Part I: How it Started
Chapter Four


The next fifteen months went through a normal routine. Chelsea set up a living quarters in the basement and spent almost the entire day every day typing up ideas on my typewriter. I did have a pretty easy time looking after her, and she was fairly happy living with me. The only thing that bugged me was that she seemed to burn the candle at both ends with her writing, which made it difficult to sleep at night; but I got used to it after two weeks and slept through the sound of her typing away.

At the end of those fifteen months, she finished her story and was ready to share it with me. I brought her to the kitchen to read it to me.

"Dass a lotta papers ya got dere, Chelsea."

"Yeah, I'm sure it is." She set down the thick stack on the table, which creaked under the weight.

"Aright, less see what we got 'ere." I pulled up a seat opposite Chelsea, who sat down on her crate before fingering through the stack.

Before she could start, I heard a noise in the distance. "Wuss dat?"

Chelsea looked around for the source of the sound. "I don't know."

"Souns like iss comin' from ou'side; less go check it out."

We headed out the back door, and the noise was almost deafening. With hands over our ears, we looked around until Chelsea pointed over my head. I turned around and saw an airplane flying low toward the house with fire billowing from both engines.

"GET DOWN!" I yelled to Chelsea, and we both jumped down on our frontsides and covered our heads with our hands.

The plane whooshed over the house, and second later, I heard a loud thud on the other side where the driveway was. Chelsea and I got up and ran around the house, which the plane had missed completely. When we saw the plane, it was rolling down the driveway at a high rate of speed.

"Get back inside; I'll meet up wicha lader."

Chelsea went inside as I ran after the plane that had landed on my driveway. I didn't know for how much longer it was going to move, but it had to stop sometime. It finally did, and as soon as I caught up with it, slides had been deployed and people were sliding out. The engines were still burning, and people on both sides of the plane were scrambling down the driveway toward my house. They didn't get far past the back of the plane before they were stopped by voices inside the plane yelling at them to wait.

Eventually, people stopped coming out of the plane, and the flight attendants were counting the people that were standing behind the burning plane. I saw two men who I assumed were the pilots standing by the front of the plane talking. I walked around the right side of the plane, making sure to keep a respectful distance from the smoldering engine, and approached the pilots.

As soon as they caught sight of me, they looked to each other in confusion.

The pilot with black hair spoke first. "Was he on the plane?"

The brown-haired pilot shrugged. "I don't think so."

"Naw, I wuz'n on dis 'ere plane; I own da wheat fields dat you'd landed on (wish, by da way, wuz a purdy sp'tak'lar job if I do say so ma'self)."

The brown-haired pilot looked up and nodded. "Yeah, it is. Of course, we still need to make sure the passengers all made it out okay."

"So, whuddre yer guyz' names?"

The pilot with black hair answered me. "I'm David Grison, and this is James Murphy. He's the captain, I'm the copilot."

"Frank Torrington. I been a wheat farmer fer a li'l more dan two years." We shook hands before I asked them, "How many folks 'ad been on da plane?"

Captain Murphy took a slip of paper from his shirt pocket. "Let's see... there were four cabin crew, the two of us, and... 130 passengers. That makes 136 total."

"Wuss say we head back to da back an' see if dey're all dere?"

"Yeah, let's do that." First Officer Grison led the way.

We were met by one of the flight attendants. "Everyone made it out, Captain; everyone's safe."

"Excellent. Now we need to figure out where to go until rescue arrives."

"I'm purdy sure ma' barn can 'old 'underd-tirty-siss people fer da time bein'. Follow me."

As I led the crowd away from the melting plane, I saw Chelsea walking down the driveway towards me. "We're headin' inta da barn, Chelsea. I could use sum 'elp gettin' ev'ryone settl'd in dere."

She nodded and headed to the barn to open the doors.

The passengers were quick to enter, but eight of the passengers stayed outside surveying the area.

The eight people that stayed outside looked uncannily similar to one another. They were all wearing white (their lab coats, shoes, even their skin) and one of eight different colors (their undershirts, leg clothing, eyes, even their hair was their special color). The order in which they were standing formed a rainbow between them.

Ignoring the oddity of their appearances, I beckoned them, "You folks joinin' de odders inside or wut?"

The blue man answered in a British voice. "Okay, okay, we're going in."

After they were herded inside, I shut the door behind me as I followed them.