``THE CRASH

[Dorian St. Pierre]

DAY ONE - AFTERNOON - RIGHT AFTER THE CRASH

It seemed as though the entire beach had erupted in crimson flame. Although the nearly cloudless sky above was a stunning shade of baby blue, it was completely hidden by a massive layer of thick, black smoke. The remnants of the airplane were scarred haphazardly around the shoreline, most of which were burning in the inferno. The fuselage had broken into two segments; the larger of the two, which contained the cockpit, rested on the beach, ablaze. The latter had broken off during the plane's descent, crashing into the blue ocean, about a mile offshore. One of the twin jet engines had exploded upon impact, while the other, which had not been completely destroyed, continued to spin, churning the blanket of smog.

The scene was tremendously loud, which could be attributed to not only the roar of the surviving jet engine, or the crackling of the burning wreckage, but the screaming and the crying of the individuals who had not been killed in the crash. Nearly thirty of the original sixty travelers, all teenagers bound for a summer oceanography camp off the coast of Australia, populated the smoldering beach. The majority of which had sustained injuries and, at present, it seemed as though nobody had any background in first aid.

Dorian St. Pierre lay unconscious at the epicenter of the inferno, which had once been the plane's fuselage. Dorian had sustained a deep gash above his right eyebrow when he had been thrown out of his seat upon impact. But besides this laceration, Dorian had, miraculously, no other visible injuries. Feeling a strange heat on his cheek, Dorian woke and instantly began chocking, due to the unbearable amount of smoke inside the fuselage. The twenty-three year old's head pounded, as if he had been hit over the head by some unknown object. Still coughing and gagging, Dorian peered through the smoke, looking for an exit. His salvation came by way of a broken window, which had obviously been broken by another survivor for a similar purpose. Getting to his feet, Dorian felt his way towards the exit, his eye useless and watering due to the smoke.

Coughing profusely, Dorian finally found the makeshift exit and made his way outside, which was just as saturated with smoke as the interior of the fuselage.

The entire beach was ablaze. People were scattering away from the wreck, some finding their way out of the inferno and some coming up out of the waters offshore. Most were injured, some with minor scrapes and some with life threatening injuries. The skyline was obscure with smoke and nearly everyone was screaming or coughing profusely. It was terrible. The entire scene was heart wrenching.

Coughing roughly, Dorian made his way up the beach, away from the burning wreck. He grabbed his head. He had a splitting headache, probably because a suitcase had bashed into his head on impact. Dorian turned to look at the inferno, taking it all in. Gasping, for the first time Dorian truly appreciated the magnitude of the disaster. The very fact that some of them had survived was a miracle. Students continued trickling out of the plane and all of them appeared to be badly burnt. "Some people could still be trapped inside" Dorian thought to himself.

Suddenly, instinct kicked in. He ran to the ocean, took off his shirt, and soaked it in the warm salt water. Dorian tore the shirt into pieces, making sure each section was thoroughly drenched. He took two of the pieces and wrapped them around his hands, and tied the third around his face, in a pathetic attempt to protect him from the smoke and fire. "I've got be out of my mind!" Dorian said aloud, as he ran towards the wreck. By now most of the students who could walk had emerged from the plane, and there wasn't anyone trying to get out as Dorian made his way through the makeshift exit. Coughing terribly, Dorian entered the blaze.

The entire fuselage smelled like death. There were burning bodies everywhere; it seemed like no one still inside the fuselage was left alive. "Is anybody in here!?" Dorian screamed, barely audible over the roar of the fire. Then Dorian heard it. Someone moaned out from the front of the plane, towards the cockpit. Pushing a cart out of his way, Dorian fought his way towards the cockpit. "Hey!" Dorian called out. "Can anybody hear me!?".

"In here" Someone moaned. Pushing in the door, Dorian found himself in the cockpit. The entire room smelled like gasoline and Dorian spotted the pilot pinned down, with a piece of shrapnel sticking out of his side. "Please.. Help Me!" The man called out, barely conscious.

