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With the whole SF thing...It's not really a block. I have the entire next chapter planned out, but I can't seem to get the pictures into words. So I'm taking a break until I can manage to write it.
Also...this will have a lot of LOST quotes/scenes, but will eventually break away a lot bc there are two of them instead of a big group. So...I hope that doesn't bother you. It shouldn't for those of you who don't watch the show.
They're All Dead and Gone
"Fear is an emotion indispensable for survival."
Seconds passed by like hours as Cameron stood gaping at what had once been their plane. She lowered her hands from her ears long after the explosion had ended, her arms hanging limply by her sides. She opened her mouth to speak but the words refused to come. The woman beside her seemed to be equally in shock, staring blankly at the scene in front of them. "They're dead," the blonde finally whispered, her mind barely able to grasp the number of bodies on the ground and inside the plane.
The brunette let out a long breath and tore her eyes away from the fuselage, leaning heavily back against the tree behind her. She opened her mouth to speak and made a slight gesture with her hands then shut her mouth again and crossed her arms tightly across her chest. She moved to stand up straight again, grimacing and reaching to clutch her side.
"You're hurt," Cameron stated, slowly turning to take in the girl's full appearance. Blood from what looked to be like only a minor cut on the side of her head was drying on her face but the side of her light grey tank top was completely soaked with the crimson liquid. "I could-" She motioned toward the woman's side, cut off by her staggering back toward the crash. "Hey!" she stumbled after her. "What are you doing?"
"Our plane just - it just…" The younger woman made a few ambiguous hand movements toward the smoking wreckage. "Who's to say it won't happen again?" Her mind seemed to be on autopilot as she approached the debris. She grabbed a dark brown suitcase discarded on the sand and began dragging it back toward the trees.
Cameron stood there and stared for a moment, trying to understand what was happening. Tears were still running down her face but she barely noticed them. "You really shouldn't-" She realized her words were useless and she scrubbed at her face. Choking over smoke, she grabbed a blue bag and began to pull it further up the beach. It was a good idea; incase there was another explosion. They might need the supplies until rescue showed up.
The older woman felt useless, working at half the speed of dragging luggage than the brunette. Shock effected everyone differently and while the younger woman barely seemed to be even thinking as she worked, Cameron felt like she was watching herself from space and couldn't help but be sluggish; it was a struggle to make her limbs corporate with what her brain told them to do. She lost count of how many bags she had moved after only five, unable to focus on reality. She began silently praying to a God that she didn't believe in that Chase hadn't been in the fuselage and that he was alright. It was all she could think about.
"I think that's all of them," the brunette stated, her eyes scanning the area. She dropped down onto the sand beside the pile of suitcases and placed her hand on her side then pulled it back to look at the blood. "Someone has to have bandages," she mumbled under her breath before turning and beginning to open bags.
Everything was moving too fast for Cameron. It took about ten seconds before anything the other woman said even started to process in her head. She stumbled forward and dropped to her knees, going through people's things before she even knew what it was that she was looking for. "Does it need stitches?" she asked, pulling out a travel sized sewing pack. She held it up, looking at the thread and needles inside. "What about your head? You might have a concussion."
The younger woman brought her fingers to the side of her head, rubbing slightly at the dried blood as if she just realized it was there. She lowered her hand and glanced at her fingers before rubbing them against her pants. "I don't have a concussion," she stated as she began to look through the bags again. "I just need a bandaid."
"Are you sure?" Cameron asked, still gripping the sewing kit. "I mean- I mean-" she fumbled for words. "Are you dizzy at all? If you have a con-"
"I'm a doctor," the other woman answered in a mumble. "I think I would know if I have a concussion." She finally pulled out a small first-aid kit and opened it up, sorting through its contents. "Who the hell doesn't pack bandages in their first-aid kit? What's the point of even putting a-"
"Hey," Cameron cut off her rambling, trying to snap her out of it. She got to her knees, leaning over one of the suitcases to peer into the plastic container. "Right here," she stated, grabbing the roll of gauze and medical tape. She held them up for the brunette to see, tilting her head slightly to the side.
The other woman gaped at the supplies for a moment before glancing down at the first-aid kit again in bewilderment. She let out a small breath through her mouth and brought her hands to her forehead then ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't have a concussion," she stated.
"And I don't believe you, but I think your side needs more attention than your head does." Cameron crawled over one of the suitcases and put the supplies back down in the first-aid kit. She carefully lifted the woman's shirt a few inches, studying the cut. "You're going to need to take this off," she stated, tugging at the material.
"You must have done a lot of jean patching or drape sewing or something to be so confident in your sewing abilities," the younger woman stated. She tried to twist back far enough to look at the cut then shook her head and pulled her shirt up over her head.
