"London is one of the international cities of fashion! Vivienna Westwood, Galliano, Stella McCartney, Manolo Blahnik, Jimmy Choo— they all started in London!"
Kurt clapped his hands for emphasis as he intensely stared at his boyfriend, who in return, just smiled.
"You've told me this a thousand times, sweetheart," Blaine said.
"I just want to make sure you remember."
The plane was full of these bubbling conversations as McKinley High's glee club, New Directions, was on their way to London to take part of a worldwide singing program showcasing musical styles from over a thirty different countries. It was going to be their last hurrah before some of the members graduate and follow different routes.
A slight shake causes the conversations to fall silent. Ding. The "Fasten Seatbelt" signs lights up. It is followed by a woman flight attendant's steady voice.
"Ladies and gentleman, the pilot has turned on the fasten seatbelts sign- please return to your seats with your seatbelts fastened."
The plane shakes again. Then it happens. Within seconds the plane begins to drop. Screams bounce off the plane's sides. Loose objects were flung around as everyone clambered to grab the oxygen masks. Hands fumbled with the masks between screams and deep breaths. Puff. Puff.
Frantic, garbled radio noises nearly drown out the screams of the passengers. The plane seems to have been falling for years, though it had only been a few seconds. It plummets for another millisecond before hitting the beach of a deserted island. It explodes into a horrific mirage of vibrant shades of reds and oranges.
It was a warzone. Fires were scattered along the previously untouched beach, weaving in and out of a massive amount of wreckage. The plane itself was split in half. One half was plowed into the sand, a wing sticking straight up, towering nearly ten stories into the sky. The other half jetted out from the water. Sporadic sparks burst from the plane's engine, showering down on the disaster zone on the beach.
The sand was cluttered with bodies. The grains clumped together with blood. Only a few people were up and moving about, trying to help whoever they could spot. There seemed to be more screams and cries than bodies. The engine was still revving, creating a deadly sound that drowned out the helpless cries of the people.
Kurt, who had just been talking of the fabulous fashion in London, now lay on the sand, unconscious. Blaine was covered in blood and hovering over his unconscious boyfriend's body. He cried frantically, trying to bring the life back into his lover's eyes.
Artie was conscious but immobile, stuck in the sand between a flaming hunk of the plane.
Puck pushed himself off the hot ground and lunged in the direction of his disabled friend. He latched his arms around Artie's chest and struggled to pull him away from the unstable fire.
Farther down on the beach, Mike sat between his girlfriend Tina, and his friend, Mercedes. Tina was without a pulse. Mike checked her wrist a dozen times, his heart pounding. He still couldn't find any sign that she was alive. He quickly turned to check on Mercedes, who was bleeding from the head and had a piece of shrapnel lodged into her side. Feeling helpless, Mike lowered his head to the ground and began to weep.
Rachel and Quinn huddled together a few feet away from the steaming engine of the plane. They stood for a brief second before Rachel laid eyes on Blaine trying to rouse Kurt. Quinn stood, paralyzed in fear.
Santana tried breathing life back into Brittany, but the blonde was not moving. Finn tried to nudge Santana out of the way, but she struggled against him. It took a few seconds before she finally caved, collapsing against Brittany's side in tears. Finn, who had taken a single CPR lesson his freshman year of high school, tried to revive the young girl.
Will stood in disbelief, surveying the damage around him. Other than his kids, he saw no survivors. He did see a number of nameless bodies, spread around haphazardly. He didn't know what to do. It was all fake. He was having a nightmare on the plane- flights always did that to him. But the rotting smell of flesh told him this was real life. In a moment of clarity, he rushed off to visit each cluster of struggling kids.
The scene around the crash was beautiful, tainted by the ugly crash. The ocean was spectacular with violet waves crashing on the beach against the plane. The beach gradated into jungle greens with thousand foot high peaks of mountains.
Terror. Smoke. Fumes.
Quinn still stood near the engine that grew louder with each passing second. Will rushed over to his student and lifted her up off the ground and tossing her over his shoulder. He pushed against the sand for a few dozen feet, letting the girl off next to Santana. Just then, he spotted Rachel frantically waving in his direction. He began to run in the direction he just came from, past the engine.
