Title: Chaos Theory 2/?
Author: Stepf
Diclaimers ect, on the first chapter.
Thanks: To everyone who reviewed the first chapter, just wow! I think that's the most reviews I've received for a WaT fic, especially chapter one of a WIP. I was going to hold off on this one, but since ya'll were so nice, here you go. Now it might be a while for chapter 3, I'm still writing it, but Ill get it up ASAP! Thank you again!
And on with the fun...who survived? Who didn't? Do you wish Catherine was on the plane too and was an unfortunate victim? Maybe next time for that plot bunny.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Howling wind. Bitter cold. Warm sunshine. Dampness. Pain. A lot of pain. Plane. Houghton. Since when do landings.no wait.crash. The thoughts fly through her mind as she becomes aware of her surroundings. Before moving, Sam takes inventory of the pain: nothing major except her head is pounding to beat the band. Blinking several times, she takes in the carnage around her. The plane has been decimated -- oxygen bags and electrical wiring and plastic pieces are hanging from various points in the ceiling. Turning, she sees Jack still next to her, eyes closed, blood freely flowing from a deep cut on his arm, his head resting lightly on his chest.
Lifting her arm and swallowing the pain that accompanies the action, she checks his pulse. Strong and steady, thank god. Quickly she looks him over and sees no other outward injuries, but he could be bleeding internally and she would have no idea. Looking around more fully now, Sam takes in a deep breath at the sight behind her. The back end of the plane is gone, just...gone. There are a mere two rows behind her, after that the remainder of the plane is scattered into the wilderness. She can see the path the plane took in the snow behind her. Scattered randomly in the trail is pieces of plane. A seat here, a bit of cabin there, a piece of the tail standing vertical out of the snow giving the illusion that the whole plane went head first into the ground, never to be seen again. She shudder slightly and turns back; she needs to look for other survivors.
Unbuckling her lap belt, Sam stands slowly, relieved when she doesn't get dizzy or disoriented. Carefully she steps around Jack, a task made easier by the fact that the row of seats in front of them are now upside down in back of the first row of seats.
She groans audibly as her sore body is forced to move. she'd much rather be still sleeping but that's not an option right now. They are in the middle of nowhere, and she doesn't even know where nowhere is. Standing in the remains of the aisle, she realizes that the man sitting across from Jack is nowhere to be seen. Shivering slightly, she searches that side of the plane, swiftly finding him. Dead. His seat had become dislodged in the crash, bouncing him around the cabin, finally coming to rest upside down in the row behind him. Reaching out a cold hand, she checks for a pulse despite the fact that she can tell just by looking at him he didn't make it.
"Dammit," she says and turns around. There had only been five people on the plane, the dead man-she never did know his name, herself, Jack and the two pilots.
Moving again, slowly she heads to the cockpit. Every part of her body seems to ache somehow, and now she is aware of a line of blood running down her forehead; she can feel it make its way down the side of her face. Reaching up, she wipes at it, her hand coming away covered in red liquid. Sighing audibly, Sam follows the trail of blood to an open gash at her hairline. Pulling her hand away, Sam figures its best not to touch it and risk infection.
She snorts at her own thought. "Like infection is the worst of my problems."
Walking to the cockpit, she pauses again at Jack, still in the same position as before, and breathing. Good sign. Walking to the cockpit door, Sam shivers, though this time she's not sure if it's from the cold, or the possibility that she and Jack are the only survivors on this flight.
Turning the door handle, she pushes slowly, hearing debris sliding with the movement of the door. Pushing a little harder, she gets it open enough to step in, but just barely. Before the crash the cockpit was just big enough to fit the pilot and co-pilot and another person. Now there is just enough room for her to squeeze in and survey the damage. From her non-professional perspective, it seems that the cockpit took the brunt of the force, the tail end not withstanding. The front end has similarly been shorn off the plane, metal and wiring littering the snow in front of them. The windshield is in one piece..about 100 yards in front of the plane. The lack of window makes the cockpit icy cold, moreso then the exposed cabin.
