Last minute packing never works out well. It wasn't anything particularly new to me; I had packed for everything from overnight stays at a relative's house all the way to an eleven day backpacking trip. Still, when I hurried I had a nasty tendency to forget things.
"Glen! Your plane leaves at twelve thirty!"
"I know, mom!" I called back down as I gathered my suitcase in my arms, flying down the stairs as I tried not to overbalance. Unfortunately, when you carry the suitcase in front of you like an absolute moron, things tend to happen. That 'thing' was my foot slipping off a step. In my own defense, I couldn't see where my feet were because of the suitcase. Then again, you could also argue that I caused the situation in the first place.
With a little luck and a lot of coordination, I managed to catch myself on one knee before I completed the journey like a tumbleweed.
"Glen! Are you okay?" cried my mom, rushing over to try and take the suitcase off my hands.
"Mom, it's fine. Just slipped a little." I grinned, holding the suitcase out of her reach before finally setting foot on the cold hardwood floor. "Besides, you've seen my rugby games. I take harder hits than that all the time."
The mere mention of my school sponsored sport brought forth a sigh of consternation. My mom looked up into my face, our hazel eyes connecting.
"You know I don't like that. You'll get hurt, or a concussion, and it'll affect your future."
"I'm fine, mom," I chuckled, taking up an exaggerated bodybuilder pose. "I'm a big, strong young lad. The people who need to worry are those on the opposite team. No concussions, no major injuries."
"Except for the two broken fingers," she laughed lightly, knocking down my arm.
"Those weren't even broken playing rugby! Besides, they're not major injuries," I protested valiantly.
"You had to have surgery to get one back in the right place, all because of your stress inducing obsession with running around and over things and climbing everything in sight."
"I did have to have surgery," I conceded. My mother sighed once more, pushing her shoulder length blond hair behind her ear. "Now, I need to get moving, or I'm going to miss that flight."
"Yes. Yes, go!" She said, waving me on.
I grabbed the suitcase and extended the handle, dragging it through the front hall and out the door. For a summer morning in Houston it wasn't too bad. That is to say it was a mere ninety degrees and very, very humid. The sun beat down on me as I loaded the suitcase into my painfully old maroon Corolla. I swear I saw the rear suspension sink as I slammed the hood shut, another chip of paint falling off.
Hustling back inside for my carry-on, I slung the hiking pack over my shoulder.
"Luke! Shelby! I'm leaving! I yelled out upstairs. Scant seconds later, there was a commotion above my head. Thump thump thump thump thumpathumpathump. My two younger siblings came tearing down the stairs, my sister flinging herself at me first. I braced and caught her as she wrapped her arms around me.
"Bye Glenny! I'll miss you!" Shelby said, as she continued to try and crush me.
"Bye Shelby. Gahhh, you're getting big. I'll miss you too."
Just as Shelby removed herself, Luke came in and gave me a hug before we exchanged our secret handshake.
Clasp. Switch. Fly it up. Slide out, snap, fistbump- boom!
I looked fondly at my little brother, ruffling his hair as he squawked in protest.
"Love you Luke. I'm gonna miss you bro," I said.
"Me too, broski. Do some awesome stuff! Dive really deep-"
"No! No. Stay safe, Glen. Don't do any of that!" my mother quickly interjected. I turned and spoke to my brother in a stage whisper.
"Don't worry Luke. I'll just jump out of the plane when we're passing overhead and swan dive into the ocean and go, oh I don't know, two hundred feet right down-"
"Glen! It's not funny. Don't even joke about that," she reprimanded. I chuckled, straightening out from where I had bent over to talk to Luke.
"I'll be safe mom. Don't worry." A brief moment of silence was held until I broke it by turning and walking back out the door. "Goodbye guys! Love you!"
"Bye! Love you too!" chorused Luke and Shelby, before dashing off to whatever they had been doing before. I slung the bag in the back of the vehicle, clambering in and turning over the engine. At least this two and a half thousand dollar junk pile ran, drove, and had AC. Air conditioning was absolutely mission critical down here.
"Be safe Glen." My mom waved as I shifted the car into reverse. "I miss you already." I pulled out slowly, mindful that the majority of accidents occur going backwards. And if you know anything about the insurance premiums of a seventeen year old male…you do not need an accident to bump those rates up.
"Miss you too!" I called out the open window, waving back. I fiddled with the shifter, finally managing to get it to clunk into drive before heading off to the highway. As I drove carefully towards George Bush Intercontinental, I sat in a curious state of having the sun still roast me through the windshield while cool air blasted from the vents. Simultaneously baked and frozen; the eternal pain of the summer. Even so, I grinned manically and tapped a beat on the steering wheel, whistling a tune. I couldn't wait to take to the skies. I loved aircraft and air travel, so that in itself was like a gift. But getting to spend a weeks in the Florida Keys with some good friends to do some snorkeling and scuba diving? It was like having Fort Knox opened to me.