Cameron stared at her for a moment then managed a slight smile. "I'm a doctor too," she informed her. "I don't know about jean patching, but I've stitched up enough patients." She settled herself back on her bottom, almost thankful for the chance to go into doctor mode. It wasn't that she was happy the other woman was injured, but the cut wasn't too bad and it provided a distraction from her surroundings. She turned to the first-aid kit again and rustled through it. "I don't see any peroxide," she stated, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips. The chance of infection from sewing the woman up with an improper needle and thread was high enough without taking their situation into consideration.
The brunette stared at the container for a moment before digging into the pocket of her jeans. "Here," she said, slowly pulling out a small bottle of liquor from the airline's stash. "It's probably the only thing on me still in one piece." She paused as Cameron stared at her. "What?"
"Nothing." Cameron shook her head and took the bottle from her then examined it carefully. There wasn't a crack on it. She twisted open the top then poured some of it onto her hands.
"Save some for me," the younger woman said quickly, tensing when Cameron stared at her once more. "For the wound." She motioned toward the cut on her side.
"I know that." Cameron finished dumping half of it on her hands, rubbing them together before focusing on the cut. "This is going to sting," she warned her then pursed her lips together in a sympathetic expression. She eased herself up onto her knees again, placing a hand on the younger woman's side as she dumped the rest of the alcohol over the cut.
Hissing loudly, the injured woman clutched her pantslegs and clamped her eyes shut. "Fu-"
"You're doing fine," Cameron assured her. She dropped the empty bottle on the sand then grabbed the sewing kit and flipped it open. "Any color preference?" she asked lightly, trying to take the other woman's mind off the pain.
The brunette cracked her eyes open and glanced down at her options. "Out of white, pink, and black, I'm definitely going to go with the standard black. Who even uses pink thread on something?"
"What? You never get people requesting that you sew them up with pink thread?" Cameron teased her gently, taking out a needle and the black thread. She used the miniature scissors to clip off a long piece of the thread then closed one of her eyes as she slid it through the needle. "I get that request all the time."
The younger woman smiled slightly then squeezed her eyes shut again and grimaced as the needle pierced her skin. "I'm on a diagnostic team," she replied, her voice already thick with unshed tears. "I try to stick to cases and avoid doing anything involving sutures."
Cameron nodded. "I used to do diagnostics too. I'm head of the ER at a hospital in Chicago now. My uh, my friend that was on the plane with me is head of the OR." Her voice wavered throughout the sentence for multiple reasons.
"God, I hate the ER," the brunette stated. She cringed each time the needle went through her, her knuckles turning white as she held her pants. "That place is always such a madhouse. It's hard having to work so quickly and decide who you're going to treat sometimes." She left go of her jeans to quickly wipe at a few tears on her face before holding onto them again.
"Tell me about it," Cameron answered softly. "We had this school bus crash a few weeks ago. Most of the kids were younger than ten. Everyone was dodging stretchers and screaming parents." She breathed out and shook her head. "I had to pick between a five year old girl with a piece of metal lodged in her chest and virtually no hope and the driver who had severe lacerations all over his body from the windshield."
"Who did you choose?" the other woman asked quietly, opening her eyes to glance over at Cameron.
"I picked the girl," Cameron answered. "Her parents were hysterical, begging for someone to help her. A few of the other doctors tried telling me there was nothing that could be done. I hate telling families someone they love died, but even worse is telling them without knowing I did all I could."
"So she died," the brunette said quietly, shifting her gaze toward the ground.
"Nope," Cameron answered, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "She ended up being just fine. The driver lost one of his arms, but he kept his life too." She grabbed the scissors again and snipped the thread then put them and the needle back down. "All finished," she stated, grabbing the gauze and tape to bandage it up.
"Thank you." The younger woman looked at her blood-stained tank top then tossed it to the side. She dragged one of the suitcases closer to her and pulled out a slightly large, blue t-shirt, looking it over. When Cameron was done patching up her side, she slid the shirt over her head and straightened it out.
"Do you think there's anything we should do?" Cameron asked, slowly pushing herself to her feet. "I mean until rescue comes. It's going to be dark out soon and a fire might help them find us, right? They could at least see the flames if not the smoke."
"Yeah." Clenching her jaw in a grimace, the brunette slowly began looking through the suitcases once more. "I'll find a lighter or something if you want to gather some sticks."
Cameron nodded quickly. She walked the few feet to the tree line and scanned the ground for a moment before bending over and attempting to gather sticks that looked like they would make a good fire. It was a time like this that made her wish she had gone camping when Chase asked her to, or at least spent some time watching the discovery channel or something. A pile of dried leaves caught her attention and she grabbed those too, trying to balance everything in her arms. If the other woman didn't have to worry about her stitches ripping, she might have asked to switch jobs.
