Chapter 4 Villain
Villain
My ears are ringing so loud, I can’t tell if I’m still yelling or if I’m quiet.
It’s dark.
Hazy.
I wonder if I’m dreaming.
I smell smoke and wonder if one of my boys left a blunt somewhere and it caught fire. Dumb asses. So fucking irresponsible sometimes.
Right when I open my eyes all the way, somebody coughs, and I realize I’m not alone.
So I’m definitely not dreaming.
I blink through the haze, confused by the strange shape next to me. Then I realize—that’s a person. That’s my cousin, slumped over in his seat in a real unnatural position.
“No,” I rasp, voice breaking. “No, no, no. Crown! Crown. Come on man.”
My seatbelt’s cutting into my chest. I hear someone moan as I fumble around with the buckle, finally clawing it loose and breaking free. It’s not Crown, though. It’s coming from the back.
I put a hand on Crown’s shoulder, pushing a little at first, then shoving him hard. The way his head is moving lets me know he’s gone.
“Help…” A low, muffled cry cuts through the chaos.
With my heart pounding, I drop to all fours, crawling toward the voice. The smoke is getting worse. I can barely see shit. But now I hear something else. My own voice. I’m going crazy. Gotta be. Wait, it’s Jahir’s phone, still playing my music.
Matter of fact, where the fuck is my nephew?
“Ja?” I croak through my dry throat. Ain’t no way he heard that.
I finally find the voice. It’s coming from Ms. Kiara. I squint through the smoke, straining to make out her face.
“Ms. K? You hurt?”
But all she says is, “Help.”
I don’t know what to do first. My lungs are on fire, my eyes sting, my throat feels like it’s about to swell shut. Maybe if I can get the door open and clear out the smoke…yeah, I’ma do that.
“I’ll be right back, Ms. K. Don’t move, alright?”
Bracing myself on her armrest, I push myself to a standing position and stumble towards the front of the plane.
I see the door, but no knob, which makes sense.
This ain’t my house. I swipe my hand over the door and the walls around it, feeling for something, a button, a latch, something that’ll get this shit open.
“On the right. Next to the red panel.”
It’s Ariana’s voice, weak and muffled. I don’t even look back, I just move my hand along the wall until I feel it.
This shit ain’t easy to lift. I have to put my back into it, but I finally get that bitch up. I push with all my strength until the door opens, squinting against the sun, breathing deep as fresh oxygen rushes in.
The smoke clears around me as I move back to the rear of the plane. I keep my eyes straight like lasers, focused only on Ms. Kiara. I feel like if I look around, I’ma see something I don’t wanna see. Because besides my music, it’s quiet. My boys are quiet.
My stomach lurches at the realization.
I find Ms. Kiara pinned under a tangle of luggage and debris. Her face is streaked with blood and dust, tears carving clean lines through it.
“I got you,” I choke out, hauling cases and broken metal off her, panic pushing through me faster.
“Don’t move her!”
I whip my head toward Ariana’s voice.
She’s half-buried under a collapsed panel, her face bloody and determined. “Not yet,” she grits out. “She might have internal injuries.”
I bring my eyes back to Ms. K, putting a hand on her cheek. “Where does it hurt?”
Her eyes roll slightly. “I don’t know.”
“If I don’t move her, how do I get her outta here?”
Ariana coughs so hard and so long, it sounds like she’s choking. I don’t know how to help Ms. K just yet, so I go to Ariana, heart in my throat.
“You hurt?”
“My leg’s stuck,” she says, her face frozen in a grimace.
I heave the heavy piece of panel off her. My stomach turns when I see her leg—swollen, cut open, blood pooling onto the floor below her.
She shifts in her seat, grimacing from the pain. “I need you to check on the pilots.”
“You do it.”
Her eyes flash with something…anger maybe. But mostly disappointment. Just that quick.
Even with all this shit going on, I can’t handle her disapproval, so I move toward the cockpit, hating every second of it.
I don’t even need to open the door all the way. Peeking through the crack in the cockpit door, it’s plain to see they’re dead. One is slumped over the controls. The other is facedown under his chair, blood pooling under him.
When I turn back around, and Ariana sees my face, she bursts into tears. I hate to interrupt her grief, but Ms. K is my priority.
“Sorry,” I say. “For your loss.”
She nods, swiping a hand across her eyes. It seems like a switch flips, because the tears are gone now, replaced with strength and a plan.
“We need to get out of this wreckage,” she says. “The smoke will kill us if the plane doesn’t catch on fire first.” She coughs hard. “Find something flat that’s strong enough to support Ms. Kiara.”
My eyes dart around, past the bags and glass and motionless human-shaped objects in the seats. I finally spot a broken panel wedge against the wall. I drag it free, muscles screaming, head pounding. Ariana eases back to where I am, her leg dripping blood the whole way.
“Ms. Kiara, do you feel any pain?” she asks.
Ms. K’s eyes aren’t focusing just yet, but she manages to say, “No. I feel…heavy.”
Ariana swallows hard. “Let her seat all the way back.”
I do as I’m told.
“When I roll her over, slide that under her,” she says, pointing to the panel. “I’ll try my best to help you carry her out.”
We manage to get Ms. K on the board without disturbing her too much, but getting her out is harder. Ariana is strong enough to carry some of the load, but her leg wound limits her movements. We move slow, creeping down the aisle.
Finally, we’re outside. The thick, humid air slams into me, heavy with salt and heat.
I catch the low hiss of waves, crashing and sucking back against the shore somewhere close that’s hard to pinpoint.
The smell is sharp and green, which makes sense given all the trees around us.