Leaving my car in the Eco Park lot, I slipped the scrap of paper into my wallet. Heaven forbid I forget where it was parked, right? All I had to do now was drop off my bags and... spend twenty minutes waiting in line at the security checkpoint fiddling with my phone. I got through no problem, though I didn't particularly enjoy the minor annoyance of having to wait so long or retie my tennis shoes. First world problems, am I right? I'm on the way to get on a plane to Florida to scuba dive with friends, and airport security is getting me down.
Okay, okay… Gate C22, United N27733. Boarding begins at 12:05. Let's go!
My phone buzzed from where I had stuffed it in my backpack, and I dug it out to check the message.
DAD: Hey Glen, I wish I could have been there to send you off in person. Stay safe and I know you are going to have an awesome time. Wish I was going with you! I love you very much.
I tapped out a quick reply.
GLEN: Thanks dad! Wish you were coming too. I'll take pics of some fish for you :)
Thank goodness for autocorrect sticking in those apostrophes. Otherwise I'd be typing words like 'ill' instead of 'I'll', 'well' instead of 'we'll', and 'whore' instead of 'who're'. As you can see, punctuation is fairly important. My impromptu English lecture was shortly cut off by pangs in my abdominal region. I suppose metabolism never takes a day off. The time on my iPhone told me it was only 11: 45… I had time for a quick sandwich. And chips and a drink and – well, I think the point has been made. Food is always a good thing.
The bistro quickly changed my mind. Dear lord, this was highway robbery. Not on the same level as a movie theatre robbery, mind you, but the prices were still steep. A little panini and bottled smoothie would have to do me for now. My stomach had eyes on the pastry section, but that was unfortunately still a definite no-no. I was on a budget for this trip.
Pitiful. Just pitiful, I thought. I paid seven bucks for this piece of junk? I can cook stuff a million times better at home and for a fraction of the price. How on earth - right. We're all stuck in a terminal so they can charge whatever they want.
My four and a half dollar bottled smoothie buoyed my culinary spirit, though that was only by virtue of prepackaging. I plugged an earbud into my phone and leaned back, sipping on a dull red concoction while I watched aircraft take off and land on the runways outside the window. I could do this all day. There was just a little kid inside of me that hadn't lost its fascination and wonder with flight.
"This is the final boarding call for Gate C22, direct service to Miami International. Again, this is the final boarding call for Gate C22, direct service to Miami International. The gate will be closed in five minutes and will not be reopened."
The booming voice of an airline representative jolted me out of my pleasant reverie. I hustled aboard the plane, pausing only to get my ticket scanned. With a sigh of relief I slipped into my seat in row twenty eight, glad to be aboard and on my way.
Ping.
I pulled out my phone to see a message from one of my friends who had arrived in Florida early.
Harrison: Hey boyo, when r u going to get here?
Glen: Just got on the flight, probably 2:30 ish? 2:45?
Harrison: When do i need to pick yuo up tho
Glen: *you
Glen: Just be there by 3 or so
Harrison: Hahaha
Harrison: The living spellcheck strikes again
Harrison: U will b lucky if im there 2 pick u up
I had to chuckle out loud at that. Despite being an excellent English student, Harrison was atrocious when it came to texting. Grammar, spelling, punctuation - it all went right out the window. Of course, we gave him no end of grief about that. Maybe it was because he kept lording his essay scores over us… I'm just saying.
"Sir, could you please put your bag under the seat in front of you?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Of course." The flight attendant nodded her head in thanks as I shuffled my hiking backpack to its proper location with my foot.
"Also be sure to put your cellular device in airplane mode before we begin taxiing, please."
"I will. Thanks," I said, giving a little smile that the woman returned, before she stalked off to make sure no one was reclining or had flipped out a tray table. Another ping and vibration quickly drew my gaze back to the phone.
Harrison: Raining pretty hard rn, supposed 2 clear up 2nite tho
Glen: Glad to hear it. Wouldn't want to have the whole trip spoiled by mother nature :p
Harrison: Blake said he wants it 2 stop raining so he can go pick up chicks
Glen: As if XD
Glen: Has he ever even been sucessful?
