*Implies dead bodies, but doesn't describe them.

When the plane crashed, it was, of course, pure chaos. I vaguely remember the captain over the speakers telling us to buckle up immediately, feeling the plane tip downward and the horrible turbulence. One moment, everyone’s screaming, then suddenly, there’s a ringing in my ears. I woke up to smokey air and my best friend Quinn less than a handspan away from me.

“Bri! We have to get out!”

“Huh?” I numbly watched as people rushed by, hyperventilating with their masks on, blinking furiously, and bumping into her. Quinn, who, despite wearing no mask and being asthmatic, was still leaning over me, trying to fumble with my seatbelt. I pushed her hands away.

“Go, Quinn, I’m fine.” There’s no way she should’ve been sticking around there.

“Are you sur-”

“Go, I’m coming,” I said, messing with the seatbelt until it came undone. Quinn looked at me for a second before making her way to the exit. I lifted the window cover to see a sandy beach waving at me. Please let this be a nightmare. 

I bent down for the life jacket underneath the seat like they always say they're located, but nothing was there.

“What the hell,” I muttered as I sat back up. As I looked over the seats, I saw blood splattered all over the wall. Fellow passengers littered over the rows like worms on concrete after heavy rain. Lifeless, helpless, and untouched. The more I stared, the faster my heart beat—my ears somehow ringing and echoing the sound of breathing. I had to use the oxygen mask to catch my breath before spiraling too far. Looking at them made me realize the gravity of the situation.

I knew I said I’d follow her but didn’t say immediately. I was one of the three active people remaining on the plane. The other two were Octavia, who I’m guessing had a panic attack based on her pallor, and Inès, who had been the one to calm her down like usual. On autopilot, no pun intended, I slide the mask off as I fumble my way to get my backpack, and then after I thought about it for a second, suitcase above me too.

“Bri, what are you doing?”

“Inès,” I responded while getting on my tippy toes to reach the damn thing. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You've been on enough flights to remember that the flight attendants always say, ‘Don’t take your carry-ons during an emergency exit!’” 

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t see no attendants stopping me.” 

“Bri, be foreal. We need to go now! This plane could blow up or collapse in minutes.”

“You can go, but I’m not leaving my stuff.”

“Dude, priorities.”

“No, dude. We are on an island. I don’t know what the fuck is on or in there. If this plane is going down, so help me god, I will have my belongings with me, and whatever else the fuck I can take,” I stated, grabbing the suitcases beside mine. I looked, finding her mulling over my words and Octavia behind her, unconsciously biting her nails.

“Octavia." I swatted her hands away from her mouth.

"What?"

"Was your survivalist reality tv obsession just for shits and giggles?”

“...No.”

“Then get your shit and be useful.” She returned to her seat and began to grab her belongings, and Inès soon joined us while shaking her head.

With our hands full, we made our way to the emergency exit, where a very stressed Quinn awaited us.

“Bri!”

“Not now,” I said loud enough for her to hear. I titled my head towards Octavia and Inès.

“Okay, you,” I pointed to Inès. “Go down the slide first and watch the stuff. Octavia, go get Zahra, Krys, and Reyya and get them to wait with Inès. Actually, scratch that. Inès gets Quinn to talk to them. If Octavia’s here, we can get more stuff. If one of them is not too shaken up, I need them to help Quinn carry the stuff to wherever you make the pile.”

“Are you sure the slide won’t tear?”

“Hon, it’s made to be strong and heat resistant. But if it tears, please get somebody to hold the corners, and we’ll jump down.”

“I didn’t sign up for that,” Octavia objects, but we ignore her. 

“Now relay back to me what I asked.”

“Get Quinn to get Zahra, Krys, and Reyya.”

“Perf. Tavia, you still with us?”

When I didn’t get an answer, I faced Octavia and had to hold back a sigh. She was tearing her nail beds to shreds with her teeth.

“Honey, you gotta stop. We don’t know what kind of germs are out here.”

“I-I’m sorry,” she mumbled around a finger momentarily before dropping her hand. “Do we really have to go back,” Octavia asked, not exactly sounding thrilled.

“Yes. This is the beginning, and we must be one step ahead. Nobody other than us can access the supplies until we have an inventory. Inès, you can handle that right?”

“You know I love organizing.”

“That I do. Empty your book bag asap. If you see anything that’s a mirror, long pieces of cotton or linen, or could be turned into a weapon, hide it in there. Octavia, you good?”

“I get it, but what about protection? The others will get nosy and try to take the stuff.”

I shook my head because she was right. “Inès, can you ask Quinn to get Micah. He’s tall and big.”

“What if he doesn’t want to?”

“Don’t tell him much. Say we’re trying to get supplies together and need to see what we can work with. Matter a’fact get Anthony too.”

