Hey again. Here's another chapter. Longer than the last one but with no X-Men in it. As before if you want to sue, read the disclaimer at the beginning of the first chapter. Thanks to all those who reviewed. My responses will be at the bottom of this chapter. Well, I think that's about all, so on with the story.
After the Fall: Chapter Three, "Lake of Tears and Bones."
Rating: PG, for mention of death and bodies.
Beth awoke. She tried to open her eyes but when she did a blinding light flooded her vision and forced them shut. She was hurt, her whole body hurt. A dull pounding thumped near the front of her forehead, her back and legs stung, and she couldn't move. What was worse, she had no idea where she was. What's going on? Was she dead?
For one brief moment Bethany didn't remember what had happened. For one beautifully serene moment the events of the crash were unknown to her. That fading second when one first wakes up and the flow of thought has not yet started would be Beth's last peaceful moment for a long time.
All too suddenly that moment was crushed and memories began to float to the surface of Bethany's mind. The stifling smell of the plane, the sound of the engines winding down, the feel of the plane falling forward. With a sickly seesaw in her stomach, Beth remembered her mother, and it was the thought of Mom that made her open her eyes.
She was laying down on a bed, she knew that for sure. A very big, firm bed. Her clothes had changed too. Instead of the shirt and jeans; a thick papery, speckled hospital gown covered her bulging body. Her face was pointed to the ceiling so the first thing she saw was the bright fluorescent lights above the bed. With a great effort, her neck stiff and sore, she turned her head to the side and saw sea-green walls and a half-opened door. The long white curtain around the bed had been pulled back and bustled slightly as she moved. Sharp stabbing pains throbbed in her lower back and hands as she pushed herself up against the pillows.
It was then that she heard the faint, bug-like beeping of a hospital machine. Behind the white curtain was a very clunky looking machine with blinking yellow lights and tons of small green numbers. Next to this machine was a tall silver pole with a plastic pouch filled with a clear liquid. Long thin tubes sprouted from the bottom of the pouch and connected to the top of Beth's hands. Now she knew why her hands hurt when she moved. She also knew where she was.
The sound of footfalls drifted for somewhere outside. An elderly woman in a red shirt and long white jacket poked her curly head into the room. She had almost walked away when she realized Beth was awake.
"Oh, hello, sweetheart." said the women, as she moved to Bethany's bedside. "How are you feeling?"
Beth couldn't speak, her thoughts kept revolving around a beautiful Hispanic mama and the sinking tail of a silver bird. Instead she stared at the silver stethoscope resting against the woman's abdomen.
"Are you all right, sweetie?" she said, pressing a cool palm against Beth's forehead. "You feel warm."
The nurse reached into an inside pocket of her jacket and pulled out a tiny white thermometer.
"I'm fine." Beth said. She needed to find her mother. "Do you know where Zelda Bancrof-"
"Shhh. Don't talk or I won't get a good reading." Before Beth could ask, the nurse had stuck the thermometer in her mouth and she was forced to remain silent for the next few minutes. When the thermometer started to chirp, she was allowed to speak again.
"Do you know where my mother is? Is she here?" she asked, as the nurse read her temperature.
"99.9. Yep, you are a little warm, but that's to be expected." she said solemnly, shoving the thermometer back into her jacket. "What did you say, dear?"
"Look," Beth glanced at the gold name tag on her shirt. "Look, Mary, I was in a . . . an accident and I want to see my mom. Do you know where she is?"
Nurse Mary stared down at the bed sheets and began smoothing out the creases with her blue-veined hands.
"I'm sorry, dear, I don't know where your mother is at. Would you like me to check with the administration?"
Beth felt relief ease into her chest. "Yes, please."
"Aright, just stay here. I'll be back in a second." said Mary. Without looking at Beth, she swept out of the room and her footsteps could again be heard in the hall.
Bethany leaned back into her pillows, relieved but not completely calm. Mom was here, she had to be, but was she alright? What if she was crippled or brain damaged? What about all those other people on the plane?
