Prologue
Prologue
This memoir is written from the recollections of one survivor’s memories of the past. Supposedly and apparently, some memories and events had been vitiated and cannot be vividly documented. Events in this text are documented through extensive interviews, questioning, and conversations between the survivor and A. Writer.
His head aching, his head drowsy, Sam sat with the thundering blares that remained still within his ears. The sound of a meteor plummeting and colliding with the Earth, one sound that deafens all other. Despite the weight on his lids, Sam struggled to keep them open. It’s the one thing everyone tells you after a major impact; don’t fall asleep! With his vision restored, glimpses of his surroundings now once more were seen, chairs of velvet and children in uniforms, all around, though not many were conscious (or so it seemed). Directly in front, perhaps seven or so seats upwards was a door wide open. Light exited into it, though it seemed odd; why was the door opened on the airplane, and why was no land to be spotted outwards? Just clouds and slight hints of the blue.
All leaned on their chairs, eyes closed, with the bottom pavement flickering eyes as if to announce an immediate evacuation, though no one was evacuating. It was as if they couldn’t. The darkening was getting once more to him, his lids closing against his will, until at last a shift that caused his awakening. Disorderly, the field vision before him seemed to shift lopsidedly as if pulled in a different direction. First falling to the side, then upwards it went until at last it was fixed one position that pointed him upwards. That change in positions meant only one thing, (coinciding with the unconscious children, and now the windows looked bare and empty as if they were submerged) he needed to evacuate immediately!
Reaching downwards to unbuckle his seatbelt, Samuel struggled out of seat and position with great difficulty, feeling his grip still weak and numb from the abrupt collision and its aftermath still ongoing. There was only an objective at the moment, to reach the door wide open and escape outwards. Once out of his seat, he felt his weight and entire body pushing downwards, yearning to reach and fall to the very end of the aircraft (now can no longer be described with the word “air”), but he persisted.
Gripping with all his might, feeling the ripping of his muscles as he moved upwards the plane, up the path to the nearest exit, using the chairs as a means of support upwards. With feet glued to the floor, slowly but steadily they stood foreword, one by one, seat by seat he passed, until at last the open air was felt outwards the plane. The wind he felt passing against his face, as well as the overwhelming cold air. Clutching the brim of the door for support, Sam heaved a heavy load by having to momentarily propel himself in the air, almost in a jump, so he can stand on the bottom brims of the door socket, which would give him better steadiness.
His muscles giving out, at last, he relaxed into the socket of the door, gasping and gasping for air as his sight met the area downwards of the open. Below him saw nothing but the blues for miles, its waves and slight movements disorienting. A little from the aircraft were what looked to be orange patches that floated on the seafloor, which quickly became apparent to him what they were. Those little orange-red patches were nothing other than the life rafts that he had seen before in demonstration videos. This was when actual realization, at last, met home; the plane was sinking into the water, for they had crash-landed into the sea. Looking downwards, at last, he had a horrible sight he was met with. At the very bottom what he expected to see were rows and columns of passengers/students, but there were none at the very bottom. What was met to his eyes was an ever-rising field of blue through the aircraft, engulfing all that stood between it. His previous seat was now gone, along with all of his fellow passengers that he sat near.
The mind was racing, the heart was pumping, there was only one chance to act fast. If Sam continued to stay inside this submerging aircraft, chances are it would most likely either break apart (with his end falling and tumbling toward the sea-floor) with the bottom end becoming completely submerged. For all he knew, there were mere seconds to survive! The goosebumps on his hand he could feel quite clearly, with the shaking of his entire body visible. It was an idiotic move and decision, but it was the only thing that could be done. Racing in his mind as his body continues to break down under pressure, as well as continue to panic, Samuel thought of all he had listened and learned about freediving into the ocean from however far in the air. In an instant, he had thought of a book once read; a book about survival.