The blonde half carried, half dragged the sticks over to several feet away from the luggage. "I have no idea what I'm doing," she admitted as the younger woman approached her. "I don't think I've ever even seen a campfire before except for on TV."
"Well, I trust you know how to work a lighter." The brunette handed Cameron the lighter after she had dropped the tree parts to the ground. "I'll build it and you light it."
Cameron nodded. She took the lighter from her then stepped back a few feet as the younger woman lowered herself to her knees again. She flicked open the flame a few times as she watched their fire being built. "How long do you think it will take them to get here?"
"A few hours at the most," the other woman answered. "Unless it's hard for them to find us in the dark since the sun is setting. They should definitely be here sometime tomorrow morning."
Cameron nodded quickly and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Do you think they'll look for the other parts of the plane? My friend was…he was on his way to the bathroom."
"I had a friend near the back of the plane too," she answered with a sigh. "I don't see why they wouldn't look for the rest of the plane. There's some smoke coming from a valley over there." She glanced away from the fire and pointed toward the jungle. "If they don't come, we can find it. Even if there aren't any survivors, we could be able to find the transceiver. We might be able to send out a signal and help the rescue party find us." She got to her feet and motioned Cameron forward. "Light that."
Fiddling with the lighter, Cameron took a few steps forward and set to work on lighting the wood and leaves. "There," she mumbled when she finally got multiple places to catch. She turned to face the brunette as she dragged a few blankets from the plane over. "Did we manage to recover everything from inside?"
"Minus the people and the suitcases," the younger woman answered. "There's blankets, emergency meals, bottles of water…" She motioned back toward the luggage then set to spreading out the blankets on the sand.
"That's good." Cameron could feel tears stinging her eyes again. When the blankets were laid out, she slowly took a seat on one, not glancing over as the other woman sat down beside her. Letting out a shaky breath, she reached forward and grabbed a green leaf that had managed to get mixed into the pile of dried ones. She gently begin to fold it into the shape of the plane, trying to get her thoughts to stop racing.
"Amazing artwork," the brunette cut in, managing a slight smile. She held out her hand for the leave. "It looks just like our plane. One-hundred percent."
Cameron handed it over then slowly pulled her knees to her chest. "I don't understand how this happened," she murmured quietly.
The younger woman studied the leaf for a moment then held it up. "We had to have been at least 40,000 feet when it happened," she said.
"We must have hit an air pocket or something." Cameron reached to take the plane back from her.
The brunette smirked and smacked her hand away. "Hey," she said in a teasing voice that sounded slightly forced. "This is my explanation." She cleared her throat. "We hit an air pocket or something and dropped maybe 200 feet." She moved the plane downward for emphasis. "The turbulence was…" She shook her head and gently flew the leaf into the fire. "I blacked out."
"I didn't," Cameron answered. "I saw the whole thing. I knew the tail was gone, but I couldn't bring myself to look back. And then the front end of the plane broke off." She rubbed at her eyes then hugged her knees even tighter.
The brunette stared at her for a moment then leaned back against her elbows and stretched out her legs. "You know, I don't even know your name yet," she stated.
Cameron glanced over at her for a moment then looked down at the blanket. "Allison," she answered finally.
"Remy," the brunette replied with a slight smile. She leaned the rest of the way back and folded her arms behind her head. "Or Thirteen if you want to go by my hospital nickname."
Cameron glanced over at the sun then looked down at Remy, giving her a half smile. "I think I'll just go with Remy."
"Well, I answer to either," Remy replied with a slight grin. "Thirteen more than Remy these days though." She closed her eyes.
Cameron looked away from her again and stared at the fire, repeatedly blinking back tears. She wasn't sure how Remy could be quite so calm. The sun was beginning to go down and the approaching darkness were beginning to make her nerves even more of a wreck than they already were. God only knew what was in that jungle that was bound to come out in the middle of the night. While she had a fondness for pets, wild animals always scared her a little. Pressing her palms to her eyes, she leaned her face forward against her knees and started to silently cry.
"Are you okay?" Remy asked, sitting up and gently putting her hand on Cameron's back.
Cameron opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by what sounded like screeching metal. Her head snapped up and she looked at the plane. The noise came again, but from the jungle. She spun around to face the shaking trees, immediately gripping Remy's arm. "What was that?" she whispered in a high pitched voice. "That was weird, right?"
Remy stared wide eyed at the trees for a moment as the noise stopped and everything seemed calm again. "It was probably nothing," she stated, though she didn't sound so sure. She lowered herself onto her back again, her eyes focused on the jungle.
"Right," Cameron mumbled. She turned away from the jungle and tried to focus on the fire, automatically knowing she wasn't going to get any rest until rescue arrived.