The Island

[Vikingstone]

Reggie

Reg had to chuckle out loud seeing the Captain set upon by a giggling swarm of nymphs. The pretty Julie had obviously found the Captain in fine fettle and she applied a touch of lip gloss to the end of his nose to make sure he knew it. These girls were in spring break mode and Reggies dirty old mind once again flitted to surf side and a glorious scene of the four of them walking along the beach side by side, their slightly sun burned buns jiggling almost imperceptibly on either side of their brightly colored thongs. Shawna, Mae, Kelly and Julie. Bloody hell.

Reggie was shaken from his reverie by a rather large gentleman of color brushing past him to join the queue. His clothing suggested an 'Angle of Death' motif and frankly, he looked unhappy. Probably a harried businessman on his way to some conference he really didn't want to attend.

It was then he realized that it was time get on the blasted plane! Reg hustled down the small jet-way, checked in with the flight attendant and made his way toward the rear of the small plane. He always sat in the back on these short hops. Let the pukers have the front where the ride is a bit smoother. Having piloted everything from tiny reconnaissance craft to attack helicopters, Reggie had no trouble with a few bumps in the sky.

But he did have trouble with the big bumps on the chest of the pretty photog or foreign correspondent or whatever she was and he definitely wanted to grab that open seat next to her and find out what that trouble was.

"Excuse me, I'm terribly sorry, is this seat taken?" said the spider to the fly...

 

[Messalina]

Messalina Bishop

Messalina had just opened the latest issue of "Athena Review" after stowing her backpack when she heard the voice and looked up over the top of her glasses in surprise. Frankly, she hadn't expected anyone to head toward the back of the plane as she was trying to avoid an hour and a half's worth of mindless chitchat when she chose her seat. "No," she replied, knowing that her smile didn't extend to her eyes. "It's not taken."

Returning to her magazine, she tried to read -- or at least appear to be reading -- while the gentleman twisted and turned, tugged and yanked, elbowed and nudged himself into a comfortable position. Maybe she should just close her eyes and take a nap. Messa had taken enough flights that she knew the drill routine the stewardess would give almost better than she did. And what could the pilot say that she hadn't heard a dozen times before either?

Deciding that the nap was the best tack, she tucked the earpiece of her glasses into the front of her scoop-neck tee and closed her eyes.

"I say! These seats are a tad narrow."

She murmured something unintelligible and nodded, keeping her eyes closed. He was right though... she had very little leg space of her own and he appeared a few inches taller than she at five nine. Trying to avoid rubbing arms with him again, Messa shifted closer to the window and wished for quiet.

"Sir Reginald R.H. Trowbridge O.B.E.," he suddenly announced, confirming her suspicion based on accent that he was a Brit.

Messa considered keeping her eyes closed and ignoring his attempt at an introduction, but even she wasn't that rude. Turning to face him, she accepted his already extended hand and shook it firmly. "Messalina. Messalina Bishop, P... " she bit her tongue as she started to sarcastically add her degree to her own name.

"P... ?"

She nodded, her grin genuine this time. "PFFT... you know... pfft." and made the sound to verbalize the letters she had assignated to her name.

 

[Lady_Kit]

Kit Duvall

At some point in life, everyone ponders the existence of heaven and hell. And having thought that far, they then begin to form theories on the nature of those afterlife destinations. Opinions varied on the nature of heaven, but Kit was sure that Hell was going to be one big line. No doubt, she’d have to wait in line just to get in the gate. The ultimate punishment; highly organized purgatory.

Please, God, let the line move soon. If you do, I promise I’ll try really hard not to growl at the giggly co-eds or yell at the yapping Yorkie on this trip.

Snickers turned cough alerted Kit that her voice had carried to the man behind her in line. Funny, she hadn’t though him close enough to hear her. Quiet fellow. She rolled her eyes in exasperation; of course, she could have kept her smart comments to herself. Her mouth always seemed to get her into trouble. Fortunately this time she’d just look a little stupid.

I just used my out-loud voice. Didn’t I?

The tall blonde stranger behind her nodded his head once. A quick look took in the long lean body, intelligent blue eyes and a nice mouth that seemed to be smiling back at her. Kit grinned and held out her hand.

