, and curled against the seat. I held my arm to me and leaned against the plane wall. What the hell was I supposed to do?
I looked down and saw multiple cuts on myself, probably from debris and falling almost one hundred and thirty feet down a mountain. My head hurt like hell and I felt exhausted.
A blackness started to surround my vision. I let it envelop me, it was warm and painless.
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"But daddy, it's squishy," I whined.
My father sat next to me on the dock and took the worm from me "Yes but that's okay."
"Why do I need to know how to fish daddy?" I asked curiously.
"Well for fun and so you can go on river trips with me."
I grinned as he handed the line back to me "I like it when you teach me things."
"Well in that case, I'll teach you all you need to know about living out here. Then, if you need me one day and I'm not there, you can care for yourself."
Being the six year old I was, I only smiled and nodded, then cast my hook from my Barbie fishing pole into the water.
"Good job!" My father praised.
I giggled and swung my feet on the dock. Soon, my pole started to tug.
I gasped and squealed "Daddy! Daddy! I think I got one!"
"Reel! Reel it in Lyra!" He grinned, urging me to bring the fish in.
I cranked that little pink lever as hard and as fast as I could. A catfish the size of my forearm swung almost into my lap.
"Aw man, that's a good one!" My father praised and took it off the hook.
"Can we eat it?!" I asked excitedly, dropping my pole.
"Yup," he grinned down at me and ruffled my brown curls
I watched him chop the head off, fillet the fish, and then throw the guts and bones back into the water along with the head.
"Ew," I giggled.
"It ain't that bad, this one will be good eating. See the nice white meat? It's good. You gotta look out for bones but I'm pretty sure I got them all," Dad said after inspecting the fish. He then set the meat on ice in a cooler.
"Yeah," I nodded and went back to trying to put a worm on my hook again.
It started to get very bright around me and my six year old self and my younger looking dad seemed to fade away.
I was in a very bright place.
"Lyra," a voice called.
I hadn't heard the voice for a very very long time but I knew it better than my own name.
"Mom?" I asked an looked around,it couldn't be her, could it?
A beautiful woman stood in front of me in white. Her image mirrored mine but in a more mature way.
"Mom," I smiled and ran to hug her, oh how I missed her.
Her warmth spread through me.
"Hi baby," she hummed, holding me to her.
She pulled away from me and held me at arms length, "You look so grown up, so beautiful."
I giggled and felt happy tears run down my cheeks, "Momma where are we?"
"This is the place in between life and death," she whispered seriously.
"I-I'm dead?" I gasped.
"No baby, your body wants you to die but you just won't give up. I'm glad you're not giving out. There's someone who needs you and you need to be alive to help them," she grinned at me proudly, her melodious voice seemed to float around me.
"Who? Dad?" I asked.
"Well, your father too, but there's someone else who will need you fatally. Listen to me honey, you need to help them. They will need you so desperately and you will need them."
"Who mom?"
"I-..... I need to go soon," she whispered, looking over her shoulder.
"No! Mom don't leave me please!" I cried, suddenly feeling young and small.
"Not again, I need you!" I hugged her to to me tightly.
"I love you," she kissed my forehead.
"I love you too momma," I sobbed into her shoulder.
"Remember to help them. Don't leave them. Don't push them away. You need each other."
"Help who? Who is 'them?,' " I looked at her frantically.
"I have to go, remember, you're not alone," she smiled at me and began to fade.
"Help who?! Momma don't leave me, I want to go with you!" I cried out as she disappeared.
"I'm always with you. You're going to be fine," her voice promised faintly.
"Mom!" I sobbed with tears streaming down my face.
The brightness increased and I shielded my eyes from it.
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I gasped for air and sat up straight. My body instantly protested from the movement. I groaned and looked around. It was morning, a bird sang it's beautiful song somewhere near me.
I slowly inched my way out of the plane piece. The bright morning light was warm while the air was cool. Mist kissed the ground I stood on.
I remembered my mother and my dream. It comforted me somewhat but made me think I was going crazy.
My shoulder throbbed horribly. It was stiff and very hard to move. I sucked in a breath, got down on one knee and stuck my fingers underneath the knee that was on the ground.
With my free hand, I felt around my shoulder and positioned it where it lined up with the socket. Then I held my breath and pushed hard. After a few agonizing seconds, I heard a sickening pop and crunch. My shoulder was back in place.
I got up and lifted my injured arm, it was sore but felt a hell of a lot better than it had before.
"Okay Lyra think," I said out loud to myself, my voice quivering.
"What do I have. What can I do. Where am I," I remembered the emergency questions to ask that my father taught me. I turned and ripped the broken seat out of the plane. My bag and pack were still in the back.
What did I have in my gear pack? I couldn't remember.
