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gjnhjfdhns: Part THIRTY-FOUR: Reunited
It felt like hours since I'd abandoned contemplating the end (/Six feet under? More? How far down will this go?/) and slipped into unconsciousness. I woke up with a start, jumping to my feet with a bit of a stumble due to some sort of vertigo. It was the second time in a row I'd woken up in a dark, underground place, except this time I couldn't see the sky.
A disconcerting feeling.
Surprisingly enough, I wasn't covered in dirt or any type of mineral, save for a few clods clinging to my courdoroys. I brushed them off, finding that there were miniscule scratches all over my arms. Scratches probably caused by being pulled through something that felt like sandpaper.
I scowled, looking around. It felt like I was in a cave, except the ceiling was undeniably soil, and there was dirt below me, as well. How far down had I been pulled? Wouldn't there be rock by now?
I heard a groan behind me, and spun around to find Mitchell pulling himself up. He looked in the same state I was, which was a relief- as far as you could be relieved by finding out the only other person in sight is also haggard and slightly injured.
He shrugged, brushing small amounts of dirt off his person. "Could be better."
I gave him a grim smile before continuing my perusal of the place we'd been dumped into. I meandered around, and, when I looked up, found a hole. It was much too high to reach, but it seemed to be the only escape from whereever we were.
All things considered, I'd rather be up in that creepy cemetary than down here, probably below all those graves.
"What the /f*ck/."
I turned to Mitchell, an inquisitive look on my face, to find him standing in front of a sort of doorway, gawking at whatever he saw. I took a look inside, and my mouth ran dry. There, in another 'room', looking dusty and ill-used but not broken, was an airplane. It was huge, yet the room was bigger, making me wonder about the solidity of the 'ceiling'.
We walked over to it, circling it, and on the other side was a staircase to the plane's door. It looked as though it was ready for use, save for the gray-ish sheen and the random cracks along the body. After a moment of hesitation, Mitchell began walking up the stairs.
"Wha- Oi! Oi! What if there're zombie things in there or something?" I called to him, looking like was scolding him. "We are under a cemetary!"
"Won't know 'til you try, right?" He yelled over his shoulder, disappearing into the airplane. With an aggravated groan, I followed.
The interior was just like any regular plane, from what I could remember. Two aisles, three rows of seats, small windows, two washrooms... It was nothing extraordinary. The biggest oddity was how everything was grey-ing and looked overused, from the tears in the seats to the cracked windows.
"Wow..." I took small, halting steps, and tried to flick on a light or two. "They bury dead planes?"
Mitchell opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the sudden whir of technology coming to life. The sudden light pained my eyes, and it took me a moment to adjust. When the blurring and the stinging subsided, I gasped. There, amidst the threadbare seats, sat many familiar faces. Brian, Angel, Marina, Ale, Andrew... Everyone from my party, and even the people we'd met along the way. They stared straight forward, and weren't moving, as though they were mere statues- But no statue could imitate the level of terror I could see in their eyes. A generous piece of duct tape was covering their mouths.
"Oh... My God..."
Two hands slapped down on my shoulders, fingers resembling blades. I jumped in surprise, and felt that the fingers were sharp. In front of me, Mitchell was in the same predicament, giving me the chance to see who had snuck up on him. There was a tall figure behind him, metallic fingers looking rusted at the edges, dressed in a black suit. The figure's ashen face had no eyes, only a nose and a mouth.
I lost my breath.
"O h m y , s o m e . . . l a t e a r r i v a l s?" drawled the person behind me, suddenly right next to my ear. I fought hard not to jump again, lest the fingers give me a visible wound. The figure behind Mitchell seemed to be mirroring the one behind me. They spoke in hushed, raspy whispers, as though fearing eavesdropping. "Y o u m u s t b e s e a t e d b e f o r e t a k e o f f !"
The 'person' stood straight and looked over the seats, before grinning and leaning back toward my ear. "L u c k y y o u , t h e r e h a p p e n s t o b e a s e a t l e f t ! N o w , p l e a s e , f o l l o w m e . . . " Squeezing my shoulder, it used its other hand to guide me toward my seat, which was between Angel and Marina. After making sure I was firmly buckled in, it stood straight, clasping its hands, tilting its head, and giving me a grin. "P l e a s e r e l a x a n d m a k e y o u r s e l f a t h o m e . W e w i l l b e d e p a r t i n g s h o r t l y . "
I watched it leave, disappearing into what I assumed was that place where the flight attendants hang out, or maybe the cockpit. In any case, despite the seatbelt I wore, I did not feel safe. I looked at Angel and Marina, waving my hands in front of their faces, and getting no reaction. "Guys?" I leaned over to prod Ale, who sat beside Marina. "Ah-leeeeee?"
No use, Goddamn it. What's wrong with them?
I sighed. "Mitchell? You still alive?"
"Where are you?"
"Uh... A few rows back?"
I tried to twist in my seat to look back, but the seatbelt was really tight. I undid it and kneeled on my seat, looking past the faces to Mitchell's, three rows behind me. "Anyone living back there?"
He shook his head. "I've tried everything. They're not budging."
"Then..." I bit my lip. "Should we just... Go?"
"I... Guess. I don't really want to end up like everyone..."
The 'wear your seatbelt' sign flashed, unnoticed.
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