Kit Duvall, just in case you have to identify the crazy lady who was talking to herself.

 

[Steiner]

Robert slid into the pilots seat and whipped the headphones onto his head, hanging his cap up on the hook provided. Turning to the nervous looking 19 year old sat next to him, he smiled encouragingly, turned his kneepad chart to the 7th page and began the Holy Litany of the Checklist.

"Parking Brake" a nice easy one to start the kid off on. "set"
"Throttle" he continued. "Idle, captain."
"Battery Masterswitch" as the switch clicked he saw the dials and needles spin up to give useful readings. "On"
"Flaps" they'd had a sticky port flap before, but it seemed fine now "Set up"
"FSNAV and SATNAV autoguidance" this step took a few minutes. "Loading... ....Activating. Check."
"Weapons crosscheck and tactical database assimilation" he sat in silence for a second until the co-pilot said "Ch... Huh?" then laughed. "Just testing. Continue with the Checklist"

He sometimes threw things like that into the checklist to make sure that the other pilot was REALLY paying attention. The rest of the checklist continued apace until he was contacting the tower.

"Tower this is HH-19 commercial outbound for Waikiki. We are at the gate and loading the cattle - luggage and ground checks complete. Requesting departure slot as scheduled."

"HH-19 this is Tower. That's a roger on your departure time as expected. Have a pleasant flight, Rob."

"Roger that Tower. This is HH-19 commericial rolling on the tarmac in five."

Waiting until the stewardess leaned around the door to tell him that the Passengers were seated, Robert ran through the rest of his checklist, concentrating on starting the engines.

 

[Butch]

Kwame Uhuru

When the flight finally was called out on the terminal Kwame made his way to the proper terminal. The line had already begun moving at an impressive speed when you thought about how long everybody was forced to be checked in customs. Kwame instinctively knew there was going to be some redneck, kkk bastard waiting there for him, giving him hard time. He'd probably even get cavity searched. Kwame hated these kind of authorities. They felt threatened by him because of the color of his skin and by his name. Those ignorant bastards always seemed to think that just because he wasn't called John Doe he was an arabian terrorist. But he was going to stand his ground and endure.

He remembered meeting the founders some ten years ago. He would never forget seeing Bobby Seale sitting next to him, telling him all about the segregation and harassment he'd been exposed to. Although Kwame couldn't recap their conversation word by word it had been a magical and life altering experience. Bobby had been in his sixties by then but had been so full life anyway. He would never forget his advice though. Bobby had told him that even though things were hundreds of times better than when he was young he shouldn't be satisfied until people saw him and not his color. And that he should never let anyone walk over him, noone should be allowed to think they're better than you.

"Passport, please." said the attendant and Kwame gave it to him "Okay then... Kehwhayne, business or pleasure?"
Kwame wasn't even going to bother. It wasn't worth it. Who cared what his asshole called him. Nothing was going to ruin this trip for him.
"A little bit of both" he said in his deep baritone. He couldn't wait to get on the flight.

 

[Cordae]

Julie Malone

Julie and her friends found their seats on the plane quickly and sat after stowing their carry-on luggage. Julie fumbled with her seatbelt to get it buckled correctly, and began to feel a familiar sensation. A wave of nausea gurgled through her insides and she squeezed her eyes shut trying to will it away.

"Whats wrong with Julie?" one of the girls asked with concern in her eyes

"Don't you know? Julie HATES flying. She'll be fine, just give her a minute"

Julie opened her eyes and focused on the lone flight attendant preparing for her safety presentation. She grabbed the laminated card from the seat-back pocket in front of her. 'Need something to keep my mind occupied....THATS how you put the seatbelt on....air masks are above, my seat is a floatation device?' Hurriedly, she put the card back. 'Definitely the wrong kind of reading material.'

Closing her eyes again, Julie waited as the last few passengers boarded and the flight attendant began her spiel.

"You ok now Julie?"

"I will be once we're on the island with very strong drinks in our hands"

 

[Steiner]

The last late arrivals were ushered onboard and the doors closed. Robert nodded to the ground crew man standing by and flipped a bank of switches, changing the electrical systems of the plane to run internally, rather than from the cart that stood by the nose.

The engine noise dipped slightly and then came back up as the load was taken up, and the aircraft responded much as it had hundreds of times before.

