Acceleration

I have only experienced moments like this in my nightmares. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to me, not to anybody. The mathematics say that it’s a one in a million chance. So much for that theory. It figures that I would be one of the unlucky ones.

Looking around, I see the fear in the eyes of the people around me. One man is being violently sick, the brown paper bag that’s usually used in the event of nausea lay forgotten. Another girl is trying to breath deeply and calm herself. By the looks of her, she’s far too shallow to try deep breathing. The elderly couple next to me hold onto one another, their faces passive as though they expected this to happen and are ready for what occurs. A baby is being cradled by her grief-stricken mother in the row across from me. She seems so peaceful, letting out a soft yawn as another passenger lets out a scream. I envy her lack of conscience. The guy next to them is peering almost mesmerised through the window at the sky outside.

I pull my eyes away and look through my own window, in some vain attempt to see some kind of heaven. Hell, I’d settle with seeing anything apart from the shuddering inner walls and pointless oxygen masks dangling hopelessly from the ceiling. As if they’ll help anyone now.

We’re gathering speed.

I catch my reflection in the perspex before turning away. My face seems somewhat calm, which shocks me. I’m prematurely pale and I feel cold. Somehow I can feel the blood rushing to my heart in panic, fight or flight response. Ironic, as my flight has turned out somewhat differently to what I had imagined. I grasp the armrest, my knuckles white as I brace myself.

Calls of “MAYDAY!” are heard through the cabin. The pilot has forgotten to turn the intercom off. One last mistake on his part before impact.

Oh god, here we go.