-Alone

Chris stared at the empty space where he had caught his last glimpse of dad.  He was aware of the whisper moan of the icy breeze that washed across the plane in irregular intervals.  Behind him, we were all still.  He sat cold and alone.  He wasn’t scared.  He had never really been all that scared.  There was simply no point.  If he was supposed to be dead, he knew he would be.  We all would be.  But he wasn’t now.  Not yet.

To the side of the plane through the dirty plexiglass, he could now clearly see mom.

Dad reached the tree line.  The forest was surrounded by the dense brush of a plum tree thicket.  He had come across a long strand of barbed wire which he followed to the forest, presumably from the fence we took out on impact.  Dad couldn’t penetrate through thick brush of the plumb thicket, so he followed it around to the right.  It ended abruptly and he suddenly found himself standing on an earthen dike that circled gently away from him to the north and around what appeared to be a pond before bending toward the west and in the direction of his objective.  As he stumbled along the dike, he could make out the ruts of past trucks and tractors that had traveled over it, and was heartened.

After a few steps, he could see that the dike abutted what was indeed a large pond just off to the left as he walked over it.  He felt fortunate we had hit where we did, or we might have ended up in there.  We would have sunk without a trace.  No one would have ever found us. 

He continued to make his way when he stopped abruptly and squinted into the dark.  50 or so feet before him he could make out a light swath of ground running toward the east and west as far as the moonlight would allow him to see.  He immediately recognized it to be a dirt road.  As he reached it, he was excited, so much so that he stumbled and was compelled to focus again on his broken rib, which jabbed him rudely. 

He bent forward, grabbing his side tightly, and the stab faded slowly back into the steady throb he was use to.  He was reminded that if he wasn’t careful, he was good as dead.  The thought was punctuated by a fresh curtain of breezy cold, which numbed him further. 

Dead as dead can be.

But not yet.  He composed himself and gathered his strength, then stepped gingerly over dirt curb of the road, turned west, and began to stumble slowly toward his hope for salvation and deliverance from this hell.

Chris turned around to survey us laid out in the middle of the plane.  No one had moved, even Ricky.  Chris felt very restless since dad had left.  He didn’t want to just sit there anymore. 

He needed to stretch. 

He worked his way out of the plane again and slowly stood on the cold earth, shivering against the freezing breeze.  He adjusted the sling around his neck and looked at the make-shift bandage on his hand.  It was darkly stained in the moonlight from being soaked with his blood.  He surveyed the blue tinted landscape around him until his eyes locked again on the body of his mother, so clear now in the icy moonlight.

Up to that point, he had held the impulse at bay, but seeing her and separated by only distance it was overpowering.  Suddenly he didn’t hear dad’s warning.  He wasn’t worried about us, either.  He just knew he had to go there.

He slowly made his way through the debris and barbed wire and walked past the buckled nose of the plane and across the moonlit void between him and mom.  He felt like he wasn’t walking to her as much as being drawn, and was now merely submitting to the force of it.

When he reached where she lay, he stood motionless for a while taking her in.  He wasn’t sure what he was suppose to do.  He was completely spellbound by the sight. 

The blanket covered her head and upper body and most of her torso.  Her lower body and legs protruded from it still.  Her feet were bare; she had lost her shoes.  The pants of her light blue suit that she wore were colored monotone in the moonlight and stained with dark patches.  He couldn’t tell the difference between which were mud and which were blood.  He didn’t really care. 

The tips of the fingers of her left hand extended from the edge of the blanket.  Her diamond wedding ring sparkled subtly in the moonlight.  Chris stared at it.  She was a prominent person in Lincoln society.  My family was considered fairly well off by the day’s standards.  She could have had a big huge diamond to show off, but she didn’t.  She had this small modest one.  It was lovely and the epitome of her.

Chris lowered himself to the ground to sit beside her, and then reached out to touch her hand.  It was like ice, and frozen stiff by the cold and rigor mortis.  He withdrew in shocked horror. 

It wasn’t what he had expected.  It was the first time he had ever touched a dead body.  He sat for a moment and considered her.  He shook off the horror, then gently took her hand again.  It wasn’t so bad this time.  Wrapping his fingers around hers he slowly leaned over, lowering himself to his side until he was laying next to her on the frozen stiff ground of the field, his head next to hers.  He looked at the shape of her profile under the dark stained blanket but he didn’t lift it.  He didn’t need to.

The decision to go to sleep came to him like a logical conclusion.  He was suddenly very tired.  He didn’t mind anymore if he had to die.  He preferred that it would be here, with her.  If he wasn’t suppose to, he wouldn’t have come out here.  He didn’t feel cold or scared or in pain.  The sanctity of the darkness behind his closed eyes brought with it the promise of delivery from this place, one way or another.  He didn’t know if dad would make it back or not, and suddenly he just didn’t care. 

Darkness began to wash over him.  Then he felt peace.