"HH-19 commercial to Tower, we are loaded and prepped. Everything okay, requesting final departure clearance."
"Tower to HH-19 that's affirmative. You are clear all the way to the runway."

With the Towers blessing, Robert advanced the throttles and released the brakes, letting the little aircraft pivot around until it was pointed at the taxiway. As an experienced pilot he had no troubles at all manuevering the little jet around the circuit to the runway.

"Tower this is HH-19 we are at the initial point on the runway, making our turn and run up now"
"Roger HH-19, ascend to 5,000 feet and proceed to 220. At that point swtich frequencies to the local controller for your planned flightpath to Waikiki. Aloha old buddy."

He chuckled but did not key the mic. Tower was undoubtedly dealing with someone else already, and FAA rules limited the amount of byplay allowed on official radio channels. Instead he turned the dial to INTERCOM and said "Captain to Crew, departure positions"

The rollout went well, followed by the screaming hurtle up the runway to the rotate speed. Finally the earth relinquished her jealous grip on the little jet and released her into the skies. The local controller was contacted and the autopilot set, as the plane made its way up to 35,000 feet and turned onto its correct heading.

That was the hardpart over.

 

[Tibxo]

He awoke and for a moment, one brief moment, he found heself at home. Lying in in their soft, comfortable bed. From the smell that struck his nostrils, he knew that his lovely new wife was already up and making his breakfast.

Then he heard it: A bird cawing which quickly was followed by the smell of breakfast cooking giving way to the smell of sea water.

And the half-waking dream was gone. He wasn't home. He wasn't with his wife. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked up at the deep blue sky. The same blue sky that he has been waking to for as long as he can seem to remember. Had he been there a month, a year? Time had no meaning there.

For moments, he considered when he should even bother to get up as he always did each morning. But the growl in his belly persuaded him that he should...

 

[Breath of Air]

Wrong place, terribly sorry, ignore me.

 

[Starsailor2804]

Paul Kaffrey

Paul was still sweating slightly, he had barely boarded the plane on time, and the cool air in this blasted plane was just not kicking on yet like it should. Wiping his forehead he looked up at the overhead compartment hoping he hadn't broken his CD player. If he had now that really would have sucked, but, he thought as he pulled out his wallet and checked. Dad's credit card will do really well on this vacation, what was the credit limit on this thing anyways? Hah, it didn't matter, his dad wouldn't mind.

Sitting back and relaxing Paul took a look around the plane, first those sitting next to him, glad he had an aisle seat. Smiling he said hi to an older lady whose husband was looking out the window on the other side of the plane. "Hello there young man, it is our 55th wedding anniversary, we are going back to where we met 55 years ago," she said with a gentle smile. Paul couldn't help but to smile and congratulate her and her husband. They talked for alittle, where they were from, and so on and so on.

After awhile as the plane finally moved away from the stairs Paul looked around at other people on the people, he was definately nosey. The air had kicked in fortunately by now and he was cool and relaxed. Rubbing his neck as he turned his head he saw a group of ladies (Julie) sitting down, the one obviously appearing nervous. Smiling he tried to comfort her with it before he turned his head forwards again and looked down the center aisle towards the cockpit.

Paul had totally forgot how long this flight would last, an hour or so, but whatever the case he would be in Hawaii soon enough. Finally, as the plane took off Paul breathed calmly and leaned back allowing the plane to do its job. It was when they finally reached cruising altitude that Paul relaxed again. He didn't mind flying, but how he hated taking off and landing! Leaning over again he looked back at the young lady once again seeing that she was doing alright before he relaxed once again.

He didn't want to sleep, but he had been flying all day long it seemed.

 

[Snow-Guy]

Sean ran a hand through his hair, grimacing slightly as his fingers caught on the knots that had magically appeared since the last time he'd done it. It had been touch and go, but he'd made it on as one of the standby passengers.

His hand baggage was safely stowed in the overhead bin, and the rest of his wordly posessions were in the hold. Next stop, a certain little Hawaiin right hand break that he'd heard about while he was in Australia (best country on earth, but the beaches were getting crowded).

Sean settled into his seat and tried to find a comfortable posture. Then it would be time to see who the seating lottery had put him next to.