Harrison: Not 2 my knowledge
Harrison: *successful
Glen: Screw you man. I thought you couldn't spell? :p
Harrison: I thought u could
Glen: Touche XD
Glen: Going to take off soon, have to go. See you in a bit :)
Harrison: Kk, cya at 3
A smile tugged at my lips once more as I tucked the phone into my pocket. My body came close to vibrating with excitement; I could not wait to see all the guys again, though I knew for sure Harrison was going to razz me about this slip up. Still, I could bear the forthcoming jabs if only for the fantastic trip and companionship.
Rolling away from the gate, the plane taxied all the way to the end of the runway. The soft whine of the engines built to a roaring crescendo, and the jolt of acceleration stirred bubbles of excitement in my gut. The plane lifted into the air, and as the journey sank into the monotony of modern air travel I plugged into my phone. Slowly I let acapella tones lull me into closing my eyes, before drifting to sleep.
What I woke to was the most terrifying sound in the world. The agonized screech of metal letting go of its place, screaming as it tries to prevent cracks from spreading. And failing. My ears registered a large thud as the air pressure inside the cabin finally exploded outward, shearing the tail section off.
For a brief, surreal second, I saw sky where there used to be a chair. Then, with a violent motion akin to being thrown by a giant hand, I was sucked out of my seat and into the open air.
The blue sky at thirty thousand feet was freezing. Each breath came in achingly painful gasps as I tumbled towards the clouds. Despite the impossibility of my predicament, I found myself coolly and rationally considering my options.
Okay. I'm falling fast; around one hundred and ten miles an hour, I think. Terminal velocity. Skydivers can lower that a little - on my stomach, X position.
I tried to gain control, but immediately spun out. It took a few times but I finally managed to hold a position where I was simply falling straight down. Something kept trying to haul my right leg up and flip me around, but with some adjustments and significant muscle power I could barely hold myself straight in the air.
A new problem now presented itself; the hundred mile an hour wind tore at my vulnerable eyes, preventing me from seeing more than a blur. Still, I was slowing myself. Improving my chances of survival; what little I had, anyway.
Mist enveloped me, incredibly cold and clammy as I hit the cloud layer. Buffeting winds and currents pulled me around, threatening to unbalance me.
What do I do? How can I survive? I have to survive I-
"Gaaahh!" I screamed in desperation as a particularly strong gust sent me tumbling. I had no reference point in this sea of grey, nothing to help me recover. Head over heels I tumbled, being ripped every which way as up became down and left became right.
Ohgodohgodohgod
My veneer of rational thought began to fade as the shreds of hope began to slip through my fingers. Hysteria grabbed hold as deep mist howled about me.
I can't see I can't recover oh please
Grey, grey, grey, grey, blue, grey, blue-
A stream of curses left my mouth as I fought with everything I had to right myself once more, ending up face to face with a vast expanse of turbid blue water. It took a second to identify what I was looking at as my mind attempted to recover.
Water. Water - the ocean! In my frayed mental state, my mind began pulling up hysterical suggestions. In case of parachute failure or failure to open fully, try and aim for a body of water. Well, check that off. What was it? Swan dive into the ocean?... No, damn it!
But it was too late. I had too little altitude left and was falling far too fast. Even as I struggled to do anything to delay the inevitable, to live, my mind started forming last thoughts.
I'm sorry mom and dad. Luke, Shelby - I wish I wasn't about to leave you. I love you guys. Please -
A great weight overtook me, and blackness was all I knew.
I was cold and something was slowly pulling me down deeper. My right ankle stung like rubbing alcohol had been poured on an open wound.
I'm under water. I'm under - ALIVE! My mind screamed, motoring all my limbs immediately to try and claw my way to the surface. My lungs were already burning as I felt one of my hands break the surface of the water. With a strength born of desperation, I kicked and hauled myself to daylight to take in my first spluttering breath.
No air entered my lungs.
There was a pillar right next to me, a concrete structure covered in barnacles that I latched onto immediately so I wouldn't have to keep struggling.
I'm out of the water, why can't I breath?! My heartbeat began hammering inside my head, my chest on fire. I managed to clear some of the water out of my mouth and throat and finally took in a wheezing breath of life. Laryngospasm. Just had a laryngospasm. Oh god. I'm alive.
The pillar I was hanging off of was supporting a dock that was just out of my reach. Workers bustled around shipping containers, moving a load off a boat and into a storage yard.
I'm in a shipping yard. There are people to help me.
"Help," I croaked, throat still not recovered. "Help me. Help. Help! Help me!" I was able to see a few faces turn in confusion, before seeing me barely hanging from a pillar. Thudding steps came pounding down the dock seconds later, and voices shouted out words I had difficulty making out. Several hands grabbed onto me and hauled me onto the dock as I finally allowed myself to relax.
"Kid. Kid, you okay?"
