An arm popped out. Good. She was out of breath. I pulled her by the arm, and she complained that it hurt. I didn’t stop because I knew that she would be free if I continued.
After a couple minutes of straining, she was free. She complained that her leg hurt, so I slung her arm around my shoulder, and we limped through the aisle and out of the airplane.
Outside, I put down the girl gently, laying her on some leaves. She nodded when I asked if she was okay alone. I hear another thump from the plane.
The hiker that I saw in the morning had escaped through the front emergency escape door. His eyes squinted when he approached the light, his tanned skin glowing. He looked to have no major injuries, only scrapes and cuts.
“Hey,” he said, as if we were meeting for coffee.
“Hey,” I said back, my voice rough. It hurt to talk.
The man looked alright, he wasn’t limping, so he walked on over to us. I wasn’t surprised that he survived, he looked like the type of man who wouldn’t give up.
“Name’s Will.”
“Duncan.”
“Oh, I guess we’re introducing ourselves,” said the girl with the short, red hair, “I’m Holly.”
We all nodded in agreement, the silence burning into our souls.
“Charlie.”
We all turned around, startled by the sudden, unfamiliar voice. We saw Charlie walking out of the main entrance of the plane, holding two bags. One looked like luggage, another had a red cross printed on it. Charlie’s face was cut in many places, but now it looked like the blood was drying up. He walked toward us, but when he did, Will, the hiker, took a step back. Charlie gave him a stare.
“Look. Guess what, pal. We’re all in the same boat. Our plane crashed. I may be a prisoner, but at this point in time, we’re all the same,” Charlie said.
I was surprised by his blunt answer to Will’s action. I didn’t like it, but I knew what Charlie said was true. We all have to work together, no matter how crazy it gets.
“I agree,” Holly answered. I reluctantly nodded.
Charlie ran up to me, holding the second bag. I was sitting down, so he crouched down next to me and started taking his orange shirt off.
“Woah, what are you doing?”
Charlie didn’t answer. When he took his shirt off, exposing his bare, pale, skin, he bunched it up. I didn’t know what he was doing up until he stuffed his shirt into my arm. My arm was pooling blood. I didn’t even notice I was bleeding.
Just by the sight of my blood, pouring out like that, I started to feel light-headed.
“You’re going to be okay. Don’t fight it,” whispered Charlie, as he was pushing his shirt into my arm. Somehow, I let the darkness take me, as I passed out in my prisoner’s arms.
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