 

[Vikingstone]

Reggie

"Pfft, eh?" Reggie repeated with reverence. "Hmmm, sounds like a well-worn, time honored family name, going all the way back to when your people were dragging their knuckles across northern France, I presume?" Reg knitted his brow and stroked his chin in mock consideration of the lineage of the eminently fuckable Ms Messalina. Then Reggies' demeanor changed to child-like wonder, excited curiosity, "So, do you have a spirit ancestor name, Gronk or Blorg perhaps?

Messalinas' smile broadened even farther and Reggie's face morphed slowly into his most inviting smile. More attractive by the moment, this one. Funny, sassy and even squished into these inexcusably restrictive seats, looking at her had a parade of unnatural acts marching thru Reggies' gently-perverted brain.

The sudden application of power took Reggies' attention away from the engaging Messalina. Take off time, Reg checked his seat belt and then leaned slightly toward his pulchritudinous seat-buddy, making positive contact with her firm shoulder. She looked toward him and was greeted by a conspiratorial wink. Messalina rolled her eyes but continued to smile as they lifted smoothly into the unmatchable azure sky...

 

[Steiner]

Robert slumped back in his seat, his eyes scanning dials and gauges. This was the part of the flight where the pilot usually got some rest, drank some coffee and maybe even chatted with the passengers. Not today, not today because there was a teensy problem with the engine.

Of course a teensy problem could rapidly become a screaming ball of fire and debris pittering down onto the Pacific's surface so Robert was watching the Starboard burner like a hawk, wondering which would come apart first - it or his nerves.

The engine stoically continued to do its job, with barely a drop in output. It's temperature continued steady and it continued to develop exactly the right amount of thrust, but the thready pulse of the pressure gauge told the real story. Fuel system. Possibly a gasket. Possibly a joint. The miles ticked past quickly - but not quickly enough for Robert.

"Ah well - about halfway"

 

[Messalina]

Messalina

Take-offs were always the worst for Messalina, between that ear thing she had going on and the stomach flips, topped by the cloying aroma of her seatmate's cologne... She leaned back but kept her eyes riveted on the barf bag sticking out of the magazine holder affixed to the seat in front of her.

It was impossible to avoid touching, but right now, the feeling of someone else's heated body and bare skin pressing against hers was almost more than she could bear. Not to mention the fact that she'd broken out in a cold sweat. Squirming uncomfortably, she tried to shift herself, but that seemed to activate some sort of sadistic homing device in Trowbridge's arm that made it follow her movements everywhere in a sort of bizarre push-me-pull-you way.

Her mouth open and ready to protest, Messalina snapped it shut as a wave of nausea coursed through her. Managing a feeble eye roll, she turned away again, but not before she caught something in his eyes that directly contradicted his present and previous behavior. Interesting, she thought, but it was probably only something she'd imagined. She didn't relax again until she felt her ears pop and knew they'd attained altitude.

 

[penprick]

Bad Weather

It was a windless, cloudless mid-afternoon. It was not a normal day. The only sound was the soft lapping of the waves upon the coral beach. The chirping of birds was absent. Such signs were unmistakable, as he'd witnessed dozens of times before. He fully expected the hunting party to return empty handed soon as the wild boars and other wildlife would be headed for higher ground. Often animal instinct was far wiser than man's conscious senses.

Mako'a made his way through the village to the Hale Ali'i, the house of his people's Chief, Kawaihae. The imposing figure of Kawaihae himself stood out upon the raised platform of which his thatch hut was built. Arms folded across his chest, the Cheif acknowledged the shaman without words.

Mako'a responded likewise by holding up the large, white, bulbous chonch shell. Kawaihae agreed with a nod and calmly returned to his abode. Mako'a raised the chonch to his lips and exhaled. Three times, he warned the villagers with a long, deep, chilling whistle. The Kapa'a-he'o village was to begin to gather supplies and move to higher ground immediately. A storm was coming.

 

[Breath of Air]

Elenoa



Elenoa had been enjoying a break from her various tasks in the day before the arrival of the storm. She walked alone on the beach, searching for the more beautiful shells she could find. Her mother's birthday was soon approaching, and Elenoa planned on making her a necklace.