Another stream of memories flooded her mind. That old man asleep in his plush green seat. The little blonde girl banging her hands on the tray. The girl's mother. Were all these people dead? The image of the plane's tail, half submerged and smoking, crept up again. How could anyone survive that? How did she?
Something had happened, something had saved her. What was it? She racked her brain but couldn't remember what had happened after the plane started to fall.
The footfalls returned. Sitting up straighter in her bed, Beth knew her mother was coming. She would come into the room and hold her and tell her she was fine. Mom would come and they'd go home (by car) and things would be normal again.
But the person who entered the room wasn't Mom or Mary. Bernadette Bancroft strode into the room, her back straight, her heels making sharp 'clack-clack' sounds as she came to Beth's side.
"There you are, Bethany." she said, pulling a plush plastic chair up to the bed and sitting down. She smoothed out her long black skirt with her gnarled hands.
"What are you doing here?" asked Beth, looking at Gran's all black outfit (plain button-down blouse, long skirt, heels, big black purse) and felt her meek hope float away.
"You were in a plane crash!" she said. The bluntness of the statement shocked Beth. "Where else would I be?"
"Where's Mom?" she asked. Instead of answering her, Gran cast her cool grey eyes to the hands folded neatly in her lap.
"Where is she?" Beth repeated.
"I'm not sure." she said. Her lips twitched. "You'll have to ask the doctor about that. Speaking of which, where is that man?"
Beth heard more footsteps as a man in a sea-green, papery suit and skullcap entered. He looked in his mid-forties, judging by the amount of grey, wavy hair poking out from under his paper cap.
"Oh, Dr. Davis, there you are." sighed Gran, patting her short steel-grey hair absent-mindedly.
"How is everyone?" he asked, a kind smile spreading on his aged face. He strode over to the machine, briefly examining the numbers and graphs, then came back to the bedside.
"Glad to see you're up, Miss Bancroft." he said, his eyes crinkled as he gave Beth one of his best smiles. "How do you feel?"
"A little sore." said she, glad she didn't have to be alone in a room with Gran. Maybe this doctor knew where Mom was?
"Oh, well that should pass. Let's check you out, shall we?" he said, pulling a stethoscope out from under his baggy shirt. He had Beth scoot over to the edge of the bed and pressed the silver disk to her chest and back.
"Breathe. Good. Take a deep breath for me. Great." he said, moving the disk here and there. Finally (Beth's back was starting to seize up from sitting straight for so long) he pulled away and stuck the stethoscope back under his shirt.
"Well, your breathing is fine. So is your heart rate." he said, taking a chart from the end of the bed, flipping pages as he spoke. "You do have some bruising along your back but that should clear up in the next few weeks."
"Don't worry, doctor. I'll take good care of her." said Gran, patting Beth's bruised knee gently.
"Doctor, do you know where my mother is? Have you seen her?" she asked as the doctor marked something on his chart.
Dr. Davis looked up sharply, his usual smile replaced by a shifty nervous look. An icy feeling rushed down Beth's torso. He didn't answer right away, instead he mimicked Gran and pulled another chair over to the bed. He sat down heavily, as if years of work and strain had just caught up with him.
"Miss Bancroft," he asked, leaning closer to her, concern in his dark eyes. "What do you remember about the crash?"
"Well, I remember I was heading to the bathroom when the plane started to . . . to . . . " She couldn't finish.
"That's alright, dear." said the doctor, rubbing his stubby hand down Beth's flabby arm. "Please continue."
"Anyway, I couldn't get to a seat and I was trying to get up. I remember feeling sick and dizzy, then the exit hatch opened. It was crazy, but I could still breathe."
"You could?" asked Dr. Davis, looking confused.
"Yeah. Something was helping me breathe. I don't remember what." Beth thought about it. She remembered something had been around her, protecting her. Then an image came to her mind. A transparent force encircling her. The bubble. The bubble had saved her. But, wait, the bubble had shone up before the plane started to crash. Where had it come from? She now remembered the headache she had just before it showed up. Had that caused it? Was it from God?
