The Craving - Marooned

3. The Beep

The only thing I heard was the beep. A continuous, pure tone ringing in my ears.

A single note, not an alert. It was a noise that didn't fit the scene unfolding before me—the scene of a cabin in chaos, of disaster happening.

The flight attendant fell as if in slow motion, blown backward through the curtain behind her. She clasped it, and the runners came loose, one by one. She and the curtain disappeared into the gloom of the fore galley.

The man in the row in front of me got up and looked back, still wearing his inflated life jacket. His eyes widened, his mouth opened. He grasped his headrest and contracted his shoulders as if uttering a desperate cry. His lips pulled back, exposing age-stained teeth.

All sound was swallowed by the persistent ring in my ears.

A violent jerk went through the craft. The cabin tilted sideways. The man in the next row lost his balance. Gesticulated as he fell. He and his life vest disappeared from my view.

Flaps opened along the ceiling, birthing white-yellow bags. They fell a stretch in perfect choreography. Then they swayed wildly to the ringing in my ears, suspended by their umbilical plastic tubes.

Tendrils of smoke wafted forward, bringing along the acrid stench of burning plastics.

There had been an explosion, but this didn't make sense. The engines had stopped, why should there be an explosion, too? One disaster was enough.

The plane leveled out again.

Outside the window, there was still that steel-gray, rain-swept expanse of water under a lid of clouds. My neighbor Farid clasped the sides of the seat in front of him.

The sea lay flat below us, moving aft with increasing speed.

Farid looked through the window, then back at me. He reached out towards me and put a hand behind my head, pushing me forward, surprising me with the gesture.

What did he want?

He let me go, curled up, placed his head on his knees, and covered it with his hands.

Brace for impact.

I followed his example, turning myself into a human bundle. Just me, the beep in my ears, and the thumping of my heart.

The smoke was worse now, irritating my nostrils and bringing tears to my eyes.

A tremor rang through the hull. I tensed my muscles.

Wasn't this the moment where I should think about something significant? A cherished memory? Something worthy of my last fucking moments?

Sam, my husband! But the image my memory gave me was of him bleeding on the pavement, after the accident. The essence of his life a pool of red—glistening blood on black, cracked tarmac. Dissipating into the cracks, taking my heart, my passion, and my craving with it.

Not the image to take with me.

I looked to my right. Farid's position was unchanged—fingers webbed over the back of his head.

A buzz penetrated the beep in my ears. A voice, metallic and urgent, vying for my attention.

"Brace for emergency landing," it buzzed. "Brace. Brace. Brace"

I did brace. I was braced.

"Brace for—"

Impact.

~~~

The ringing in my ears was still there. Weaker though. Weak enough to let me hear the cries, the shouting, the splashing.