"Hold on!" Dorian yelled. Dorian pulled the piece of metal away, nearing burning his hands, freeing the man's leg. "Can you walk?" Dorian yelled out. The man shook his head. "Ok. Hold on!" Dorian struggled to pick the pilot up over his shoulder and struggled to carry the man out of the cockpit, wondering the whole time if the fuselage would explode. Coughing profusely, Dorian made his way back out to the beach, and collapsed, near a blond girl. Everyone that could be saved was out of the plane..

[des]

Pain. Sharp, piercing pain wracked her curvy frame. The pain resonated from the crown of her head down her spine and into her legs. Her limbs felt heavy and numb. Though the dull ache of a burning sensation broke through and remained prominant as it pulsed in rhythm with her heart. A low groan fell from plush, pink lips. Taking in a deep breath, she winced as her ribcage protested the motion. Her lungs ached, but welcomed the Oxygen. The darkness that surrounded her, faded and a blurred vision of her surroundings greeted her. The first thing she found was a large, blurred mass of red and orange. The inhalation did not bring fresh air like she had hoped. Instead her lungs burned with the acidic tang of ash that was pulled into the organ.

Immediately, she fell into a strong bout of rib shaking coughs. She felt her systems come completely back online as her vision cleared. The mass of red-orange had solidified and revealed to her the inferno that gripped the island. The last thing she remembered was reclining in her seat by the window, drifting away with her thoughts as music blared from her beloved ipod which rested in her lap. She quickly sad up, hissing when her muscles protested the sudden movement. She took a quick mental log of any injuries. Her muscles were sore from the impact, but that was the least of her worries. She found that the burning sensation came from a gash that split the skin just below her lower rib on the left side. There was also mild singes along her legs from coming in contact with the inflamed side of the plane.

She had been tossed from her seat and into heated metal before being tossed like a rag doll across the beach. That accounted for her sore muscles. Sitting up as best as she could, she pushed her long, thick mass of wavy golden blonde locks from her face. Crystalline orbs scanned her surroundings, struggling to see past thick plumes of smoke and blazing flames. The plane had nose dived and split in half. Bodies strewn across the beach, some immobile while others appeared to be starting to move. Her mind raced a mile a minute, trying to decide if she should get up and chance looking for survivors. She caught movement and noticed a singular figure moving around the airplane. She watched as he started pulling people from the wreckage.

Forcing herself to stand on shaky legs, she placed a hand over the wound on her side. The pain flared with the motion and she hissed once again. Powering through it, she stumbled on wobbly legs. She wanted to help in some way, it was the least she could do. She couldn't stand to see another person die. watching her own grandfather wither away and finally depart after pulling the plug was hard. She almost didn't go through with it, but the peace she saw in his eyes before the dulled and closed was enough to reassure her. He would no longer suffer in pain. She limped across the hot sand and made it halfway to the plane before dropping to her knees once more. Cursing under her breath, she tried again but found that the man hadn't gone back to the plane. Maybe he managed to save whoever was left inside. Feeling a bit miffed at this, she scowled, but it turned into a pained wince once more.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. She should have been in Australia, lounging on the beach in her bikini and drinking sweet tea. Not laying among the supposed dead bleeding and in pain. The man had collapsed once more a few feet away from her. Her head throbbed, fiercely. Resolving that she couldn't move any farther, she collapsed once more, laying flat against the sand. Her eyes felt heavy, possibly suffering a concussion from hitting the side of the plane when she was thrown. Maybe she could just close her eyes for a moment, just to let her body rest. A rational side of her brain pleaded for her to stay awake, but the rest of her body began to feel like it was made of lead. She started to drift off, but before her eyes could shut once more, she caught a partially blurred figure racing toward her. Then darkness enveloped her once more.