"Continue." said Dr. Davis again. She wouldn't tell him. He might think she's weird or something. Claiming a bubble from God had saved her.
"Yeah, I could breathe. After the hatch opened, I got sucked out. That's all I can remember."
"Hmm." hummed the doctor. He sat back in his chair and stared at Beth as though she were a puzzle, a problem on the operating table.
Gran, who had been listening silently, turned Dr. Davis.
"Doctor, who did she ever survive that? The wind alone should have killed her, then falling into the lake." she asked, her brow knitted. Maybe she was upset Beth had survived.
"Well, it seems your granddaughter was able to endure a fall from ten thousand feet in an un-breathable atmosphere. To my knowledge, no one has ever survived that."
They both looked at her. Beth felt her face heat up and her stomach shrivel. Was she a freak or something? Why hadn't she died? She forced herself to put those thoughts aside. There was something else she had to ask, something much more important.
"Doctor, have you seen my mother. Her name is Zelda Bancroft, she has black hair and she's skinny and short–,"
"Bethany," said Davis, reaching out his hands and grasping her shoulders, his eyes unbelievably sad. "The cost guard has been at the crash for hours, they are the ones that brought you here. I'm sorry to tell you this but you were the only one they found. They found you washed up on the beach, two miles from the crash. The others were still in the plane. I'm sorry, but it is very unlikely anyone else survived. That includes your mother."
He continued talking. He told her that the coast guard hadn't found any bodies yet, that they were trying to keep the plane from collapsing in the lake (sealing all the passengers in their watery graves). That it was no longer a search and rescue but a body cleanup.
But Bethany wasn't listening; she was thinking. She thought about her mom, standing in front of her vanity mirror back in Kentucky, applying lipstick. About how Mom had held her as she cried at her father's funeral two years ago (tears and snot soaking into her black dress). About the last time she would ever see her mother; the scared, desperate look on her face just before the hatch burst open. A pain welled up in her chest, gnawing and piercing; her lungs tightened and her eyes burned. Deep inside she had known Mom was dead, she could feel it in her bones. Mother rabbits can physically feel if their children have died and will kill themselves, they will eat at their own body (gnawing on the lucky foot). It felt as though she had tripped and was falling to the ground, shocked and scared, stomach turning to ice.
One single tear squeezed out from her eyelids and fell onto her chunky cheek, so hot it scorched, and slid down her face till it finally disappeared under the many folds of her double-chins.
"Don't" said Gran softly, placing a calloused hand on her arm. "There'll be plenty of time for that later."
She jerked her arm away just as someone knocked on the door. Looking up, Beth saw three of the strangest people she had ever seen enter the room.
Well, at last. Another chapter done. Who are those people, I wonder? You'll have to review to find out.
Review Response:
Absolute Omega: It's always nice to hear from you. Glad you still like my fic. The 'gratitude' in the professors eyes is just that, gratitude. Come on! The guy is in a wheelchair, he couldn't feel anything down there anyway (I'll probably get some flames for that comment). Glad you liked the 'you eat it' exchange, I just thought it was something they'd do (damn Jott to the seven rings of hell!), and I also thought Logan would be the one to break it up. And lastly, you don't know how much it means to me that you think this is intelligent for a Mary-sue. I've been getting a lot of heat from people (namely my friend Rose who just won't shut up) claiming this is the worst Sue they've read. It's nice to know someone thinks it's more than just teen-girl drabble. Well, hope you didn't mind the long response. Peace out, homes.
To DreamerLady: I appreciate the offer, though I'm not quite sure what a muse is ( sorry but I'm kinda new to the fanfic scene). If you could email me back with info on the subject then I'd be glad for the assistance. I'm grasping for any straws I can clutch at right about now, so any help would be good, and you can never have too much support. Hope you like this chap and that you email me. And P.S. good luck with the authors and the homework. Lo ;)