Despite his ever-continuing shaking, he continued through with the plan. First, you had to do something along the lines of putting your legs first before jumping down, positioning them straight as so to absorb the impact. Secondly, what was to be done was the covering of your genitals with your hands, which he frankly did. Before the last step, there was the clenching of the buttocks to avoid the rupturing and damaging of internal aspects from hydro-penetration. And at last, there was the fall. From what he remembered, he was to the only aim for the bottom with his feet, directly straight and in a vertical position. That was it, that was all that was needed to do before the last step, but fear was getting to Sam.
His heart was racing at intense and extreme conditions, for fear was all still left within him. Downwards were the deep sea and small freckles of life rafts, which looked to be about only three. Death would surely come within the impact of such a thing, so why has he to do it? Death would come to both ways… but one thing different about the decision of jumping was that he would go out gallantly and go out in attempts of fleeing. In this case, if the conditions were suitable enough, perhaps he would escape the boat and live, after all, it does not seem likely, but it was the most likely outcome. That was what he needed to do, but the confidence was not yet there, and it didn’t seem the confidence was ever to come anytime in particular. Looking downwards once more to see what position he was at, to see how inevitable was the inevitability, and they’re horror-struck like a pin on foam.
He could see there seemed to be cracks on the airplane, if not only his mind imagining it, as the water level continued to rise. The cracks seemed to increase with every moment, and so was his insanity. At last, with his confidence now gone, Samuel gasped once more for air and leaped a leap of faith. With his eyes closed, he jumped, and with his eyes closed, he fell. Downward at immeasurable speeds, he could feel the wind sprinting upwards at his air and at his face, propelling him downwards as his speed too accelerated. Perhaps it was in mere seconds, or perhaps it was in hours, his legs had at last collided with the ocean floor. There was no pain for a few moments, no emotions, no thoughts, just the coldness of the water surrounding his entire body as he continued to be propelled downwards into the ocean floor. His bravery was not what made him jump, it was the cowardice that did so. He did not want to die indefinitely inside the plane, so there was only one option to have a glimmer of life still left for him. And it was the decision to jump and hopefully be rescued by those that bore the life rafts.
Once at last his consciousness had reached and appeared once more, Samuel’s first and only instinct was to propel himself upwards using the instructions he memorized. What was he to do: spreading his legs and arms outwards, he continued to push him together and extend them in that particular motion, causing him to be brought upwards (or at least that was what it said). All around felt raw and chilly, with his very skin seeming to freeze on him on the very spot. His arms felt suspended from his body, as if it were not connected in the first place, but continued he moved. His vision was the thing that worried him most, for all-around was dark, nothing changing nor seeming to move, it was as if he was stuck at the pit of the ocean and forced to swim upwards. Upwards. The only word that mattered, other than survive. Increasingly so, his lungs began to feel drained of any oxygen still left in them, crisp and wrinkled it all felt, for he stressed it to the extreme to provide him with enough oxygen to last him until the surface was met, but all began to feel numb. His hands felt cool and unfeeling, along with his legs giving out at the intense strain on it from the repetition of attempting to swim for whatever distance that was. All was going numb, though his head was different. It felt as if it were to burst any moment then.
Continued did he hold his breath, as well as swim upwards. All was going red for him there, it all felt like torture, an excruciating way to die. Still struggling to swim upwards, there were no thoughts left for him within his mind. All energy was focused on getting upwards and out of the water. Each cell in his body felt popping, each blood vessel smearing its contents, though still, he persisted. Keep on kicking, keep on waving, but all seemed pointless. The same point of the vision was there, nothing had changed in however long he swam; all was dark. He could feel the strain on his eyes now, how he had been clenching them together to avoid saltwater entering them and… clenching his eyes. In a flash, it was opened, and the most magnificent sight was seen at last. Rays of the sun pierced through the direct layers of water that he was underneath, allowing him to at last see the rays of hope that kept him going.
With all he had left, all his oxygen and muscles still had to give, he propelled one last time. Positioning himself in one smooth aim, and pushed forward. With all of his leg’s might, all of his arm’s extendibility, it was at last when he felt the cool essence and lovely texture of the open-air around him as his head, at last, protruded from the stiff ceiling of the ocean. First, it was the sensation on the fingers that were pure ecstasy for him, at last, the cool air movements that he contacted, his arms then exited, and at last his face. The sky, oh the sky, how vibrant and awesome were its colors, despite barricaded by the shield of clouds.
