Corners of the Earth II (Chocolate, RHC, FOTD)
‘Verse: Natural Forces
Challenges/Toppings/Extras: Chocolate #29 (relief), Red Hot Cinnamon #6 (where there’s smoke), FOTD: wamble (to move unsteadily) + Butterscotch
Rating: PG
Title: Corners of the Earth II
Summary: What she finds there.
Notes: I wrote this on a plane. Seriously.
In the fireball that was Flight 87, service from San Diego to Seattle, I saw the first vision. More of a flash, really, as the inferno shifted to consume the tall, dry grasses of the field where it had been born. The face of a young boy formed in flame. I did not even realize what I was looking at until I blinked and he was gone. The image seared into my mind, but I could not tarry and wonder what I was seeing. I did not know if the second engine had burst yet.
Heedless, helpless, I stumbled over to the tail of the craft, which had split in two but was as of then untouched by fire. Luggage and machinery had fallen from the split belly of the plane like organs and guts from a pig; any path around the debris would take more precious minutes, so I picked my way straight through. A dog crate was upended among the suitcases and wiring. I avoided looking in, afraid of what I would see. Death was a frequent visitor at my door. That did not mean it got easier.
Finally I reached the tail. The fire was racing across the field, towards the drainage ditch. Away from me for now. I thought I heard shouting from the road behind me, so I looked back at the tail and craned to see the logo. A circle of stylized flames. A Pacific Air superjet, then. On one of its last flights before the company would be dissolved. The Ring of Fire was still considered too dangerous to serve exclusively. I had been surprised they had lasted so long, when I heard the reports that they were finally going under.
Now, I was finding it hard to breathe through the tears of relief, and guilt. Relief because my brother was not reduced to one of the bodies strewn about the wreckage of a downed plane in the pocket of nowhere formerly known as a San Fransisco suburb - not yet anyway - and guilt that other people were. Other brothers. Other sisters.
I had seen Lee off on his flight before going with two friends to dive the sunken city and explore the few buildings left on dry ground. Eventually we split - I was too nervous about the deeper parts of the underwater ruins - and I ended up perched on the twisted mess of metal that was the Golden Gate Bridge, watching the birds swooping in strange formations in the sky. My eye caught a jet headed north and I traced its path, imagining that it was Lee’s jet, on the first leg of his journey to better places. Places whose glory was not long gone. Los Angeles was a wild town now, as everyone who could leave had following the first tsunami, let alone the second. San Diego was a little better, but it had taken most of the refugees from L.A. and San Fransisco and was suffering from overcrowding and rioting. Lee could leave and find work up north. I was only sixteen and my parents were determined not to lose their other child so soon.
Then the jet had started to fall. There was no smoke, no sound but for the birds erupting from the trees in its path and, as it came closer, a heavy woooosh of the air parting beneath the massive fuselage. My chest hurt as I watched, unable to look away. What I thought then was Lee’s jet crashed out of my sight, but who could miss the noise as it came to earth? I had just seen hundreds of people die all at once.
At the tail, staring at the mocking logo through a veil of salty tears, I remembered where I was when the wind turned and the smoke - thick, black, smelling of fuel and death - was sucked into my lungs by my hyperventilating sobs. I choked and hacked up a thick, dark gray phlegm. The flames were sure to follow the smoke, so I tore myself away, tottering over the field of debris towards the road. I could barely see people standing there, and hear shouting. Maybe they were shouting at me. I went faster, suddenly eager to get away from the wreckage. I needed to see my parents.
Behind me, the second engine exploded.
I heard the blast and turned instinctively, throwing up a hand to ward off the flames that came roaring towards me. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again I was on my back, draped over the dog carrier, staring up at the blue sky split in two by a column of smoke.
My back was the only thing that hurt. I brought my hands up to my face. They were covered in ash, but unharmed. What on Earth…?
“Oh my God!” a man shouted from somewhere to my right. A second later he appeared, eyes wide.
“What?” I said, stupidly.
