Chuck Greene was a man of many talents. Whether it be combing strange objects to create stranger weapons, defeating hordes of infected humans throughout a mall setting, or appearing in a dress meant for a mid-20's lady, it didn't matter. No talent, however, came close to the love and devotion reserved for his daughter.
Planes however were not something Chuck was talented at. It felt more like a curse to him, creating fits of sickness and paranoia of the absurd. He had always had a fear of crashing while aboard a plane. This made traveling difficult, but sadly necessary due to job complications.
The aisle and seat room were too narrow for his comfort, allowing him little space to stretch his long legs. The plane was chilly, turbulence was irritating, and there was always that one baby crying in the back. Always a baby.
Chuck was stuck in the middle of the three seat section.
To his left sat an elderly woman who had asked previously to sit next to him. She was reading a book currently, with a glass of some unknown champagne resting on the extendable tray.
To his right sat his energetic daughter, who was currently nose deep in a game on her GameBoy. Chuck watched as the little Italian plumber jumped over gape after gape, with the occasional goomba or koopa scattered about. As much as he wished to tell his daughter to lower the volume of the game, he didn't have the heart to ruin her fun. Her tongue stuck out in concentration, so interrupting her would probably "throw her off her mojo" as she liked to say.
Chuck looked out the window, gazing at the clouds that began overhead. They grew closer, probably in an attempt to swallow the plane whole. He scolded himself. Last thing he needed was to disturb himself even more.
His headache only began there. Turbulence started getting more and more common, lights would flicker occasionally, and the games volume started really pounding at his skull. Just then the intercom played a familiar tune, grabbing the attention of passengers.
"Folks, we may be expecting some more shaky weather, please remember to fasten your seatbelts and hopefully the bumpy ride will subside", the pilot said, finishing with a nervous chuckle.
That really didn't sit well with Chuck. Neither did it with his stomach.
How wrong the pilot was. The weather was seeming to get harsher by the minute. Rain pelted the windows in a violent manner and thunder echoed in the distance. Mothers were trying to calm the freaked children, and flight attendants trying to calm the freaked mothers.
To his left the elderly lady had previously retracted the tray and had stowed the book away in her carryon. She has finished her champagne a while ago and all that was left was an empty cup she had squeezed tightly in her hand, making her knuckles white.
To his right sat his beloved daughter who still had her nose deep in the game, the weather seemingly unimportant to her. The little Italian plumber was now swimming, dodging squids and green fish alike. The volume still wasn't any softer, the music really getting to Chuck. The panic probably didn't help.
The familiar tune came once again. Chuck really tried his hardest to hear past the muffled screams and cries.
The pilot's voice was accompanied with the sound of beeping. "Uhhh folks, I don't want to worry you, but we may be having some slight problems". To that the entire cabin complained. The howling of the sound got louder and louder. Between the games music and the passenger's complaints the noise level was insane.
A loud explosion was heard. A really reeeeally loud explosion was heard. Chuck's first instinct was to protect his daughter. As he rushed to cover her, using his own body as a shield, he caught a glimpse out the window of what exploded.
The turbine. The only thing that was keeping them up, had just exploded.
Screaming was defiantly accompanying the sound of the plane going down. What a way to die, thought Chuck bitterly. He was just sad that his daughter was here to die with him. How horribly poetic.
Every alarm imaginable was blaring. The plummet felt awful, and crashing certainly didn't feel like a cake walk. The scrape noises occurred when the exterior was being ripped painfully off the plane. The wings were lost first, next the tail, and finally almost the entire back end was gone.
Chuck's midsection had hurt from the violent shake he had endured, the seatbelt digging into his waist. His eyes took a while to focus, and when it finally did the plane was a wreck. Bits and pieces of metal were flung everywhere, seats were ripped from the hinges, and luggage was throw about as if the plane had a hissy fit and decided their previous location was unacceptable. The cock pit was completely gone.
Bummer.
To his left sat the elderly woman. He body hung limply in the chair, cuts and bruises adorned her body. Chuck didn't have to check the pulse to know her frail body probably didn't make it. He sighed.
To his left also sat his daughter, who although was protected and suffered little abrasions, was unconscious. In her hand sat the blasted GameBoy. The game still functioned surprisingly, the only damage looked to be a cracked screen. The games music echoed in the disturbing silence. The little Italian man no longer moving gracefully across the screen, but instead sat still, staring into nothingness.
After about a second or two though, a koopa approached the man, and had killed him. The game over music played, the face of the man in utter shock and terror. Chuck would have, well chuckled due to the irony, if he currently wasn't about to pass out. All he remembers though is the main menu screen, and asking if he wanted to continue. Chuck chose no, and finally blacked out.