With the piercing rays of the sun, colors, at last, he could see, along with sounds. In his peripheral vision, there he saw the slight blur of orange. Hope is nigh at last! With immediate instincts, Sam violently swayed his arms in the air so that the people on the raft would be able to locate him easily. Seeing the blur of the raft slowly reach him, Sam extended his arm even further to give the people on the raft a better chance at being able to haul him upwards. At last, their two hands clenched together, with a passenger pulling him up with all of his might. Grasping onto his hand as tightly as he could, Sam helped propel himself out of the water and onto the deck of the raft. With a thud, Samuel laid on the door, everything of him giving out at the immense stress that he placed on his body from the excess of force emitted.
His lungs felt as if it dried to a crisp as if any movement could rupture it and expel whatever little air that was left contained. Every tip of his fingers felt as if they were frostbitten, for none of them could no longer be felt, except for the longings of the aching from every position in his body. Coughing and gasping for air, that was the only thing that his attention was directed at. His throat felt as if he had been starved of any and all nutrients for all of the time, course and aching by the pain of a thousand needles entering each and every point of his throat. Nothing mattered on the raft, well except something that caught his eye on the bottom right of his peripheral vision.
There was a plastic bottle of water, filled to the brim full and unopened, this is what he needs to survive. Using his regained energy from the adrenaline, Samuel stood up with the surprising speed and hurried over to the bottle as if it was his only chance to be able to soothe the pain that erupted from his throat. Not considering what the others on the raft would think, he simply reached and caught the bottle. The sensation was overwhelming, but there was nothing that he could do to resist it at that very bottom. The semi-cool feel of the bottle made it too powerful, so it was in his natural instincts to waste it all in seconds. Swishing the bottle cap open with swift movements, it was in natural instincts to put it up onto his mouth, and begin to point it in a capsized direction.
The gushing of liquids down his throat, cool and refreshing as every molecule and every inch of flesh that was in his throat and lungs were oxygenated and once more healthy, not the state that it was before; a state of constant aching and dryness. The desert, at last, had run, though not yet quite enough to become a rainforest, the desert had been filled with abundant amounts of oases. Continued did he even after his thirst had been replenished, it was as if it was a pleasure that one man had never experienced before, one that causes them to long for it, thirst for it, and once it was in their grasp it could never be let go. His throat opened to an incredibly large size as the liquids rushed downwards, clearing up every part that was within his body. It all felt cool, nothing had felt nor tasted better than that very moment, and just as he was to finish the last drop of the bottle, now more than satisfied, he felt a sharp pain and renewed ache on his wrist. Opening his eyes after his session of pure ecstasy, there he saw the person that had rescued him.
Average sized male, dark and messy hair (despite looking to have been previously neatly trimmed and cut, but was to be expected after running/swimming for his life). He had an infuriated expression on his face, said face looked very tired, and was still wearing a school uniform. With the situation seeming dire for the boy as if there were no seconds to spare, he quickly snatched the water bottle out of his hand, despite his dismay, and quickly placed it away. Samuel was obviously still very distressed at the situation, unsure of what to say nor to do as he simply stared at the boy, until at last around the raft. There were supplies galore, it was as if he had brought everything beforehand and was organizing it all now. A book there, a magnifying glass there, weird tubes there, it was a strange sight to look at him so “prepared,” or it was so what his mind immediately went to.
If not supplies, what else could it be? All actual thoughts and sane moments were now taken from him, for Sam could not process all that had happened. His throat still slightly aching, he continued his heavy breathing and grasping of the throat, throwing to make sense of everything within his mind as he stared around wildly. The boy himself did not look very distressed at the situation however, very calculated and organized as he began to organize neatly at his supplies. It was after he had done, and while Samuel watched his every move intensely and without any significant thought, that he had, at last, addressed to the aghast and shell shocked person within his view.
“Oh great. An insane one.” He could hear the person speak up in disgust as he looked down at the tired and terrified Samuel.
