The Guadeloupe Squadeloupe

Chapter V: Guad

"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live."- Dorothy Thompson

It's ridiculous how quickly something can go from great to a disaster. When we rode up the thing pulling the bags into the plane, my heart was pounding with excitement. Now it pounds with fear.

We're plummeting through the air at untold speeds. Bob and I are being thrown around in the hull, suitcases smacking us in the face as we try to hold on.

I can barely hear anything: the wind roars in my ears.

"Wow you're such a genius, Guad!" Bob yells sarcastically. I've never really heard him use sarcasm but I guess life threatening situations bring out something else in people.

"Shut up and help me find a way to get out of here!" I snap at him. Now is not the time for jokes.

I cling to a red bag, hoping I don't lose my balance and fly into the wall. The plane is so slanted when I look at Bob I'm staring down.

He glances to me with a confused expression. "You know there's no way to get out of here, right? We're kind of in the air!"

Rolling my eyes, I examine the hull, trying to find some way out. "This part of the plane is going to hit the ground first and I'd rather not be there when that happens!" I yell, feeling frustration fuel through me.

"Great! Then we'll have .0001 more seconds to live!" Bellows Bob.

Suddenly, I feel like I'm slapped in the face. Maybe because I am. My hand reaches out and grabs something. It's coarse and rough in my hands.

I pull it down to where I can see. It's a packet of letters. At first, I don't think much of it, but then I see what sets it apart from most packets of letters.

"Bob, this letter has my name on it!" I call.

"What?" Asks Bob, not looking terribly interested.

But I know this isn't the greatest time to be confused, so I stuff the packet of letters into my pocket and decide to look at them later, if I'm still alive. But who would drop of letters for you in the middle of a plane crash? Who's that interested in you? 

Go back to trying to escape, Guad. This is no time to think about that.

My eyes frantically skim the low ceiling until they spot a small square shaped thing. "Bob! I think I found a way out!" I call.

It's not five seconds later that Bob yells out something of his own. "Guad! Fire!"

"What?" I turn to my friend to find him desperately clinging to a suitcase, fire licking its way to him.

Not pausing for words, I rush forward, holding onto the wall, for I fear I might wind up in the flames too. I reach my hand forward to Bob and he strains to grasp it. That's when we hit turbulence again. The plain lurches forward, and I stumble off the wall and start flying to the fire.

"Guad!" Bob yelps.

I grasp onto a suitcase and pull my way forward. I've never had such need for strength as I do now.

Groaning, I make my way next to Bob. "We need to get away from that fire!" I tell him.

Bob looks at me, confused. "Wait, is that not where we're supposed to roast the marshmallows?"

"Shut up!" I yell.

"Well don't be stupid!"

Trying to shake him out of my mind, I pull my way forward and up to my feet. Bob does the same, and is soon at my side.