Train Wreck

four

REMINGTON POV

Black.

But... dark black.

The darkest, like when you're falling asleep and everything is so quiet and peaceful that you think you're floating.

I like floating.

It's why I loved swimming every summer with Reese. We would spend entire days at the small lake by our house, picnics with lemonade, and long afternoons spent enjoying cool water between naps in the soft grass and games of catch.  I used to love Baker's Pond.

Reese loved to play catch.  His favorite was screaming "GO LONG" and running as fast as his little legs could carry him until he got far enough and was able to throw for me.  For whatever reason, he misunderstood that this command typically meant for the catcher to run further, not the pitcher, but we decided not to correct him.

Standing still while Reese ran across our yard then threw a perfect fast ball into my glove was the perfect way to spend a summer afternoon.  He may have preferred soccer but that boy still played baseball just for me.

Why is it so dark?

My eyes opened to black.

No.

Not black. Smoke.

Now the smell filled my lungs and I coughed, a feeble attempt at catching my breath. My body felt like it had been hit by a truck which made sense.

The train had crashed.

Did something happen?  Some kind of explosion?  We were on the side and now I was hanging in mid-air, somehow still strapped in my seat.

I could tell I hit my head, the pain radiating from my forehead and pulsing while a cool drip rushed down my cheek.

Blood.  Shit.

Think, Remington. Think.

You need to survive.

My mind flashed to moments prior and I searched the train car for the green-eyed woman and her brother. Thick smoke hung in the air but as glass began to break and separate I saw sunlight break through the darkness, shining like a spotlight into the train car.

A rush of air left my lungs as I saw they were okay.

The pair were seated on the ground, huddled together and clearly injured, but they were alive. Another glance around the train car was not promising.  I saw no other movement, but there were bodies strewn about with luggage and steel everywhere I could see.

I took a deep breath and braced myself, giving the overhead handle a good tug a moment before gripping tightly with one hand then releasing my seatbelt with the other. Thankfully my subpar upper body strength held and I landed easily, brushing glass from my body and making sure my footing is solid before moving ahead.

Maybe it's a good thing I'm not a doctor since this is completely outside of my comfort zone.  I have no experience besides normal first aid training for sports injuries so I could wrap my own sprains and deal with sliding injuries from my baseball days.  Another glance to my left showed one of the passengers who were obviously dead, impaled by a steel beam that thrust from part of the fuselage.

My stomach lurched and I turned, throwing up next to my seat.

The air was sparse so I let myself take a moment to catch my breath, sucking in what fresh oxygen I could find from a crack in the train car.  My bag was still buckled into the empty seat that had been in front of me, strap tangled in the armrest as well after all the commotion.  I carefully got it sorted then put my backpack on, turning to figure out what I needed to do next.