"Where the hell did you come from?"
"Crash," I wheezed. "Survived a crash."
Gingerly unwrapping something from around my ankle, a bald worker shook his head. "Geez, kid. You need some medical attention." He hoisted a light grey bag up. "This your bag? One of the straps was snared around your ankles."
My bag almost killed me twice- in the air and in the water.
"Screw it," I yelled, trying to get up; to do what, I don't know. An irrational rage had sprung up in me at the sight of my hiking pack. "I hate that damn bag! I don't want to see it again!" The other worker held me down, preventing me from rising.
"Hey, kid. You're going to hurt yourself. We'll get you help. Just stay calm and keep talking to me, okay?"
I knew what he was doing. He was going to keep me talking to judge my mental state of consciousness, and to help stave off shock. At least it was nice to know someone had some basic medical training.
"Okay, okay," I gasped, trying to keep myself calm.
"What's your name, buddy?"
"Glen. I'm Glen Foray."
"Got any family?"
"Yeah, yeah. I do."
"Brothers or sisters?"
"Two. Well, one brother and one sister."
A golf cart looking vehicle pulled up, but it had three rows of seats. The two workers that had been with me from the start helped me into the cart.
"Hey Marv, get us to the clinic and step on it," The bearded worker said, gesturing to the guy driving the cart. A soft whirr punctuated the engine firing up as the vehicle turned and peeled back into the maze of crates.
"Ahhhhgg," I groaned, as pain started filtering into my system. My ankle was black and blue bruised with some raw scrapes, but what I didn't expect was the pain in my palms. I turned my shaking hands over slowly. "Oh hell, my hands are shredded," I said, wincing at the sight.
"Barnacles are pretty damn sharp kid," the worker chuckled without much humor. "Most all of us have been scraped up at one point or another. Now, you have two siblings?"
"Yeah, Luke and Shelby."
"And where do you all live?"
"Houston."
There was a sudden break in the flow of questions that caused me to glance over at the worker. His brow was furrowed, and one hand stroked his facial hair.
"Houston. Is that a small village? I haven't heard of it." Now it was my turn to start, frowning at him. How had he never heard of Houston?
"No, it's a pretty huge city. In Texas. You know where Texas is, right?" Another awkward silence.
"..No. No I don't." He turned back to the guy up front. "Quickly, Marv. I think he's losing clarity, or is delirious. I want to get him into the hands of medical staff quick-like, understand?"
"Gotcha Greg."
"I think I know where I live!" I protested, wincing as my hands throbbed once again.
"It's okay, kid. We'll get you some help." I wanted to protest more, but my hands started throbbing and burning something awful. Instead I just put my head down on my knees. I was alive. Alive. Relief sank over me. I could see my family again.
Half an hour later, I sat propped up in a hospital bed with bandages wound around my hands. A gel had been applied that smelled funny, but was supposed to prevent infection. Bandages also wrapped my gel covered ankle with the addition of a splint over top.
The door at the end of the small room opened and a uniformed officer came over, pulling a chair over to sit at the end of the bed.
"Okay. Glen Foray, correct?" He asked, looking at a file of papers.
"Yes, that's me."
"I'm Officer Brandeis of the VPD. I'd like to let you know that though we've had no reports of any missing airships, we've sent several boats out to look for debris and survivors. In the interest of a crash investigation, could you give me an explanation of what happened aboard your flight? Start from the beginning and don't leave out any details, even if you think they are insignificant.
"Well, I was aboard a United 737 going to Florida-" The officer held up a hand to cut me off, and squinted at me.
"A United seven thirty seven? What kind of airship is that?"
"Airship? It's not an airship," I frowned, annoyed. "Its an aircraft. The Boeing 737, one of the most popular commercial aircraft in the world. The plane I was on."
"A Boeing plane? But you said it was United just a second ago." Both of us were looking at the other like they had three heads.
"Yes. United is the carrier, the company that owns the 737, manufactured by Boeing." I spoke slowly like you would to a small child. The officer looked as if he had more questions than when I started, but I was just motioned to continue.
"Anyway, takeoff and climb out were pretty smooth.I didn't notice anything unusual. I fell asleep, but I woke up when the back of the plane blew out and sheared off the tail. The split happened right in front of my row. I was in row twenty eight I think. I was sucked out of the plane because my seatbelt wasn't on. I fell all the way down to the ocean from thirty five thousand feet or whatever we were cruising at and blacked out before I hit. I don't know how I survived, but I came to in the water by the docks where the workers found me."
"Okay," the officer muttered, drawing out the word in exasperation for some odd reason. Brandeis finished scribbling notes on his paper before looking up at me tiredly. "Is there any family we can get in touch with?"