[katherine]

The flight thus far had been uneventful. Katherine shifted her weight, attempting to displace the discomfort she felt in her body. Her legs cramped uncomfortably, beseeching her to stretch. Katherine allowed her head to loll to one side as she attempted to escape her discomfort through restless sleep. Panic surged up as she felt the impingements of her confinement. A forced breath quelled it. The flight had been arduous. The plane shuddered. Katherine’s eyes quickly glanced out the window that was on her right. A slight crease of concern lined her brow. She quickly pinned it down to nothing to dwell on. However, the plane lurched and she felt it losing altitude. Her initial reaction of fear was quickly discarded. She folded herself into the safety position. The screams started with only one person. Like lambs to the slaughter, the rest of the passengers echoed. Katherine remained silent, braced against her knees. Her breathing was short and shallow and her eyes tightly shut. Fear could not hold her more than any dream. Fear flailed futilely against such a destructive force. So Katherine silenced her fear. If she was to die, she would do it with dignity. Her stomach churned uncomfortably as the plane lost its place in the sky. It was rumoured that a person’s life flashed before their eyes as they died. Katherine only held onto an image of a swing in an old oak tree and the tangible feeling of the only place she had ever seen as home.

As the plane met the ground, obsidian smoke overtook her consciousness. Devoid of pain, her body went limp. Her hands released her knees and she flopped lifelessly. But she wasn’t dead – she roused moments later, her lungs filled with smoke. Coughing violently, her hands automatically reached for the seat buckle and she stumbled through the remaining wreck, over dead and dying bodies, to an opening to the outside world where the plan was ripped apart. Her ears hummed from the sound of the crash. Disorientated, she stumbled out of the plane. Water, reflecting the crimson flames, lapped at her feet. The sweet smell of the island gave way to the smell of carnage and smoke.

Voices rose under the blanket of smoke before the burning wreckage. The island convulsed under the bleeding plane. The twisted mental of the black bird revealed itself as a harbinger. The dead lay scattered around the corpse of the plane. Katherine swayed on the spot, licks of pain stretching down her left side. A shard of the plane stuck out her thigh and burns, intermittently, cover her body. She grimaced as the pain made its way into her full awareness. The flames crept across the wreckage, sending plumes out heat into the air. The sky hung heavily, its blue marred by the encroaching black smoke. Katherine allowed her body to give in and lay in the waves, her consciousness only noting the gentle caress of the ebbing water. She forced herself not to give in to the swirling darkness that threatened to take hold. Her mind was crowded with memories; memories of things that she had long since forgotten to dwell on. Silent, involuntary tears seeped down Katherine’s porcelain face, recognising the fear and trauma of the crash that she so violently fought against. Katherine Carter was invincible, her mind echoed feebly, seeking out the mantra that had woven itself into her life. Katherine Carter was invincible to emotion; to people.

Moments seemed to meld into each other and Katherine had no knowledge about how much time had passed since she had given herself to the water. She sat up, groggy from pain. The horrendous ringing in her ears had dissipated. She smiled wryly to herself. Perhaps the plane had done her job for her. The thought appealed to her sardonic humour. She struggled to her feet, ignoring as best she could, the pain that jolted down her leg. The young woman struggled through the debris and bodies to find anyone else that had survived the crash. Emerging from the plane was the figure of Dorian St. Pierre. Too tired to feel disappointed, she made her way unsteadily towards him and the blonde next to him that had survived the crash. She allowed her ebony to assess the scene that unfolded before them.

A scene from Lord of the Flies seemed to echo around her. Stranded university students on an uninhabited island. The laws of civilisation would fall away. Oh, Katherine would not weep for the fall of innocence; she would not weep for the darkness of man’s heart. The beasts that haunted this island had just arrived, imbedded deeply within each of these individuals.
Let’s kill Piggy, she thought as she watched Dorian a moment longer. In the chaos of the island, all things could happen and Katherine only needed to wait for the perfect opportunity. So she went over and collapsed into a sitting position near Dorian.

[ronslater]

---

Annabelle's eyes snapped open and she let out a gasp of fear as the sudden bout of extreme turbulance shook the entire plane and roused her from her slumber. Screaming starts all around her as the shaking intensifies, and she struggled to remain calm although her breathing quickly becomes frenzied with her rising panic.

A couple moments later, she heard a loud explosion come from behind her, and leaned out into the aisle to look back. To her utter horror, the tail section of the plane had ripped off and all that can be seen is the sky past the row of seats six places behind her.