Looking down, she inspects the occupants. The co-pilot seems to be dead, a piece of metal sticking out from his abdomen. The pilot, however, appears to be unharmed. Leaning over, she touches his neck; it's warm. Not so easily, she finds a pulse, slow and erratic, but it's something. Pulling her hand back, she is startled when a hand reaches up and grabs hers.
The pilot had regained consciousness and is staring at her, the expression on his face looking like death itself. Pale face, eyes ringed with black bruising, blood marring his face.
"Shhhh," she says to him quietly. "It's going to be ok. Just relax. We need to get help."
He slowly shakes his head.
"Listen, we need to notify someone. Where's the radio?"
A grimace of pain flashes across his face and he indicates a spot on the decimated instrument panel. The radio is no use to them; the insides are now exposed, wiring hanging from every angle. Samantha curses lightly and is interrupted by an unsteady voice.
"Radioed.location."
"Ok, good. Just hang in there. I'll get you out of here, okay?"
Again the pilot shakes his head, and indicates for her to lean into him.
"Medical kit in the closet.bl.blankets too.and a map," he gets out before having to stop to catch his breath. Samantha is horrified, the man is accepting his fate, and trying to ensure her survival. "Try.try to get to a ranger station.use the.map."
"Look, you'll be coming with us, ok? You can show us the way."
He essentially ignores her. She can see he is worsening; his breathing is labored and whatever color was in his face is now gone. "Stick to the trails.marked. Better off.."
"Hang.."
As forcefully as he can, he cuts her off. "Promise me.trails."
She looks into his eyes and finally faces the truth: he isn't going to make it. He's probably bleeding internally by now. "I promise."
Finally he nods at her and closes his eyes, giving in. After a few minutes Sam checks his pulse; it's gone. He died in front of her and she could do nothing to stop it. Frustrated, she stands up and lets out a scream. All it does is echo interminably into the wilderness, with no one there to hear her except the animals.
tbc.......
Author: Stepf
Diclaimers ect, on the first chapter.
Thanks: To everyone who reviewed the first chapter, just wow! I think that's the most reviews I've received for a WaT fic, especially chapter one of a WIP. I was going to hold off on this one, but since ya'll were so nice, here you go. Now it might be a while for chapter 3, I'm still writing it, but Ill get it up ASAP! Thank you again!
And on with the fun...who survived? Who didn't? Do you wish Catherine was on the plane too and was an unfortunate victim? Maybe next time for that plot bunny.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Howling wind. Bitter cold. Warm sunshine. Dampness. Pain. A lot of pain. Plane. Houghton. Since when do landings.no wait.crash. The thoughts fly through her mind as she becomes aware of her surroundings. Before moving, Sam takes inventory of the pain: nothing major except her head is pounding to beat the band. Blinking several times, she takes in the carnage around her. The plane has been decimated -- oxygen bags and electrical wiring and plastic pieces are hanging from various points in the ceiling. Turning, she sees Jack still next to her, eyes closed, blood freely flowing from a deep cut on his arm, his head resting lightly on his chest.
Lifting her arm and swallowing the pain that accompanies the action, she checks his pulse. Strong and steady, thank god. Quickly she looks him over and sees no other outward injuries, but he could be bleeding internally and she would have no idea. Looking around more fully now, Sam takes in a deep breath at the sight behind her. The back end of the plane is gone, just...gone. There are a mere two rows behind her, after that the remainder of the plane is scattered into the wilderness. She can see the path the plane took in the snow behind her. Scattered randomly in the trail is pieces of plane. A seat here, a bit of cabin there, a piece of the tail standing vertical out of the snow giving the illusion that the whole plane went head first into the ground, never to be seen again. She shudder slightly and turns back; she needs to look for other survivors.
Unbuckling her lap belt, Sam stands slowly, relieved when she doesn't get dizzy or disoriented. Carefully she steps around Jack, a task made easier by the fact that the row of seats in front of them are now upside down in back of the first row of seats.