I can’t even begin to guess where we’re at. It’s still hitting me that we crashed.
With Ms. K on the ground, I wipe a hand across my forehead, which is already slick with sweat. Ariana studies my face, then her eyes drift upward as she asks, “Does your head hurt?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You’re bleeding.”
I shrug, cough, then sit down on the ground. It’s not quite sand, not quite dirt. It’s a weird, jagged mix of the two.
“I need you to—“
“Why you always needing me to do something? Fuck!” I shake my head. “Let me rest for a second, damn.”
“Vincent.”
Ms. K is the only one who calls me by my government. I bring my eyes to hers, shamed by the tone of her voice.
“Please do what she says. She knows what she’s doing.”
More tears roll down Ms. K’s face, streaking more paths.
“What?” I finally say, looking up at Ariana. “What you need me to do?”
Ariana blows out a breath. “I need you to check on your friends. Also, grab all the luggage and supplies before the plane catches fire. I’ll help as much as I can.”
“Why do you keep saying the plane is gonna catch on fire?” I ask, ignoring the 'check on your friends' part. They're gone. I already know.
“I smell fuel,” she says matter of factly. “It might not, but just to be on the safe side, I think we should—“
“Honestly…” I trail off, searching for the words. “I don’t…I can’t…”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I understand. But if we don’t get the stuff out, we won’t have food or clothes or anything else we need.”
“A rescue plane’ll come. You know who I am, right? I’m sure they on the way right now.”
“I’m sure they are,” she says gently. “But for now—“
“Aight. Aight. Damn. Just give me a second.”
I blink against the glare of the sun. It’s bright and brutal, showing no mercy. I feel like the world is spinning around me. I’m nauseous. I’m tired.
I’m scared.
Tears fill my eyes as I stare up at the sky. I don’t even bother pray. It’s too late for that. I said what I had to say when we started falling out of the sky, and apparently, nobody up there heard me. I mean, I’m still here, but what difference does that make now that I’ve lost everybody?
I heave myself off the dirt, stumbling a little as a boom goes off inside my head.
I stagger back to the wreckage, holding my breath as I step through the door.
I smell what Ariana was talking about, the sharp, chemical aroma lingering in the air.
My eyes water, but I keep it pushing. I got a job to do.
I keep my gaze low, scanning for backpacks, carry-ons, anything I can grab. I don’t let my eyes focus. I can’t. The silence hurts. No laughter. No stupid ass jokes. Even my music stopped playing at some point.
I feel hollow inside.
My hand closes on a duffel bag. I yank it free, sling it over my shoulder, then grab another. Focus on the work. Don’t look. Don’t think.
Most of the overhead compartments were ripped open. I grab more bags, finally moving back toward the exit when I can’t carry anything more. Ariana watches me throw everything into a pile, finally standing up to follow me in on my second trip.
I pretend not to notice her checking pulses as she passes by the seats. I’m grabbing phones, snacks, unopened bottles, everything I see, my stomach twisting every time I let myself think about the reality of this situation.
Outside, I dump everything on the ground, then go right back in.
The fuel smell is getting stronger now. Got me feeling like I’m breathing pure poison, burning my throat, making my eyes water.
I keep my head low, eyes locked on the floor, pushing aside metal and wires and insulation. I don’t look at the seats. I can’t.
Behind me, Ariana is quiet. Steady. Steadier than me. “Check the galley,” she says, voice hoarse. “Just take whatever you can grab.”
“The what?”
“The kitchen,” she says. “Food and water.”
My chest feels tight as I head toward the kitchen, passing her while she checks on Crown. I lock in. Food. Water. Flashlights. Lighters. Fire extinguisher. I’m on autopilot.
Outside, the pile gets bigger.
Inside, Ariana’s coughing again, harder now. “We have to hurry up,” she rasps. “The fuel is leaking.”
“I know,” I say, but I didn’t until she said it.
Then I hear it. A crackle, a snap, then a sudden roar. Bright orange flames lick across the panel closest to the wing. My stomach drops watching the fire catch fast, racing up wires, spreading over the shine of fuel on the floor.
“Fuck—go!” I bark, grabbing more bags than I can reasonably carry.
We’re racing the flames now, ducking under smoke, dragging whatever we can. Her leg was slowing her down before, but she’s moving as fast as I am now.
“One more trip,” she coughs, throwing an armful of stuff outside.
The heat’s brutal, searing my skin without the flames even touching me.
She grabs a first aid kit while I clear out the cabinets in the galley.
We’re almost clear when there’s a deafening crack of metal giving way.
A panel drops from above, slamming into Ariana’s shoulder and pinning her against the seats. She cries out, legs flailing.
I drop everything and lunge for her. The heat is unbearable now, flames climbing the walls just inches from my head. I grab the edge of the metal panel, every muscle straining, and heave it up. My hand slips, but adrenaline keeps me going.
“Move!” I yell.
She scrambles free, dragging herself toward the exit. I haul her up, wrap an arm around her waist, grab as much shit as I can, and half-carry her out as the plane screams behind us.
The second we clear the door, the whole thing goes. A blast of heat knocks me forward, throwing us into the dirt. Fire laughs behind me as I'm hit with a realization. It’s a heavy and suffocating feeling.
My family is really gone.
I move onto my knees, turning to see…although I don’t know what I’m looking for. My chest heaves, my face drenched with sweat. I watch as my fucking life burns. My friends. My cousin. My nephew.
I close my eyes and hear a sound, something like a hurt animal, alone and dying. Turns out, it’s a wail that’s ripped out of me, raw and broken.
They’re gone. All of them. And I couldn’t save a single one.