I started going through my supplies likely father had taught me. I had three knives, a small hatchet, a pot, a pan, a small cooking grill, a flint fire starter, an empty water jug, a sleeping pack, a pair of pliers, four granola bars, 75 feet of coiled rope, my small emergency pistol with 9 bullets, small first aid kit, a blanket, my notebook, a rolled up tarp, and a smashed sat-phone. I had my phone as well, but there was no signal whatsoever.
"Dammit," I hissed and picked up the broken satellite phone, the antenna was falling off and the screen was shattered. When I pressed the power button, it wouldn't respond.
Prying the back off, I took the batteries and poked around for the tracker. Smashed to bits...
Tossing the ruined phone in utter frustration, I munched on a granola bar and packed my things away, other than the first aid kit. I walked over to a nearby creek and looked at my reflection. Blood was caked down the left side of my face with tear streaks. A bruise was on the right side.
I washed my face and put a handkerchief around my head wound. Then I stripped down to do a body check.
I had five cuts, and eight terrible scratches. Couldn't count the bruises, way to many of those. My biggest wound was on my head.
I bandaged the cuts and left the scratches alone. I unzipped my suit case and set my tattered clothing aside. A chilly wind picked up and I quickly picked out jeans, a T shirt and a light jacket.
I set my things back in the plane to shelter them for now.
Looking around, I assessed my options. I was on a pebble shore that led to the small creek. The creek went as far as I could see. I was in between two mountain bases, in a very small valley. A group of trees were clustered near the waters edge.
This was not a good place to be if it flooded or there happened to be a rockslide. I took my axe and started to cut away and drag large pieces of wood onto the pebbles.
I spelled out S.O.S. on the pebbles an hour or so later. I sighed as sweat beaded my face, my energy already spent.
I used some remaining wood to pile into a small campfire, which I started up with my flint fire starter. My throat felt horrible when I swallowed, feeling scratchy. I needed water.
I dropped down next to the creek and cupped it in my hands. I stopped myself before it reached my mouth.
"No. Boil it," I said and I wiped my hands on my jeans, kicking myself for almost drinking possibly bad water.
I took out my pot and grill piece. Staking the grill over my fire, I filled my pot with water. Soon I had boiling water, which I set aside to cool off.
A rustle caught my attention. I began to panic and scrambled for my pistol and knife. I pointed the gun at a bush that the rustling was coming from and held my knife close to me cautiously.
A crow flew out of the bush cawing and made me jump. I breathed out and felt silly, trying to calm myself.
"Don't be unprotected," I reminded myself, my voice sounding weird and alone. It was kinda sad.
I chopped a straight, hard stick from a nearby tree and started to shape the end into a spear with my knife.
Sipping clean water and clutching my spear, I wondered what to do now. I was tired, but bored.
I looked around my proclaimed spot. Staying on the ground would be a bad idea. My eye caught an outcrop in the side of the mountain about 30 feet up.
I set my water down and started to climb the thick, rough mountain edge, grunting with effort.
Avoiding the suspicious looking rocks, I picked my way to the outcrop. It went about six or seven feet into the mountain. An itty-bitty cave that would be great shelter if it rained.
I decided to bring my gear up here. Fifteen minutes later, I had made myself at home in the rocks.
"Much better," I said to myself as I lit a new fire.
Now what? What was there to do? Wait?
"Dad should know I'm gone by now. No wait, I said I might be at a hotel. Ugh," I groaned, but I could expect rescue within the week though.
My stomach growled. It was about noon, so I could eat. I left a large log on my new fire and picked my way back down to the valley with my spear.
I walked over to the creek where some trout or something could be. Sitting very very still, I waited. Ten minutes later, a skinny fish darted out of the shade and into a clump of algae.
I went back to my camp. Slicing my rope at one end, I pulled away a thinner piece of rope from the inside of the original rope. I carved a hooked twig into a crappy fishing hook and knotted it onto my rope string. Back in the valley, I dug with my hands near the roots of the trees.
I found just four grubs. Good enough, I suppose. I sat back near the water, my makeshift fishing line dangled in the water.
A few minutes went by and the fish poked out of the algae. It swam over and eagerly took my bait. I jerked the rope and hooked it's lip. Happily pulling it out of the water, I killed it with a swift knock to the head.
Twenty minutes later, I had five small fish. I filleted and laid them on my grill to cook. The other two I draped over a stick in the sun to dry out so I could preserve them.
I had gone into survival mode, ignoring the fact that I was stranded out in the Rocky mountains. Alone.
"Dad will come for me," I said to myself while putting my tarp on top of my outcrop ledge to drape in front of the entrance to my camp. It was the closest I had to a door.
I stocked up my fire and curled into my sleeping bag with my blanket over me. Knife in one hand, gun in the other, I laid back to sleep.
You're going to be fine, I said to myself.