The engine, which had been increasingly in intensity, revved full blast. Will got sucked into the engine, hitting the blades with a sharp, sickening sound. The engine explodes, rocking the island, sending more pieces of fiery debris across the site.
The conscious members of the choir were in a state of disgusted shock. The man that had brought them all together was gone. Just like that. The men, who had been trying to appear stable for their female friends, could no longer hold in their fear. They were without a leader.
Finn clambered over to his girlfriend, his step-brother, and his step-brother's boyfriend. Blaine was still frantically trying to breathe life back into his boyfriend.
"Stop!" Finn rushed. "You need to tilt his head farther back. You're just blowing air right now."
Blaine was desperate to bring Kurt back, so he followed Finn's instructions.
"Breath, breath, pump, pump, pump," Finn said, coaching Blaine through it.
Through the commotion, it was hard to hear the metallic whine of the plane wing. The massive wing was bending at a crack. Teetering back and forth, it was just about to crash down on the sand. It was just about to crash down on the sand where Puck sat with Artie.
Rachel, who was sitting in a heap, heard the sound. She looked in the direction of the screech and saw the unknowing two on the ground. She lifts herself off the ground and stumbles in their direction as the wing sprays fuel. It cracks a little more, swaying against the wind.
"Puck!" She screams. "Puck! Move! Move! Get Artie out of there! The wing is falling!"
Confused, Puck looks up. He struggles to move his helpless friend. He lets out a throaty bellow as the wing starts to fall. Rachel nearly collides with the two. She takes hold of one side of Artie and helps Puck pull him away from the tipping wing.
Kurt gasps for breath. He is unaware of what is happening around him, horrified and disoriented.
The wing smashes to the ground. It lands on an already smoking piece of debris. In a hollow ka-boom! the wind explodes. It is an enormous blast, sending pieces of fiery metal everywhere.
Mike works through the explosion. The love of his life is gone, but he refuses to let himself think about it. He had to help save his friends. He thanked his father for making him take summer medical classes. He looks at the piece of shrapnel in Mercedes side. It was a dirty mess. He couldn't remove the metal- it was possibly holding her stomach together. Her head wound was bad, too. There was nothing he could do for her. He stood up and looked around.
Artie, Puck, and Rachel sat off to the distance in a silent sort of stupor. Kurt and Blaine cuddled together, comforting one another. Brittany, with the help of Finn, was now sitting upright next to Santana. Finn was helping Quinn over to Rachel. And Mike stood between his dead girlfriend and dying friend.
For the first time that afternoon, there was a settling calm over the island. The screams had stopped, the engine was gone, and the crying was soft and contained. There were still a few fires raging across the beach, but they were of no major threat.
Everyone gravitates together. They sit in a misshapen circle, all in a state of disbelief. After a while, Finn and Puck share soft words and stand up. They walked to the edge of the green brush of the forest.
"Where are Tina and Mercedes?" Brittany says, finally breaking the silence.
Mike, who had been staring at the sand, looked up, "Tina is dead. Mercedes is as good as dead."
Quinn whimpered a cry, but it is covered by Santana's voice,
"What do you mean, as good as dead?"
"She has a concussion and a dirt piece of metal stuck in her side," He snapped. "There isn't anything any of us can do to help her."
Finn and Puck arrived back with armfuls of wood. They silently dropped it, and then walked in the direction of the plane. Mike gave the group a hard stare before hopping to his feet and following the boys.
Kurt, Blaine, and Brittany decided to separate Tina and Mercedes. They moved Tina's limp body far away from Mercedes and their declared camp. After a few words, they decided to move the rest of the bodies to the area. Quinn joined in their help.
Puck tottered back with a torn business class chair. He wedged it into the sand and then lifted Artie off the ground and nestled him into it.
Santana followed Puck back to the plane wreckage. They were scavenging for something- anything. Rachel was quiet next to Artie.
Hours passed. The day faded. Rachel created a bonfire with the material Puck and Finn brought back from the edge of the woods.
There was a lot left to sort in the plane, but when the fire began to roar, the group called it a quit. They had managed to find some packaged airway food and drinks. It would have to last them for now. Tomorrow they'd resume their search.
Spread out across the beach was the survivors of the crash huddled around the fire. They were a scared group of teenagers without any idea what tomorrow held. All they knew is that if they were going to survive, they needed to stick together.
