Flight of the Damned

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of depression, violence, as well as displays of blood and gore, monsters, etc.

January 16, 2011.

I write in my diary, the first entry in this notebook, just as the plane takes off, a little before sunset. I look out the window to my right, seeing the golden sun set behind the rolling hills of the home I once knew, the marmalade and pale pink sky painting the heavens with a peaceful image. The take-off is a little bumpy, and my writing on the page is a bit messy, but nonetheless, I will continue to write.

The Boeing 747 finally evens out and stops being so bumpy as we rise ever higher, above the clouds and out of sight of my home, America. My family had sent me away to "live a better life", they said, having bought me a one-way ticket to Europe to go on that GAP year trip I always wanted to. I'd stayed in America for far too long, indoctrinated with the overbearing insistence on "land of the free, home of the brave" and the American flags flying outside of every goddamn house. My name is Juniper, June for short, and I hate America. I hated going to school every morning and not knowing if I was ever going to come home again. I hated seeing my friends weep uncontrollably because they just lost someone else today. I've never been the most empathetic person, and I'm not sure why that is. I hated seeing them draw further into themselves, stop talking, stop breathing - even.

I stop writing and look out the window, hoping and praying to whatever God exists in the great unknown for a better world. I suddenly hear the seatbelt sign ding loudly above me, and I jump a little. It's much darker now, and we've reached cruising altitude above a cloud layer that's much less pretty than it sounds. It's just a lonely expanse of night that feels so dark, so empty. I lower my tray table and zip open my backpack, pulling out my reading light so I can continue to write.

The night sky is quiet, just like everyone else in this plane is, except for the distant coo of a baby a few rows down and the snore of an older man in Row 15, which is three rows up from mine. Sometimes I can hear people chatting idly, and the small metal cart rolls by with refreshments, pushed by a matronly-looking flight attendant whose skirt looks two sizes too small for her slightly larger body. I accept a drink of orange juice, and pull out some vitamins from my backpack and take those with my juice. She also gave me a packet of pretzels, and I eat those, thanking my lucky stars I also got juice. I hate dry food. Opening my notebook again, I begin to write once more, but then the meal cart passes by, and I end up taking a tray of chicken carbonara with some sweet biscuits on the side, and another cup of orange juice as well. I eat up eagerly, savouring every bite of food. Then, when I'm finished, the meal cart attendants come around again, and they take my tray, but not before I stuff the sweet biscuits in my backpack for later. I turn to the window, looking out at the dark expanse around me. Then, I duck my head again, absorbing myself in my diary again.

Nothing except for the sound of the plane engines, I write. Absolutely nothing. It's quiet, but here and there, I hear children making a small bit of noise as they kick someone's seat five rows up and dump Skittles on the floor, which I think will be a pain in the ass for the flight attendants to clean up later. Then there's the cry of a baby, probably calling out for its mother, or for the altitude of the plane to stop hurting its ears. No matter. The baby is in its mother's arms as she paces a few steps up and down the plane, gently bouncing the little one, and he - or she settles after a few minutes. Several other people on the plane sit mindless in front of their small screens, and while I really like movies, I don't want to have to strain my eyes for several hours. Not that type of gal.

Hearing a buzzing sound over the intercom, I look up to hear broken, crackling noises coming from it, and everyone instantly looked up and around the area.

'Experiencing... some disturbances - we'll be... right with you.' Just then the plane rumbled, and shook. The lights flickered temporarily, and then from near the front of the plane, a guttural growl sounded. A passenger screamed from further up the plane, and stomping feet sounded a second later before the screaming person went deadly silent. Another guttural growl, and I looked to the front of the plane to see a hulking shadow finish off what looked like one of the flight attendants. A few more passengers screamed, and then, I heard another growl. But it was closer. I looked to my right, seeing an older man next to me loll his head over carelessly to mine. But the man wasn't asleep, and he - or it, rather, stared at me with empty, blackened eyes, and the suit he was wearing didn't look right on his face all of a sudden. Foam dripped from the creature's mouth, and my heart pounded so hard I thought it was going to burst in my chest. More crackling sounded over the intercom, and screams erupted throughout the cabin. The kids and babies that were quiet a second ago began echoing piercing screams throughout the plane cabin, and moments later, the plane lurched and the lights flickered, shutting off completely as the plane began to descend in freefall. The creature reached for her, and she screamed in fright, doing the only thing she knew how to do in that moment -

She unlocked her seatbelt, hurtling herself throughout the plane cabin as the violent, empty creatures that were once humans ripped through everything in sight. The creatures were too focused on gorging their insatiable appetites to notice her. She moved throughout the tiny plane cabin and found a hiding spot in first class, the carnage around her nearly making her sick. They'd already done their dirty work in first class, the horrid creatures, and blood was splattered against the walls like a true crime TV show. Bodies laid mangled on the floor, just bare shells of the people they once were, covered in blood and guts and gore.

Just then, the door to the pilot's cabin slammed open, and one of the creatures faced her, wearing the tattered rags of what used to be the pilot's uniform. She turned, grabbing a steak knife off of one of the meal carts, and lunging for the creature, stabbing it into the side of its neck. It screamed in an animalistic manner, barely human, and collapsed, reaching for her with clawed, gnarly hands. She pulled out the knife and stabbed it into its head, and the flailing hands ceased. Gingerly stepping over the body, she dropped the knife on the floor, looking out the large panoramic window to see the wings on fire as the plane hurtled below the clouds. As it broke through the clouds, she could only watch in utter shock and horror as the plane sped towards a cluster of tall buildings.