“Gotcha.”

“We only have a small window to get out enough stuff before people snap out of it and ask questions. So, I’m going to get our personal stuff first in case it goes to hell. We can say we were just getting out our specific belongings. Get Quinn to figure out who’s...no longer with us, adult or student, so we can use their clothing for shelter building.”

The two nodded, and we all took a breath together.

“Inès, leave your stuff up here. Octavia, wait until everybody’s rounded up to send it down. We need to be low-key for the first couple of minutes.” I held my fist out to Inès. “Alright, bye bitch.”

She bumped my hand before bouncing down the slide. While she whispered to Quinn, I put my bags down and motioned to Octavia that I was going back to search the seats.

“Be careful, Bri, we don’t know how the plane’s balance is. Sure, the fewer trips, the better. But your safety comes first.”

“I’ll be careful. I didn’t do weight training for nothing.”

“You better, or I’ll sing like a canary when a certain someone asks for an explanation.”

I didn’t even want to think about that conversation with…them. Shaking my head, I grabbed a ripped sweater that hung from a backrest. I didn’t dare investigate where the owner was and simply wrapped it around my head, knowing I should filter the air somehow.

Thank God my friends and I aren’t quite so buddy-buddy with the rest of our classmates. Negotiating to get us all next to each other was a breeze, making the first part of the plan easier. Quinn had been beside me, and Zahra, Krys, and Reyya had been in the middle aisle. 

I got the backpacks first, one on my back, one on each arm, and the one on my chest. Waddling my way to Octavia, I wondered just what the fuck they packed in these things for to be so fucking heavy.

She was starting to push the bags down, and I glanced down to see my group waiting, looking primarily unscathed.  Dropping the bags unceremoniously, I quickly walked—and by walking, I mean play hopscotch with guess-that-appendage-actually-don’t with rising nausea—back to our section and got our suitcases and duffles from above. Our chaperones had constantly told us that everything is smoother for flying as a group when you stuck to packing bags that were small enough to be considered carry-ons and bookbags. I can only take two at a time, but Octavia is getting Micah and Anthony’s stuff by now.

As I got more familiar with the…obstacles, I didn’t let my eyes stray from my destination. I focused on the storage compartment, grabbing and going without glancing at the handful of still bodies. When I saw that people were beginning to stare in this direction, I switched gears.

I grab every airplane blanket I can reach easily, less than a dozen or so, and quietly let them go down the slide. I have to hold my breath as I wrestle some away from a body nearby, but I don’t touch any that is directly on them. I get six more blankets before handing them off to Octavia and dropping them to the floor to grab life jackets. I start from Quinn and I’s row, the last fourth of the plane, and work my way back to the door, Octavia periodically grabbing them when my arms get full. 

“Octavia! Head to the galley; there should be stuff there, too.”

I go back to where I remember there being a pretty empty duffle bag and a really light suitcase, tugging them down.

“What was the point of this person bringing this?”

I looked inside and saw a handful of shirts and pants, a few toiletries in the suitcase, and figurines and toys in the duffle.

“Sorry to whoever this belonged to,” I said as I dumped it by the exit. I felt terrible for wasting, but I didn’t want to throw shit out the side of the plane like a scorned woman, which would grab even more attention.

I could hear Octavia banging around the galley. She walked into her stacking cups and a mountain of plane snacks to her side. With her taking care of that I went for more important things.

“Bri, why are you packing alcohol?”

I didn’t pause for one second, taking out more from the compartment. “Tavia, why are you sweatin’ me? Isn’t your dad a nurse?”

“Huh?”

I worked in silence for a while, but I swear I could almost hear her brain working overtime.

“Ohhh.”

“Yeah. Did you think I was grabbing this for drinks by the beach? There’s probably injured, and-"

“We’ll need to sterilize the wounds and whatever we use to help them.”

“Yeah. Although I will admit, I will be keeping one before we redistribute.”

“Bri!”

“What,” I said, shrugging. “I will save it for a bad day or when it’s really cold. We gotta do what we gotta do.”

“Jesus Christ…” We continued to comb through the galley for a few more seconds before she spoke up again. “Are you sharing?”

“If you’re still alive by then.”

“Then get some wine.”

I glanced up from the cabinet, probably looking at her with something in between incredulous and resigned. “We are in a do-or-die situation, and you want to be picky.”

“I can’t help it. I like what I like.”

“It won’t even be refrigerated.”

“I’ll make it into mulled wine.”

“With what fru—uoooh. Oh, that’s rich. Your mommy packed you fruits,” I mocked.

“And yours’ packed spices,” she shot back. She wasn’t wrong. “That’s what I thought. So, yeah. Bring the damn thing.”