They say death is painless. That it goes without feeling. For Bailey Picket, this was far from the truth, for she was in agony like no other. Another thing far from the truth was that she was not dead, but very much alive.
Alive, she thought.
"Alive," she spoke the word out loud, reminding herself of the truth. "Guys?" she called, regaining some of her strength. She was in pain, but she could move. It was probably just soreness.
She opened her eyes and looked around. She was lying on cement about 50 feet away from the pier by the docks. The rest of her friends and team were nowhere to be seen. She looked out to sea, and sure enough, the burning carcass of the cruise liner she had lived, breathed, studied, loved, and made friends on was slowing sinking beneath the hungry waters. She slowly got up and walked to the pier, taking her time, for she was not in a hurry.
On her way to the pier, she passed buildings that had been partially obliterated in the blast. There were people all over, lying on the ground moaning, twitching; some were breathing, others were not. Her heart wanted to help them, but her brain knew there was no hope. After passing through that field of despair, she reached the end of the pier. She stared out across the water, staring at the place she had called home for the past few months. Thinking back on it now, she knew it was more than a home, but her life almost. She had had so many adventures on that boat. Her life was almost carefree. But that all ended just a few days ago, when people started trying to kill her. A lifetime to build; a few days to tear down.
When she was done mourning the loss of what she considered a part of herself, she gathered herself up as best she could, and staggered off towards the Superdome, the determined rally point. She didn't stop to search for her friends, because she didn't know if they made it off the floating deathtrap. She didn't know the death toll, but it would haunt her forever. She would have to show no regret for her actions to be free, but she could not stop regretting the day she had escaped, when others didn't.
She would never forgive herself for those who died aboard the S.S. Tipton. For all those who were dead or dying among an endless flame.
Here you go folks, the newest installment in the Spies In The Tipton trilogy. I know this is probably a little dark, but hey, Bailey just got thrown from a boat that was her home and life for the past months, and it is now burning and sinking in front of her. Also, the blast sent her and the rest of the team skyrocketing in all different directions because they were still in the air jumping for the gangplank when the boat exploded so they were caught by the blast from underneath. The reason they were not killed was because they were not hit with the full force of the blast and had armor on, whereas the bystanders were not so lucky, as seen by Bailey's description as she was walking to the pier. I will probably do chapters for the points of view for everyone and their trip to the Superdome (home of the Saints, my hometown football team, I might add :) soon. I start back at school tomorrow and I've been feeling crappy all weekend so i make promises. Hope you like my first chapter and remember, I'm always open to suggestions!