"Holy ****!!" She screamed out in terror, and then felt something hard hit her in the back of the head, a small case that had come out of the overhead above her as she was distracted, and everything fades to blackness as the screaming continues.

To her legitimate surprise she's not dead is her first thought as she regained consciousness an unknown amount of time later. She instinctively jerked upward into a sitting position from where she'd been laying in the sand a dozen yards or so from the wreckage of the plane's fuselage. Immediately she regretted this as pain erupted against the back of her skull, and her right hand came up to press against her scalp, holding it there for a moment before pulling it in front of her.

It came back bloody and she grimaced, hoping like hell the damage wasn't too bad as she slowly pulled herself up to stand on shaky legs, her balance considerably off centered in her disorientation. She took a slow couple steps toward the fuselage, praying that she wasn't the only survivor. She stopped at the closest prone body to her, falling to her knees next to the red haired guy who had hit on her at the airport bar by the terminal that they'd been waiting for the flight from.

She shakily reached out to roll him over so he's laid out on his back rather than his stomach, and managed to do so with a bit of a struggle. Her efforts to try and save his life are met with an uncontrollable urge to vomit as she discovered that a good portion of the man's body is burned to the point of charring.

She manages to throw herself backwards to land on her ass in the sand, before jerking her head to the side and emptying the contents of her stomach onto the ground.

'Why the hell didn't I just road-trip to Tijuana?' She wondered to herself as she finished throwing up. Her eyes raised upward from the sand to stare blankly out at the seemingly endless water off the shore of the beach, looking to be in a state of mild shock.

[mirabella]

Arnold Smollet was bored out of his mind. He hated airplanes. It wasn't that he was scared of flying, not at all. He had nothing to do, except sit on an uncomfortable chair for many hours, sitting next to passengers who usually took more space than an individual should take and invading Arnold's personal space. He was too shy to tell them to move; he figured the passenger already knew. Why waste your precious breath on those with ill manners? He hated it very much when his personality got in the way of things. Always, he was playing mister nice guy and it was getting tedious. But as was the complaining. If he really hated being the good guy, then maybe he should actively try to change it. Arnold closed his eyes, trying to direct his thoughts elsewhere. He went through his pockets, looking for his iPod.

Before he could find it however, the plane started shaking violently. At first Arnold thought that the plane flew through a turbulence, but then the shaking grew even more violent than before and all Arnold could think was: the plane was going to crash. Even as the thought flitted through his brain, his stomach dropped from the sudden decline of the plane. The plane was dropping - and fast. Arnold eyes went to the window next to him and he couldn't see anything for how fast the plane was dropping. They were going to die. More importantly he was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. He heard the screams of his fellow passengers. Arnold felt that it was a waste of breath, it's not like screaming would help them in the situation. Indeed,The flight attendants were trying to tell them where to go but no one could hear them over the noise. The exit lights were flashing, but everything was so chaotic that no one seemed to notice. They had all forgotten the video that was shown to them before the plane's lift off. Arnold closed his eyes, waiting for the crash.

And then it came. Everything came crashing down, the backpacks landed on the floor, breaking whatever it contained. Some dropping on other passengers. The lights flickered and then went out. Arnold was stuck in his seat. He could smell the fire that was quickly burning the plane. If he didn't get out, he was going to end up dead! He tried to unbuckle his seat belt, but that was proving to be hard. He worked on it furiously, and finally was able to get it to open. Arnold started to cough, his eyes watering from the smoke that hung thickly in the air. Arnold gasped, trying to catch a breath. That of course was a bad move. He inhaled some smoke and started retching. His breathing started to get heavier, soon he would lose conciseness. He needed to get out of here.

Slowly but surely, he made his way out through the corpses and debris. He didn't bother looking at the people he passed. He couldn't save them even if he wanted to. It was every man for himself right now. He moved away from the smoke and then collapsed. He didn't have the strength to move anymore. He wanted to see what damages he had suffered, but couldn't move his body anymore to do so. Arnold took in a deep breath, which started another round of coughing and then he slowly lost consciousness.