The sand was soft under her feet, and she moved closer to the water, where her bare feet could sink slightly into barrier between land and sea. It was a soothing place, far from the bustle of their village, and the life she was adjusting to.

Elenoa was still young by custom, but she had very recently been accepted into womanhood, and now spent her times with the rest of the women, weaving baskets, cooking, whatever was required of her. She missed the days of playing with her friends of both sexes, but those times were gones.

Another thing she was getting used to was the new-found attention from the male members of the village. Now that she was of age, she was eligible for courtship, something she hadn't given thought to, but the boys - men - had. Not that they could be blamed. Her form had filled out, and she was considered one of the better looking girls of this generation. She seemed slender and delicate, with her curves filling out appealingly. Like most villagers, her hair was deep black and straight, in her case going past her shoulders and almost to her waist. Her eyes were dark brown - almost black, and she held a healthy tan.

Elenoa could feel in the air and in the water and in the ground that the storm was approaching. All the same, she wanted to collect as many shells as she could, and decided to wait till she heard the signal to return. It wasn't long before she heard them, three prolonged notes echoing throughout the tight air.

Gathering her shells into her arms, she ran lightly back to the village, arriving there as the village was preparing for the coming storm.

 

[slowandeasy]

"Cerulean Blue"

“Take the window seat 24B and I’ll tell you what my out-loud voice meant” Jacques had said smiling but with an edge of urgency in his voice. as he felt himself being sucked into a vacuum created by the diminishing crowd.
“Quick! Before the next wave threatens to overtake us”

In reality there had been no rising tide of travelers behind them only a few stragglers but he still felt a need for immediate action.

As the woman who had introduced herself as Kit Duvall smiled back in agreement turned away from him and moved silently toward the planes narrow hatch, a feeling of gratitude came over him.

Gratitude for her willingness to release him from the bond that he felt in her curiosity filled blue eyes and her half opened questioning mouth. A bond created by a need she must have felt when the only response to her spontaneous and open ended introduction had been “Cerulean blue” Two words that had seemed to be summing up an observation he had been making as his gaze settled on her eyes.

It seemed like an eternity for his line of sight to get to there, that place where he was being held captive. The journey that his eyes and mind had taken included all of her from her boot covered feet to the top of her blonde head. In reality it had only taken all of thirty seconds, but in that time he came to know that what he saw he liked and what he felt was good.

The urgency of the situation prevented thinking more about why she had affected him this way, so he stored it back in his head, every detail, for future reference and contemplation.

A few minutes later they were in their seats and the plane was in the air. Jacques watched Kit in silence as she looked out the window. Her seat, just ahead of the wing gave her a panoramic view of the sky as the plane made it’s assent

“Cerulean blue.’’ Jacques said softly, as he watched also, caught up in the rush of motion against gravity, arching his body forward as if to urge the plane upward and onward.

“Its’ beautiful, isn’t it” His voice was almost a whisper and she turned to him. Looking intently at her face, he added “The same color as your eyes. Kit Duvall” Then he laughed as if he’d discovered something that nobody else knew.

 

[Vikingstone]

Reggie

Reg smiled at the bit of armrest warfare that he and his new traveling companion were engaged in until he realized the poor woman was going a bit pale as the plane climbed steeply toward it's cruising altitude. He backed off quickly in deference to her obvious distress. She didn't really look like a booter, but she was definitely not enjoying that familiar stomach-dropping sensation as much as Reggie. Hell, if the Captain had been taking requests that morning, Reg would have asked for a few barrel-rolls!

Patting her shoulder Reggie reassured the charming Ms Pffft, "There, there my pet, just think of the white sand beaches glowing in the moonlight as you and I stroll them tonight after dinner. " He winked again and smiled gently before pulling away from her and leaning into the aisle, giving her a bit more room to relax.

Glancing around the little cabin, he noticed a few more had gone green around the gills, including the delectable Julie, who was resting her forehead on her delicate hand. She wouldn't have much longer to suffer. They didn't call these flights "hops" for nothing, about the time they achieved altitude it was time to begin their descent.