She groans audibly as her sore body is forced to move. she'd much rather be still sleeping but that's not an option right now. They are in the middle of nowhere, and she doesn't even know where nowhere is. Standing in the remains of the aisle, she realizes that the man sitting across from Jack is nowhere to be seen. Shivering slightly, she searches that side of the plane, swiftly finding him. Dead. His seat had become dislodged in the crash, bouncing him around the cabin, finally coming to rest upside down in the row behind him. Reaching out a cold hand, she checks for a pulse despite the fact that she can tell just by looking at him he didn't make it.
"Dammit," she says and turns around. There had only been five people on the plane, the dead man-she never did know his name, herself, Jack and the two pilots.
Moving again, slowly she heads to the cockpit. Every part of her body seems to ache somehow, and now she is aware of a line of blood running down her forehead; she can feel it make its way down the side of her face. Reaching up, she wipes at it, her hand coming away covered in red liquid. Sighing audibly, Sam follows the trail of blood to an open gash at her hairline. Pulling her hand away, Sam figures its best not to touch it and risk infection.
She snorts at her own thought. "Like infection is the worst of my problems."
Walking to the cockpit, she pauses again at Jack, still in the same position as before, and breathing. Good sign. Walking to the cockpit door, Sam shivers, though this time she's not sure if it's from the cold, or the possibility that she and Jack are the only survivors on this flight.
Turning the door handle, she pushes slowly, hearing debris sliding with the movement of the door. Pushing a little harder, she gets it open enough to step in, but just barely. Before the crash the cockpit was just big enough to fit the pilot and co-pilot and another person. Now there is just enough room for her to squeeze in and survey the damage. From her non-professional perspective, it seems that the cockpit took the brunt of the force, the tail end not withstanding. The front end has similarly been shorn off the plane, metal and wiring littering the snow in front of them. The windshield is in one piece..about 100 yards in front of the plane. The lack of window makes the cockpit icy cold, moreso then the exposed cabin.
Looking down, she inspects the occupants. The co-pilot seems to be dead, a piece of metal sticking out from his abdomen. The pilot, however, appears to be unharmed. Leaning over, she touches his neck; it's warm. Not so easily, she finds a pulse, slow and erratic, but it's something. Pulling her hand back, she is startled when a hand reaches up and grabs hers.
The pilot had regained consciousness and is staring at her, the expression on his face looking like death itself. Pale face, eyes ringed with black bruising, blood marring his face.
"Shhhh," she says to him quietly. "It's going to be ok. Just relax. We need to get help."
He slowly shakes his head.
"Listen, we need to notify someone. Where's the radio?"
A grimace of pain flashes across his face and he indicates a spot on the decimated instrument panel. The radio is no use to them; the insides are now exposed, wiring hanging from every angle. Samantha curses lightly and is interrupted by an unsteady voice.
"Radioed.location."
"Ok, good. Just hang in there. I'll get you out of here, okay?"
Again the pilot shakes his head, and indicates for her to lean into him.
"Medical kit in the closet.bl.blankets too.and a map," he gets out before having to stop to catch his breath. Samantha is horrified, the man is accepting his fate, and trying to ensure her survival. "Try.try to get to a ranger station.use the.map."
"Look, you'll be coming with us, ok? You can show us the way."
He essentially ignores her. She can see he is worsening; his breathing is labored and whatever color was in his face is now gone. "Stick to the trails.marked. Better off.."
"Hang.."
As forcefully as he can, he cuts her off. "Promise me.trails."
She looks into his eyes and finally faces the truth: he isn't going to make it. He's probably bleeding internally by now. "I promise."
Finally he nods at her and closes his eyes, giving in. After a few minutes Sam checks his pulse; it's gone. He died in front of her and she could do nothing to stop it. Frustrated, she stands up and lets out a scream. All it does is echo interminably into the wilderness, with no one there to hear her except the animals.
tbc.......
