Page 8 of Crucible
AURELIA
Iwake up in a tree.
My ears are ringing, and it feels like I’m still falling. I don’t even remember leaving the plane. The last thing I remember was hearing that god-awful tearing sound once more as the plane coasted over the frost-tipped forest and then feeling suction, cold, wind, and then…nothing. When the ringing finally fades, I swear I can hear the echoes of our bloodcurdling screams.
But no, that can’t be right.
I’m alone.
It’s the first thing I notice when I open my eyes—not the tree, snow, or debris forty feet below me. I only see the isolation.
My lap belt keeps me from moving more than my dangling arms and legs, and I claw at it in a blind panic.
“Help! Somebody help me!”
My bare fingers are frozen stiff, so I have trouble releasing the latch, which is a good thing because my vision doubles after my fourth attempt. There’s blood rushing to my head from being upside down. Fear that I may pass out again terrifies me more than being stuck in a tree, but less than falling out of it.
The seat belt is the only thing keeping me from falling to my death or at least breaking a few bones. From what I can tell, I survived the crash mostly unscathed, and I’d like to keep it that way.
But I can’t stay in the tree.
As strong and sturdy as it looks, the tree sways from the force of the storm still raging around me.
My seat is wedged in the V between two thick branches, and I spot something brown lodged in the snow-packed ground below me. I think my eyes are playing tricks on me, but why would I hallucinate seeing a couch?
I can’t explain why seeing that damn couch excites me. Maybe because I know if it could survive—if I could—then so could others.
I look around, but I don’t see anyone else.
“Hello? Hello, is anyone there? Help me. Help me, please.” My breathing quickens, and my heart races when no one answers. I feel the scream bubbling in my throat until it spills free. “Help! Heeeeeeelp!”
I scream and scream and scream until my lungs and throat burn, and I can’t anymore. My vision doubles again, and I know I can’t stay like this.
I turn my head as much as I can, searching for more wreckage. Most of my vision has cleared, so I’m able to take in more detail, and I see it’s not just me stuck in the tree. There’s more debris, but not much.
I still can’t see where the rest of the plane ended up.
I can barely see more than three feet in front of me because the snow and hail won’t let up.
It’s so cold.
I’m so cold.
I could stay here and wait for help to come, or I could find shelter and see if anyone else survived. I’m a little appalled when I waver on which course to take.
Get out of the goddamn tree, Aurelia.
Reaching for my seat belt again, I inhale quick, shallow breaths, trying to build the courage. I can aim for one of the branches, but if I miss…
The snow could cushion my fall…
Or it could break my bones.
I guess we’ll see.
Closing my eyes, I take one last breath and pull on the latch. I hear the click, and I feel myself fall. My stomach smarts and the breath whooshes out of me when I collide with the thick branch a few feet below me. The bark scrapes against my bare arms when I start to slip. A few of my nails break when I dig in, grappling desperately to hang on.
“Fuck!” I hear myself scream.