Suddenly Reggies' bemused observation of his sweaty fellow travelers was cut short by a hint of rather incongruous vibration. Just a tiny pulsation that did not jibe with the otherwise silky smooth flight he'd been enjoying thus far. Reggie made no outward sign, but craned his neck a bit to look up toward the bulkhead behind the cockpit. No extra movement by the flight attendant, she hadn't even looked up from the Conde Nast Traveler she was reading. But the slight trembling continued. The Captain would have to get that checked in Oahu before his next hop. Reggie was fairly convinced that it wasn't something to be concerned about. After all, by his watch, their ten minute descent should begin any second.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Makani

Makani was running with the wind like the birds who were breaking from cover, as if to herald the oncoming storm. Her hair whipping wildly around her head, she spread her arms wide to embrace it.

The sound of Mako'a's warning reached her just as the first heavy drops began to beat a tattoo on the canopy of trees above her. Lifting her face, she caught one on her tongue and thanked the akua for their gift of a male rain. A storm right now would both soothe and wash away the storm that had been brewing inside of her for the past few days.

Reluctantly turning back toward the village, she stopped briefly before a pohaku stone to leave the flower that she'd been wearing behind her ear. It wasn't much, but she knew it would be appreciated.

Singing out her joy, Makani hurried along. Her people would already be moving to one of the terraced places, she knew, and there would be no conceivable pardon for her not to obey the call.

Lost in thought, Makani never saw the tree as it was uprooted. She died instantaneously.

 

[Steiner]

All was calm and peace on the flight deck as the autopilot beeped - signalling the turn onto the last leg before the local pattern.

"Roger HH-19 , passing you to Local Control."

Turning to the correct frequency, Robert hoped the snores of his co-pilot would not be audible over the radio. The flight had been routine for the boy - since the Autopilot flew and Robert had ridden the dials, he'd dropped off despite a supreme effort about 20 minutes ago.

"Waikiki Tower, this is HH-19 commerical, coming in from the South East with a scheduled flightplan all on schedule."

The Tower acknowledged this data and then, all of a sudden the situation changed.

A small red light interrupted the green and orange display on his panel. Some red lights are merely cautionary, others warn the pilot of a developing situation he can head off. Others, like this one, inform him that his day has just got profoundly worse. Fuel line rupture, auto cut off failure and a fire in the Port Engine!

In inquests they like to use the term "pilot error" to explain the highly human mistakes that pilots who have been numbed by daily routine for 20 years make when something goes badly wrong and they have a fraction of a second to fix it. In this case, though, Robert was right on the ball - and he immediately enacted the required and mandated steps to resolve the situation, which is why the explosion centred on the port engine was relatively small.

Alas there are few routine and minor explosions on an aircraft in flight. The plane juddered, and fragments from the detonation badly damaged the elevators. Now the single red light had lots of friends, some of the large and flashing and all accompanied by a loud buzzing that neatly underscored the nature of the situation. The sirens and klaxons wouldn't start until the planes flight envelope became untenable in about 3 minutes or so.

This is HH-19, MAYDAY! MAYDAY! at 158 E, 21 30 N. MAYDAY, MAYDAY! We have suffered an explosion in the port engine, systems are damaged, flight controls damaged, I don't think I can hold her!

Robert vaugely recognised the voice as his own, Tower quickly responding to the sort of situation that controllers train for and drill for and never get over when they happen.

Damn it, the flight envelope WAS unstable, there was no way he was making the airport, in fact he'd need luck and every ounce of skill just to make the island itself.

Robert began to trade altitude for speed, keeping the plane away from the stall that would likely kill everyone aboard, but bringing her closer to the angry black clouds that he'd been flying above.

 

[Cordae]

Julie Malone

Feeling the plane begin to bump, and then bump some more, and then get much worse, Julie snapped her head up straight and looked at her friends. The looks on their faces confirmed what she felt. The bumping along that their little plane was doing was more than just some turbulence. Julie tightened her seatbelt and took deep breaths, as she looked across the isle at Mae, sitting in the window seat on the "port" or left side of the plane look out the window. Suddenly, a scream curled through the plane and Mae turned back to her friends.

"That engine is on FIRE!!" Julie watched as her friends became panicked. Shawna quickly grabbed Julie's hand, and leaned her other arm across the isle to grab the hands of the other two. Bowing her head, she began to pray. Slowly, the sounds of Kelly's sobbing, and Mae's hyper-ventilating faded, and the girls took comfort in the quiet drone of Shawna's voice. Julie closed her eyes, and felt the nausea return to her gurgling stomach.

