Chapter 387: Foreign Forest
Linus is struggling to sit upright. Every part of his body hurts, of what his son would probably call "hurts like hell", and he chuckles at the thought, then groans as the pain punishes him for it.
After a while of struggling, he finally manages to sit fully upright. He gasps loudly the moment he takes in his surroundings.
His suite is flipped upside down. Belongings scattered everywhere. He’d been buried beneath a mattress and blankets, which he realizes now likely saved him from something far worse.
The Solitaire Suite itself is actually mostly intact. The roof is still attached. The windows too. But the door... it looks jammed shut.
I’m not sure I can open that. Linus thinks.
He knows he needs to get out quickly, he can already smell smoke, hear the distant crackle of fire somewhere nearby.
He tries to stand and discovers his left ankle is badly sprained.
He braces against the pain and forces himself up anyway. He scans the suite once more, making sure he hasn’t missed anything, then makes his way to the window, trying to see outside. The glass has cracked, and it’s dark beyond it, impossible to make anything out.
He closes his eyes, straining to listen for any sound at all. Everything comes back muffled.
"Hm. The insulation on this suite is quite good. Barely hear anything happening outside."
Then he shakes his head. "Unbelievable. I’m examining the suite instead of trying to survive."
He takes a breath and limps toward the sliding door, trying to force it open. It doesn’t budge.
"Yeah. Jammed. Just as I thought." He exhales.
He tries again, more force behind it this time. The door still doesn’t budge.
Linus steps back. "Okay. Useless. I need another way out."
He takes another step back, scanning his surroundings again, searching for anything that might help him force the door open.
"Something sharp." He almost laughs at himself. "Good luck with that, Linus. This is, was, a plane. You can’t bring anything sharp on board. Nothing that could pass as a weapon either." He mutters, still scanning, still thinking.
He rummages through the suite for several more minutes, finding his laptop, his carry-on bag, his shoes, plenty of things, but nothing that could actually help him force the door open.
After long minutes of standing and moving, the head injury finally catches up with him. A sharp throb hits, hard enough to steal his breath.
He clutches his head, closes his eyes, tries to will it away. He regulates his breathing too, working to control the pain.
When it finally eases, he opens his eyes again, only to be hit immediately by dizziness.
"Ugh." He knows what’s coming. "I must have a concussion." His gaze lands on the overturned mattress nearby.
He limps toward it as fast as he can, clears away the rubble and dust, sits down, and exhales.
"Okay, okay." He breathes out. "I can’t sleep. Not without supervision from medical personnel." He reasons with himself.
But his head refuses to cooperate. He can feel his consciousness slipping, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.
"Oh shit." Is the last thing Linus manages before his eyes close.
Then he’s out. His body slides sideways, slumping onto the mattress.
------------------------------
"Elder Loujt!" Sonia screams at the top of her lungs, panic thick in her voice. She’s been searching for him for a while now.
When the plane went down, she never lost consciousness. She was aware through all of it, and that awareness terrified her more than anything.
She truly believed she was going to die.
She’d managed to cast a light shield around herself in time, and it had saved her life. The lavatory she’d been in was torn apart, and she was sucked straight out of it. Without the shield, she would already be dead.
She couldn’t see where she was landing. It was dark, and everything happened too fast. She watched the rest of the plane go down, watched it fall in horrified, helpless silence, unable to do a single thing about any of it.
She landed far from where most of the wreckage came to rest. The explosion, from that distance, looked devastating. She was certain everyone had died. That she was alone, in the middle of nowhere, with no one left.
She cried. Wept, really. But somewhere in the middle of it, some instinct pushed her to start walking toward where the plane had gone down.
That was several hours ago.
As she got closer, she began yelling for Elder Loujt. But soon she couldn’t scream anymore. Her voice caught in her throat the moment she saw the bodies.
Scattered everywhere. On the ground. In the brush. Tangled in the wreckage. Some hanging high in the trees. Some, she could only tell were bodies at all because of a limb, nothing else recognizable.
Sonia’s whole body started to shake. The smell of burning flesh was too much. She clamped a hand over her mouth, pressed the other to her nose, and walked away as fast as she could.
She kept walking until she couldn’t smell it anymore, and only then did she stop. Only then did it hit her, she was completely alone. In the middle of a jungle full of the dead, utterly alone.
Panic took over, and she started shouting for Elder Loujt again.
Which is exactly what she’s doing right now.
She keeps shouting, but only for a few more seconds before she stops again, attention snapping to the bushes around her. Something’s making noise in there, and it’s making her nervous. Extremely nervous.
She keeps shouting, but only for a few more seconds before she stops again, attention snapping to the bushes around her. Something’s making noise in there, and it’s making her nervous. Extremely nervous.
Which is almost laughable, considering she grew up in the most dangerous jungle in all of Altheon. A little rustling in the brush should be nothing to her. And yet.
The bushes move. A growl follows, no, growls, plural. She gulps.
What are those? What kind of animals? Where am I? Which jungle is this?
Sonia can’t control the fear anymore. It flares up like fireworks going off in her chest. Her heart pounds so hard it feels like it might tear loose. Her hands shake. Her breathing turns ragged, uneven.
She wants nothing more than to run. To just get away.
But she knows if she runs, whatever’s behind those bushes might chase her down. She doesn’t want that either.
So what do I do?
The growls grow louder, though not closer, and in her mind that only means one thing, more of them, gathering. She whimpers.
Then, after a moment, a strange calm settles over her.
I can’t stay here.
Her survival instinct wins out over the fear. It forces her brain into motion, thinking, calculating, searching for a way through.
Her legs move faster than her brain can keep up. Slow steps at first, edging away from the noise little by little.
Then her brain catches up. She stops breathing so loudly. Lowers her body. Moves even slower now, terrified any sudden movement might set them off.
She exhales through her mouth, slow and quiet.
After what feels like a very long time to Sonia, she manages to put real distance between herself and the bushes. Her back is soaked through with sweat, though she doesn’t notice, too focused on getting away to register anything else.
When she believes she’s far enough, she lets out a breath in relief, though she still hasn’t fully released her guard. She stands motionless for a while longer, making sure nothing actually followed her.
Finding nothing has, she finally lets her body relax.
"Okay, Sonia. Okay. Everything’s going to be okay." She mutters to herself.
The next second, something jumps at her and she screams.
------------------------------
Elder Loujt’s head snaps toward the direction of a very loud scream. He can’t be certain if it’s his princess’s voice or not.
He’s currently with a group of survivors, searching the wreckage for anyone else still alive. So far they’ve gathered close to a dozen people, all with varying degrees of injury.
The survivors have managed to piece together a makeshift shelter, huddled together now to share whatever warmth they can.
For reasons none of them can explain, no one’s been able to get a fire started, and the forest temperature has dropped sharply.
Elder Loujt and most of the group are asleep when the scream cuts through the quiet. Some stir. Others don’t even move.
His own breathing comes uneven. A faint white mist curls from his mouth with every exhale, proof of just how cold it’s gotten.
Is that Her Highness? Why am I here instead of out there searching for her?
He scans the makeshift shelter around him.
If I leave, these people won’t survive. They can’t even start a fire, and I can’t start one either. Not without exposing what I am.
He sighs.
I have to keep pretending I’m just like the rest of them. I can’t suddenly conjure fire. I can’t stand out.
Another headache hits him, sharp and sudden.
Ugh. This headache. I can’t even properly look at my own head wound, let alone heal it, not in front of all these people.
He’s still turning it over in his mind when another survivor starts coughing violently, then vomits blood without warning.
"Oh my God! Zombie!"