“Was that…” he paused, made a wild gesture. “Did you just do magic?”
Challenges/Toppings/Extras: Chocolate #29 (relief), Red Hot Cinnamon #6 (where there’s smoke), FOTD: wamble (to move unsteadily) + Butterscotch
Rating: PG
Title: Corners of the Earth II
Summary: What she finds there.
Notes: I wrote this on a plane. Seriously.
In the fireball that was Flight 87, service from San Diego to Seattle, I saw the first vision. More of a flash, really, as the inferno shifted to consume the tall, dry grasses of the field where it had been born. The face of a young boy formed in flame. I did not even realize what I was looking at until I blinked and he was gone. The image seared into my mind, but I could not tarry and wonder what I was seeing. I did not know if the second engine had burst yet.
Heedless, helpless, I stumbled over to the tail of the craft, which had split in two but was as of then untouched by fire. Luggage and machinery had fallen from the split belly of the plane like organs and guts from a pig; any path around the debris would take more precious minutes, so I picked my way straight through. A dog crate was upended among the suitcases and wiring. I avoided looking in, afraid of what I would see. Death was a frequent visitor at my door. That did not mean it got easier.
Finally I reached the tail. The fire was racing across the field, towards the drainage ditch. Away from me for now. I thought I heard shouting from the road behind me, so I looked back at the tail and craned to see the logo. A circle of stylized flames. A Pacific Air superjet, then. On one of its last flights before the company would be dissolved. The Ring of Fire was still considered too dangerous to serve exclusively. I had been surprised they had lasted so long, when I heard the reports that they were finally going under.
Now, I was finding it hard to breathe through the tears of relief, and guilt. Relief because my brother was not reduced to one of the bodies strewn about the wreckage of a downed plane in the pocket of nowhere formerly known as a San Fransisco suburb - not yet anyway - and guilt that other people were. Other brothers. Other sisters.
I had seen Lee off on his flight before going with two friends to dive the sunken city and explore the few buildings left on dry ground. Eventually we split - I was too nervous about the deeper parts of the underwater ruins - and I ended up perched on the twisted mess of metal that was the Golden Gate Bridge, watching the birds swooping in strange formations in the sky. My eye caught a jet headed north and I traced its path, imagining that it was Lee’s jet, on the first leg of his journey to better places. Places whose glory was not long gone. Los Angeles was a wild town now, as everyone who could leave had following the first tsunami, let alone the second. San Diego was a little better, but it had taken most of the refugees from L.A. and San Fransisco and was suffering from overcrowding and rioting. Lee could leave and find work up north. I was only sixteen and my parents were determined not to lose their other child so soon.
Then the jet had started to fall. There was no smoke, no sound but for the birds erupting from the trees in its path and, as it came closer, a heavy woooosh of the air parting beneath the massive fuselage. My chest hurt as I watched, unable to look away. What I thought then was Lee’s jet crashed out of my sight, but who could miss the noise as it came to earth? I had just seen hundreds of people die all at once.
At the tail, staring at the mocking logo through a veil of salty tears, I remembered where I was when the wind turned and the smoke - thick, black, smelling of fuel and death - was sucked into my lungs by my hyperventilating sobs. I choked and hacked up a thick, dark gray phlegm. The flames were sure to follow the smoke, so I tore myself away, tottering over the field of debris towards the road. I could barely see people standing there, and hear shouting. Maybe they were shouting at me. I went faster, suddenly eager to get away from the wreckage. I needed to see my parents.
Behind me, the second engine exploded.
I heard the blast and turned instinctively, throwing up a hand to ward off the flames that came roaring towards me. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again I was on my back, draped over the dog carrier, staring up at the blue sky split in two by a column of smoke.
My back was the only thing that hurt. I brought my hands up to my face. They were covered in ash, but unharmed. What on Earth…?
“Oh my God!” a man shouted from somewhere to my right. A second later he appeared, eyes wide.
“What?” I said, stupidly.
“Was that…” he paused, made a wild gesture. “Did you just do magic?”