Crashed

Crashed

“Yes, Mr Avery will be at the airport in one hour. Make sure the limousine is waiting. The bar has to be supplied with a bottle of Macallan Fine and handmade chocolates; no fudge. Did you write that down?” Ms Jocelin impatiently tapped her pen on the paper. The plane shook in the turbulence, and she braced herself on the chair. “I know you can remember it,” she snapped. “You do know what will happen if you forget anything, don’t you? So do me a favour and write it down. Yes. Indeed. Thank you.”
Finally she disconnected the satellite connection. With a few firm scratches, she checked off the list. Everything would be arranged now. Mr Avery would be pleased. Unless he found something trivial to complaint about, of course.

The private plane was incredibly luxurious. Ward Avery travelled a lot, and he liked to do it in comfortable style. The fauteuils, even Ms Jocelin’s, were made of white leather. Along one of the sides it had a large sofa, which could transform into a bed when the journey took too long, or when Mr Avery was lazy. That happened a lot.
The plane had a kitchen and a bathroom, and at the back and below it had enough storage room to be fully supplied with everything one could ever think of. Not that Mr Avery ever thought of such items. He was only interested in his work.

At the age of thirty-eight, Ward Avery was one of the richest men in the world. He spent money as if it was water, and it came back at double speed. He didn’t really have to travel; he could demand everyone to come to him. But flying was the only thing he truly enjoyed. Besides, it was always better to visit the companies in person. It made them work harder.

“Ms Jocelin...” Ward grabbed the armrests of his chair as the plane shook. “Ms Jocelin, ask the pilot if he can avoid the storm. I can’t type when he shakes the plane like that.” The opened laptop slowly shifted towards the edge of the table, and he pushed it back.

“Yes, sir.” The secretary unbuckled, and stood up. She had to keep her balance on every surface, as the weather outside worsened. She could see the rain slashing against the windows, and saw the flashes of lightning. Slowly and carefully, she walked to the cabin.

Ward sighed annoyed, and shook his head. He secured his safety belt, and tried to see something through the window. He couldn’t see anything in the dark beside the lightning. He closed the hatch, cracked his knuckles, and focused on his laptop.

One second later, he was slung against the back of his fauteuil, his laptop crashed against his chest, and the world went dark.

*

“Ms Jocelin...?” Ward said it quietly, carefully. The shaking had stopped, but now he felt the plane moving slowly back and forth. He heard a soft creaking. It was still completely dark, and there were no voices. “Pilot?” he said a bit louder. “Hello? Anyone?”
As there was no answer, Ward carefully moved aside. His chair had tilted in an uncomfortable angle. He reached to the hatch in front of the window, and the creaking got louder. He cried out as there was a sense of weightlessness, and grunted at the thud. Now the moving had stopped, and the plane seemed reasonably level again. It still took a few minutes before he dared to unbuckle.

Shuffling, Ward made his way through the darkness. The door was at his left, he knew. The cabin at the front. He didn’t dare to open the door, so he decided to see if the pilot was alright. Ms Jocelin had been on her way to the man. Perhaps she was there. “Ms Jocelin?” His foot bumped into something soft, and he froze to the spot. Oh, dear. Tentatively, he knelt down, and reached out. “Jocelin! Wake up!” After a bit of prodding, Ward found the woman’s neck. He instantly knew something was terribly wrong. Heads usually didn’t move in an angle like that. “Oh gods,” he groaned. “Jocelin...” He didn’t get much time to mourn. A soft groan made him looking up, and he quickly rose to his feet. “Hello?”

“Mr Avery?” The male voice groaned again. “Are you alright?”

“Yes...” Ward’s eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, and he moved more securely now. The pilot was sitting in the chair, covered in glass and wet by the rain. “Are you?”

“Bruised,” the man said with difficulty. “Broke a rib or two, I believe. Help me out of here, will you?”

Ward quickly unbuckled the safety belt. He looked outside as the man put an arm around his neck, and saw trees. At least they were on land, and not in an ocean. “Ready?”

“Yes. Pull me up.” The pilot cursed as Ward pulled him out of the chair and into the plane. The door swung shut behind them, locking out the rain and giving a false sense of security. Ward lowered the man in the sofa, and sat down next to him.

“Ms Jocelin is dead,” Ward said blandly. “She was on her way to you. What happened?”

“We crashed,” said the pilot. He grunted again, shifting to sit as comfortable as possible.

Ward nodded in the dark. “I figured that out,” he said. It didn’t really hit him yet. The plane crashed somewhere, but they were still alive. Only Ms Jocelin... Ward shook his head before the image could reach his brain. “What’s you name?”

The pilot snickered softly, ending in a soft groan. “Lucky,” he said. “Lucky Tyrone, at your service...”

“Great,” Ward mumbled. “What’s in a name, hm?”

“We could’ve died, all of us,” Lucky remarked. “Could’ve burned...” He sniffed, as deeply as he could with his broken ribs. “Do you smell fire or fuel?”

“No...” Ward sniffed as well. “Smells normal to me. Where are we?”

“I don’t know, exactly. It all happened quite fast, you know, and my head hurts. I can’t think straight.”

“Perhaps we should sleep and see if it as bad as we think in the morning?” Ward felt like he was dreaming anyway. Perhaps it was all a nightmare.

But when he woke up, Ward knew it was all real.

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