10. Chapter 7 - Marley #2
“Danny,” I repeated. “I’m going to need you to go to the front of the plane right now, okay? Grab your bag and follow Ambrose’s directions.” I pointed to the man in question, who was bent down, assisting the suited man at the front.
Danny nodded despondently before sliding his body gingerly through the tight space on the other side of me.
The single seat across from them held the frightened, androgynous face of a person with black, wavy hair and azure blue eyes.
They wore an eles/elas pin on their denim jacket and had their tattooed hands clasped tight as if welded together.
So, Portuguese-speaking and non-binary. I wanted to make them as comfortable as possible.
I repeated my name—and asked them theirs in their spoken tongue.
Bloodshot irises still wet with tears bore through mine. “Brooks,” they responded, listless and flat. In shock, no doubt.
“Hi, Brooks. Can you unbuckle your seatbelt? Do you need help?”
They abruptly shook their head, floppy curls of hair falling into their face as they frantically unclasped the belt and stood, their limbs shaking as if they would topple over any second.
Still, they pushed on, grabbing their backpack on the floor beneath their feet and moving into the aisle toward the front.
I turned my attention back to the few rows of passengers at the rear of the plane.
The two women were next. “Tessa,” the brunette with blue eyes and freckles answered before I could ask. She turned to her companion, still staring ahead in a comatose state. “This is Vanessa.” She said in English. “I don’t think we’re hurt too badly.”
Another North American accent—East Coast this time. Canadian, maybe? The listless woman turned her attention from the seat in front of her toward me, dulled green eyes and matted red hair coated by a thin layer of gray film.
“That’s good.” I placed a gentle hand on Tessa’s shoulder.
“Unbuckle your seat and head to the front of the plane, okay? I think Vanessa is going to need your help. Ambrose, Danny, and Brooks are up there waiting for you. Grab any belongings you can see.” Nodding my head in that direction, I added.
“Call on me if you need anything. I’m going to try to get the others. ”
The others—I scanned the final few rows of the cabin. There was only one living body left.
I eyed the two single seats in rows 5A and 6A. Two men, one younger, one older—both dead.
In the last two rows of seats, all four passengers were dead. The third woman had smashed her head against the window, her dented skull leaving a bloody imprint on the frame next to her slumped body.
The sobbing woman across from them, still holding her seatmate, refused to look me in the eye, her arms tightening like a vise around the dead woman.
Panic rose in my throat at the total carnage at the rear of the plane.
She didn’t look like she had any injuries, and I knew the agony of grief.
I would come back to her. I needed to find Nikki to help the others.
“Nikki?” I called toward the small cabin crew compartment at the rear of the plane. “Nik?”
No response. If the rest of the plane were rousing—all the passengers fortunate enough to make it through the crash alive—wouldn’t Nikki be conscious, too?
Damned if I knew. I knew first aid. I wasn’t a doctor.
Ignoring the swath of bodies to either side, I rushed to the rear, the sinking stone of terror in my gut growing heavier by the second.
Pushing past the tight wall next to the single washroom on the flight, I rounded the corner to see a pair of long legs in navy dress pants blocking my path forward, the person they were attached to slumped in the single cabin crew seat.
The five-point harness wrapped around Nikki’s unconscious form like a safety blanket.
His tawny skin was ashen, but not lifeless.
His chest rose slightly against the confines of the seatbelt.
It was the first time I’d seen his face without his glasses.
The boyish innocence was a stark contrast to his lively, flirtatious self.
Whispering a little prayer to the universe, I felt for his pulse, relieved to feel a strong beat against my fingers.
“Nikki, I need you to wake up now, okay?” Speaking the words softly, slowly, I unclipped his harness and leaned into him, anticipating his dead weight as he fell forward — but I’d completely misjudged the landing.
His head settled squarely against my chest, his nose buried between the valley of my ample cleavage.
My cheeks flushed pink and I buckled under the surprise positioning. Here I was, trying to save my colleague’s life, and I violated him instead. If I could just lean him back without him waking up …
Before I could shrug him off and lean him gently back into his chair, the ringlet curled halo nestled deeper into the fabric of my shirt, muffled words buzzing against my skin.
“Tell me I’ve died and gone to Heaven.”
The distorted British croon was clear enough to force the blood in my cheeks to boil to lava.
Pretending not to hear him, I nudged Nikki backwards into the seat so he could raise his head and look at me. Not a single ounce of embarrassment lingered in the beautiful golden green as he stared back, his eyes widening with astonishment.
“Not Heaven, then. But you’re alive! I’m alive! Marley, how in the fuck are we alive?” His elated cackle was a deafening shot in an aluminum tube full of corpses, the jubilant sound completely at odds with the desperation of our situation.
Before I could respond to temper his enthusiasm with a heavy dose of reality, the sharp crack of metal on metal erupted on the other side of the wall, the sound suspiciously like a gunshot, followed by a male grunt of pain.
Leaping from my position, I abandoned Nikki to investigate. Who the fuck had a gun on the plane?