Summary: Chuck, Sarah, the wilderness, and some bad guys.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and do not intend to profit in any way.
AN: I do plan to continue "The Story of the End", for those of you who asked. This shouldn't be more than a few chapters. I'm 1/2 of the way done, so expect another part this week.
-The Unknown-
The air tastes stale as I take another deep breath. Chuck has been tapping his hands on the tray-table incessantly, for the last twenty minutes. The music from his iPod isn't loud enough for me to hear, but I have no doubt his rhythm is horrible. I try shifting in my seat. Nothing alleviates the cloud of annoyance floating above my head. My last shred of patience disappears when Chuck goes into some fast paced drum solo.
"Chuck," I sigh out, but he is too busy bobbing his head to the song. There are even unintelligible sounds emanating from his lips. Reaching for the wire on his chest, I yank out his ear buds. He looks at me in astonishment. Embarrassment quickly follows.
"Sorry," he apologizes sheepishly. I will have none of it.
"Why don't you just go sit somewhere else? The plane is empty and I'd like some peace for once."
Shock crosses his face, before being replaced with grim determination. Packing up his player, he slams the tray-table closed and stands.
"Sue me for trying to have a little fun on this trip."
"Well you don't have to have fun next to me when there are 10 vacant seats for you to use."
"Of course Agent Walker. I think I'll just go have a chat with Skippy."
He stalks away and I crinkle my face in frustration, regret, anger, and almost every other emotion on the spectrum. Since Chucks almost extraction and my subsequent turn down of his offer, things have been strained. That's probably even a bit of an understatement.
We're fine when doing something to maintain our couple cover. Chuck has become quite the actor. Regular interactions and missions are another story. Fighting and snarky comments are a common occurrence. I don't think we've had a genuine conversation in weeks. Our current assignment isn't helping.
A few days ago, we received word that there was another scientist who may be able to get the Intersect out of Chuck's brain. Casey had to stay behind at the Buy More, but General Beckman wanted Chuck and I to proceed to Oregon.
I was happy for him, at first, but the more I thought about the last six months in LA, the less joyful I became. Part of my constant bad mood is my inner struggle to deny these feelings of attachment to my assignment. Chuck, on the other hand, has just been bipolar.
I shake my head to clear that train of thought and look around the tiny aircraft for a head of curly hair. He's nowhere to be found, but I put my other senses to use and hear his laughter coming from the cockpit. Something about flight simulators. Always the nerd.
Looking at my watch, I realize there are still a few hours before we reach the tiny airfield in Ashland. I was unable to sleep during the commercial flight to Sacramento and decide to attempt rest now that Chuck is otherwise occupied. It doesn't take long for my exhausted system to shut down.
BOOM!
I'm shaken awake by some monstrous sound. In my grogginess, I wonder if Chuck finally convinced Skippy to let him take over the controls. My cognizance returns and I wish that was the case. Instead, I see a massive hole in the plane's structure. It's still intact, but just barely. We've been hit by something.
"Chuck," I yell, getting out of my seat and into protective agent mode. I start out of the row, but the vehicle banks wildly, forcing me back. Looking out the window, I see nothing buy trees, very close trees. We're crashing.
After weighing my options, I quickly settle down and buckle my seatbelt. A screeching sound above draws my attention. I watch in horror as the plane breaks apart and I am separated from my companions. Cold air hits my face. Closing my eyes, I find religion and pray for this nightmare to be over.
The carriage jerks violently as it reaches tree level. Another seat is all that protects me from being assaulted by branches. Meeting intense resistance, the plane flips vertically and I see nothing but cold, hard ground approaching.
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Yes, this is one of those plane crashes in the mountains stories, with a Chuck twist. The rest of the chapters should be longer, but no by much. Let me know what you think.