A/N So I'm back, and if you're wondering what took me so damn long. Les Miserables. I was in the show and it ate up all my time. Then I was supposed to go to France (which would have made my life!) but the volcano blew its top so that didn't happen, I'm going in June though so it's not a total loss. So anyways, I really didn't have much time for this though I did work at it. In notebooks, my word processor is acting screwy as per usual. That's my lame excuse, so anyways. Here it is. Chapter two, half of this was written in a bright yellow spiral note book amongst other future endeavors but you my lucky readers get this first! Also, this chapter is inexplicably short just so I get it out to you, so sorry and not so sorry at the same time. Rant over. Cork, out.
Alfred felt a few things during the landing process. The first; something snapped like a chicken bone. It was either in him... or the controls, at that point he couldn't tell. The second was the back of his head colliding with the top of his head rest. Now, he was seeing stars. Rubbing his eyes he tried to force them away, all while keeping his glasses on his face.
He panicked, mind racing. Maybe his boss was right. Maybe he could, no would, kill them all. And this would be the day that not only did his career go to the dogs but his life was thrown away as well; that more than anything else in life scared him to the bone. As the thoughts kept surfacing he felt his stomach lurch forward, almost threatening him to keep focus the longer the ship fell.
"Matthew! Try to keep us from... well exploding!" He shouted, he could feel his knuckles turn white through the leather gloves along with his face as he stared at the ground which was rising at a more than alarming rate to greet them.
"Hello, this is the pilot speaking.... uh.... I'd like to point out to you lucky passengers of flight D362I that on the left you can see uh.... the beautiful lakes of this wonderful place and uh... on the right. Well some like to call it our near certain death, but uh.... you can call it the wing that's on fire. The seatbelt signal has been activated so sit your asses down and uh... don't move a bit. We'd like to thank you for making the stupid choice of choosing me as your pilot. Have a nice day!" He ended cheerfully, though none of it showed on his face. Directing his attention back to the tree tops which no longer looked like broccoli that he refused to eat the night before, no in fact now they look much more threatening, and large.
"Alfred! It's overheating!" Matthew called, or screamed, out to Alfred. The sounds of metal clashing with metal rang through the now silent cock pit.
"Y-you dolt! Land the goddamned ship correctly!" The echo of Arthur's voice echoed, breaking the silence. Alfred could tell he got up to shout that into an intercom. The sentence seemed to hang in Alfred's ears longer than intended.
He drew a large breath and held it for a moment before releasing it, going back to the task at hand which, was far from anything that he wanted to do. In fact he wanted to cry for his mother and give up when he felt the accelerator jam and not let itself lower.
"Mattie! Strap down to something! Best get away from the engine!" He shouted and looked to the wall, his rosary swaying and jumping with the turbulence. Then he looked at the ground. It was close. Uncomfortably close. So close that it could have been equated to Ivan being within two feet of anyone that could breathe with a scalpel, or a butcher knife.
He reached for the beads on the wall, yanking them down with all his might, the string broke and sent the beads flying in every direction. He ignored this fact and held them firm in his grasp. The leather squeaking in a way that would normally make any grade school boy or Alfred himself giggle any other day.
It was a rare occasion in which Alfred found himself praying. It wasn't included in his normal to-do list, (which was hardly a to-do list since none of it ever got done unless he found it fun) it never made his to-do list. The only exception was the first time he ate Arthur's food and later that night thought a tape worm had entered his stomach.
"Okay... uh... God. Yeah, it'd be really sweet if you didn't kill us all. And I mean no one. I'm not trying to be funny or something. I don't want to die or kill someone. So if you could somehow work it out in your busy schedule... well that'd be awesome! Thanks." He said and threw the beads on the ground trying to handle the beast of landing.
What degree of an angle did he have to be at to crash and live? Was it 22? No, even he could remember that would probably kill him. 15? Yeah, 15 sounded good. But, how would he know when it was 15 degrees? Was there even something to tell him? He knew he needed to pay attention when he was told these things more often.
Alfred heard a yelp or two and numerous crashes (amongst the cursing that could only have come from Arthur), instantly deciding hard turns were not the best moves to make while gravity was an issue. Before he realized what he was doing his hand reached out for the microphone and what he called 'word vomit' began to sound out of the speakers.
"So guys… yeah, this doesn't look like it'll be our best day ever. But if you could just uh… take off your seat belts and hang on real tight that'd be sweet." He said stifling the nervous laughter while he unbuckled his own seat belt. "Show you I don't know how to fix these problems, boss." He whispered setting the microphone down anticipating the crash. The seconds turned into hours, until finally Alfred felt the jolt he knew would finally end the fall before he was knocked out of his chair, sliding across the floor and colliding against the wall.