"Yeah, my mom and dad. We live in Houston. Tell them I'm okay and they don't need to worry about me," I ed, feeling a pang of guilt. I really hoped my mom wouldn't freak out too badly. I didn't want her to feel so worried about me.
"A cell number, perhaps?" asked the officer. At least, that's what he must have said, because I swear I heard the word 'scroll' instead. I gave both my parents cell numbers to him, and my dad's work phone just in case. The officers eyebrows raised, but he didn't comment. He simply stood and marched back to the door before turning once more.
"Mister… Foray. You do realize that wasting police time is a criminal offense?"
"Yes, of course I do," I said in frustration. As if! The officer just left, closing the door behind him. I sat in silence, accompanied only by my own thoughts.
Insinuating that I'm making this up. Really? What a way to treat a possibly traumatized accident victim. I hope that some people survived that crash. I don't know how I did - by all rights I should be dead. A shudder passed through me as I replayed the fall in my head, my own mortality more evident than it ever had been. I suppose that this is the end of my Florida vacation. Really though, I'm just happy that I lived. I'll have to send word to the guys too-
I was cut off once again as the door opened back up and Officer Brandeis marched back in.
"Okay Mister Foray, I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I'm done with your BS. Three boat crews and several investigators
have had their time wasted by you. I-"
"Hold on, what?" I interjected. "What BS? What the hell are you on about?" The officer simply sat down in the chair and flipped open the file from earlier.
"I've done some fact checking, and almost everything you've said is invented. Made up. Not real."
"No no no," I fired back, feeling anger rise within me. "I've just survived an airplane accident I had no right to have survived. I'm afraid a hundred other people may have just died in the same fashion I nearly did. I've been injured and I just want my parents to know I'm okay before they hear what happened. I've cooperated with everything you've asked and I've told nothing but the truth. So you tell me what the hell you mean when you say I made all that up?" The officer just looked at me disappointedly.
"You've had your say? Good. Now it's my turn." He shuffled the papers and began. "Let's start with the basics of the accident, shall we?"
"Let's," I growled with gritted teeth.
"First, there is no airship carrier with the name 'United'. There is no airship manufacturer called 'Boeing', and certainly no seven thirty seven."
"The hell do you mean?" I burst out, unable to contain myself any longer. "Do people in this place live under a rock? What do you mean there isn't any of that?! I know there is! I was on one! On a 737! I know because I take out the safety card and read it every time out of force of habit! And it clearly had the words 737 printed on it. What kind of ignorant-"
"Mister Foray - if that is even your name - I suggest you desist yelling at and insulting an officer and let me finish my say. Do. You. Understand." There was a steel in Officer Brandeis' voice that shut me up momentarily. "Thank you. Now, you also have claimed to have fallen from thirty plus thousand feet when the accident happened. However there are no commercial airships that can fly that high, and even if there were there is a lack of sufficient oxygen at that altitude for human or faunus to survive."
"I damn well know that there is a lack of oxygen! That's why the aircraft cabins are pressurized to an altitude of 8-10 thousand feet! So the passengers can breath! And virtually all commercial aircraft can operate at that height!" I swung out of bed and limped over to him. "Besides, I think I'd know how long it took me to fall - it wasn't a one and done, I was falling for several minutes; more than five at least at a guess. So what-"
"Silence!" ordered the cop, standing to meet me. "Furthermore there is no city, town, or ever street named either 'Houston' or 'Florida'! Not only that, but the numbers you gave me connect to no scroll; they aren't even properly formatted! Now, Glen Foray, I suggest that you drop this charade and tell me the truth!"
"I have been," I screamed back hysterically, feeling like a vice was crushing my chest. Someone was losing their mind and it very well could be me. "I think I'd know where I lived and grew up! My family is there! My family whose phone numbers I gave you! I.. I don't…" My mind began to shut down, simply overwhelmed.
"I've had enough of you, Mister Foray. I'm placing you under arrest for wasting of police time and resources." As the officer grabbed my arm and frog marched me out of the room, I followed mutely.
This can't - how - I don't know. What the hell is going on?
A/N: This is my first go at writing a fanfiction, and it is a Self Insertion. I really want to make clear that I am going to stay as far away from making a Mary Sue as possible. I dislike the super-powered, nigh unbeatable OC's and SI's that you can find. Glen (or should I say me) is way far out of his depth and I want to make that clear. He is going to struggle horribly in this unfamiliar environment, but I think that the struggle keeps it far more real and entertaining than some god among men crushing every obstacle in his wake. I hope you enjoy, and please leave constructive criticism if you have any. Thanks for reading this far!