DELILAH
Smoke.
That's the first thing I notice before my eyes blink open; everything smells like smoke, fire, and gasoline.
I open my eyes to find the world's fallen sideways – or at least, I have. The smoking chopper had landed on it's right side. As my vision fades from white, to hazy, the pain begins to swell. Pins and needles layer my skin, and I can feel bits of dried blood that had trickled sideways, towards the earth, probably scrapes from when we crash landed through the trees.
We?
Oh my god.
Suddenly terrified, I strain my neck to look all around. My feet and my shoulders are weighed down by gravity, which makes it hard to see much of anything. Mason?! I groan in agony as I realize that I'm still strapped into my seat, and that's why I'm still dangling sideways, at least four feet in the air. I reach my leadened arms towards the buckle, and try to press it open. The buckle won't click. I push again, and again, and again with all my might to no avail. "MASON!?" I scream, all the air flooding from my lungs. The air is thick, and my heart thuds faster. "MASON, HELP!!"
It gets harder and harder to breath. "HELP!"
"Anyone?" I whisper, choking on my shortened breaths.
I feel tears threaten to burn my eyes, and force myself to blink them away. Oh god, what if she's dead?
I shake my head, a dull ache setting deep into my skull.
No.
No. She can't be dead. She isn't dead, and I'm going to find her.
A shaky sigh escapes my lips, and for a moment, I focus on my breathing.
I'm going to find her. But first, I'm going to save myself.
With my new mission in mind, I peer through the smokey haze for anything that might help me escape from this stupid seatbelt. Nothing. There's nothing sharp enough among the debris of charred ash and broken branches that could cut through the belt. Wait– what if I loosen the straps until I can slide myself free?
Hastily, my fingers fumble at the seatbelt straps. I use up nearly every ounce of strength I have, and the strap barely loosens an inch. It leaves me breathless for a moment, but not defeated. That's something. I can work with this. I tug again, trying to slide the adjustment clip even further. All at once, it slides forward a good five inches and I groan as my bruised body falls sideways into the loosened strap. "Ow, gosh, shit!"
I squirm, trying to maneuver my way out of the tangled mess of seatbelt. Somehow, I manage to push through the pain and ease my thighs and torso out of the straps, using a metal bar from something on the chopper to pull the rest of my legs through until I'm free.
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.
"I'm fine," I say, standing up, brushing off my knees. "I'm gonna smash through the glass to get to you, okay?"
I search the outer ruins of the helicopter for something strong enough to break the glass until I discover a decent-sized boulder in some brush.
This should do the trick.
"Close your eyes," I say, preparing to launch the rock at the windshield. It grows heavier by the second.
"Okay, just let me know whe– aAHH" Slivko shrieks as I let the giant boulder fly into the windshield, shattering the glass. "Jeeze, not even a 'one, two, three,' or anything?"
I step over the shards towards Slivko, glad Mason had me wear these thick work boots. "You can open your eyes now, you big baby."
He opens his eyes and watches me study his predicament. It seems the only way to get him free is to pry the two collapsed pilot-seats apart. I glance around for a strong stick, or a metal rod – something to give me some leverage.
Not seeing anything, I first try to use my body weight to pull the seats apart. They don't move an inch.
"This might hurt," I mutter, now trying to twist Slivko's leg out from between the two seats.
"Ahh," he hisses, the rest of his body writhing in pain.
"Sorry," I say, letting go of his leg.
"Wait, no!" he says. "Try– try it again. But at the same time. Try to pull the chairs apart while lifting it."
"How could I do that? I only have two hands."
"The rock? Could you put the rock between and slide it over to push them apart?"
Maybe.
I pick up the boulder I'd thrown through the now-shattered windshield and try to wedge it between the seats where the opening is biggest. It almost rolls over the back and into the middle part of the chopper where I'd been trapped before, but I steady it. Carefully, I roll it sideways as far as it will go into the space between the two seats – oh so slightly, the top seat lifts a smidge off of the other.
This might work.
I groan, pushing harder, straining in order to get more space for Slivko to slip free.
At last, he inhales sharply as the seat is lifted an inch above his leg. Carefully, I guide his shin out from the crevice.
"Ohhh, thank God," Slivko sighs, sinking fully to the ground.
Once freed, he immediately crawls his way out of the ruined cockpit and onto the leafy foliage of the jungle floor. "That thing can blow any second," he says, nodding back towards the chopper. I follow after Slivko, trying to get him to stop moving for one gosh-damn second.
He finally stops crawling away from the chopper, assuming the distance between it and us is far enough, in case it spontaneously combusts. I crouch down to examine his leg, and he looks up at me – his soft, wide eyes meeting my own. "You okay?" I mumble, looking downwards to hide my blushing cheeks.
"I'm fine," he says. He rolls up his pant leg a bit, as if to prove it to me. "Circulation is a little weak, but if I get up and moving," he explains. "Should be fine.. Wait."
"What?"
"Hold up a sec, you don't actually care about me, now, do you?"
I feel my face flush red again – this boy seems to have that effect on me.
"You basically just saved my life," Slivko said.
"Well.. no shit, Sherlock, someone had to do it for you."
That comeback didn't have the effect on him I'd hoped for, as now he's grinning at me like a goofball.
"Don't make me regret it," I grumble.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
//
So... it appears Reg & Lilah are on their own together for now? Anyways, If you enjoyed this chapter, PLEASE, PLEASE VOTE! It means a lot! Ima try to update more often. As always, thanks for reading!
–autumn