When again she opened them, Julie focused on the one flight attendant, who was making her way to the nose of the plane. (Assumably to ask the pilot exactly what was going on)

 

[Butch]

Kwame Uhuru

The customs had gone unbelievingly smooth. Other than some suspicious looks he'd gone through it same as everybody else. He'd gotten the window seat next to some woman. She seemed to be nervous but refrained from talking to him. He was truly grateful. Even though he knew it was because of the color of his skin it didn't bother him this once. Panicky people didn't mix well with Kwame. Panic was contageous and even though Kwame always kept his cool he knew what would happen if everyone around him were infected by it. Especially in a tight, confined place such as this plane. It would be a disaster.

 

[Starsailor2804]

Paul had been relaxing, the flight had been going pretty well for the brief time they had been up there, was suddenly the plane felt like it had hit something. Jolted by the force of the disruption, whatever the heck it was, Paul swore out loud, as loud as he possibly could. Gripping onto his chair he reached down and tightened his seatbelt as he looked out the window of the plane. On his side everything was alright, but then he suddenly heard someone yell that the one engine was on fire.

Well, what could he do besides freak out more? Instead he relaxed, he wasn't all that religious, he went to church every now and then, but he did pray every night before bed. It was just a routine he did, and, he thought as he gripped the cross around his neck, I guess this is what was meant to be. What bad luck I have, he thought. Closing his eyes he sat back in his chair and relaxed despite being nearly tossed out of his seat every now and then.

Plus, the screaming and crying wasn't helping, it pained him to hear the women crying and screaming. It wouldn't be long now...

 

[papillon24]

Angie let the waves of the ocean soothe her as she tried to sleep. The Altima was on corse so there was no need to worry. Soon she stood and made her way to the cabin. The radio was always a good thing to check once in a while. She flipped through the channels listeneing to the static. Nothing.....

"MAYDAY! ". She jumped at this.
Some one was in trouble. She had to try and help. She listened a bit more to here the rest.

This is HH-19, MAYDAY! MAYDAY! at 158 E, 21 30 N. MAYDAY, MAYDAY! We have suffered an explosion in the port engine, systems are damaged, flight controls damaged, I don't think I can hold her!

She got on the radio"HH -19 this is Angie Kindes with the Altima. Do you need assistance. I repeat, Do you need my assistance. I'm going to call the coast gaurd for your help."

She waited for a response. the fuzz of the radio was the only sound coming from the radio.

 

[Vikingstone]

Reggie

"Well, I say," shouted Reggie over the din of the terrified passengers, "I believe I'll have a quick look-see, you just stay right here my pet and cinch that belt up just a tad more." He winked and smiled at Messalina before shooting up to the cock-pit in a crouching run.

The terrified flight attendant tried to head him off, "PPLEASE sir, back to your seat and buckle in tight!!"

"I'm a fighter pilot, Darling, perhaps I can be of some assistance, now YOU sit down and strap yourself in, everyone else seems to be staying seated so tell them the crash drill!" Reggie smiled into her eyes as well as she clicked into professional mode and got on the inter-cabin microphone.

Reggie knew that this sort of uncontrolled jangling was a death rattle for a craft of this size and he needed to avail himself to the captain for any sort make shift repairs that might keep this beast in the air or restore enough control for the man to attempt a survivable crash landing. The co-pilot looked just out of short pants and Reggie expected to find the lad in a puddle of his own urine when he got through the door.

Just then the pilot put on power and Reggie was tossed backward down the aisle a few rows. When he looked up he saw the horrified faces of the quartet of young lovelys. How sad is was to see their sweet faces so twisted in fear.

"Now, now, my dears just a bit of turbulence, I'm going to see if the pilot might use an extra hand. And I certainly will not accept this little bit of foolishness as an excuse for missing our dinner tomorrow night, my treat, remember?!" He expected and got no response from the trembling girls. Back into his crouch he rushed again for the front, grabbed the door handle and yanked it open.

I say, Captain Robert, I've flown everything from Hornets to Blackhawks, may I be of any assistance, sir?