Jacqueline Druga - Under the Gray Skies

My worst-case scenario thought was the event that happened was so big, no help could possibly get to our area yet.

I had to find them if I wanted to survive.

Lord knew how long that could take.

At least it wasn’t the end of the world, or so I believed.

I felt a sense of guilt about that plane, like I was robbing a graveyard. In a way I was. It was the resting place of what I determined was three of the flight crew. The plane was a wealth of everything I could use.

Before I touched or took anything, I used those red airplane blankets and covered those who were killed. Then I said a prayer.

I must have used half a case of water to clean myself up, and it took me awhile.

The flight attendants had brought their luggage onboard and I borrowed one bag so I could carry my supplies that I had gathered. Borrowed was a loose term, there was no giving it back. It belonged to an attendant named, Amber. I was able to locate her among the bodies. If I was going to take her luggage it was the least I could. Find her, know who she was. I managed to remove her name tag, her wedding ring and watch. I placed those in a small bag and put them in the luggage for when I arrived at a help center and found her family. I wanted to thank them for what she had done posthumously for me. I borrowed some clothes, because after I cleaned up, I discovered the ones in my backpack had collected the scent of death from my tiny haven where I spent ten days.

I used her hairbrush to get the knots and other disgusting stuff from my hair and her pair of good tennis shoes that were only slightly too big, but better than the slip on ones I wore. Kicking my way out of that hole took its toll on my shoes.

I found myself spending an hour smelling the hand lotions and other toiletries just to have a scent in my nostrils that wasn’t one of rotting and death. They weren’t survival items, but dousing them on a cloth near my face masked some of the decomposition smells, plus being clean and feeling fresh gave me a little bit more strength, rejuvenating me.

Amber, in a sense was a part of my journey out of the ruins.

I scavenged the entire plane. I had nothing but time to kill and I went through it all. At least the items I could reach.

The best find was the compass that was in the emergency cabinet with the flashlights. There were items in there for survival. I supposed it was in case the plane crashed somewhere like in the television series ‘ Lost ’.

The matches, the water, the tiny bottles of booze that could also be sanitizers, first aid kits, crackers and snacks boxes, along with anything else I deemed I would need, for wherever reason, I hoarded and packed.

That small carry on suitcase was packed full to bursting. I found another backpack and stocked that, too.

The storm raged on for most of the night. Each time I looked out the open door, I noticed the water was deeper.

After taking what I could and since it was far from the bodies, I made myself comfortable in the back of the plane with a notebook and a couple pens I found in the galley.

I was starving and I dined on two of those snack boxes. Salami, hummus, crackers and olives. I washed them down with two bottles of water and a couple airline size peach schnapps. A really bad combination.

I threw up.

It was too much, too fast, and I resigned myself that at least for a little bit, I would need to nibble.

I started on a fresh page of that notebook, leaving the previous notes in there and oddly, I put in the two pictures that Amber had in her suitcase. Amber was beautiful, in her mid thirties with dark blonde hair. Her perfect smile in each picture showed how happy she was in her life. One photo was of her and a man I assumed was her husband. The other was Amber with two blonde haired children, no older than four and five. A boy and a girl. Like I had. It was sad to think they’d grow up without their mom. She reminded me so much of Kate Lee, a single mom who lived in apartment 217 at our complex.

Kate was a great mom, worked hard. Sometimes she was late on rent. I covered for her a lot, because I knew she’d eventually pay me back.

She always did.

I wrote down my thoughts, my short goals, where I’d go, what I needed to find, along with a few thoughts on what I had been through. I didn’t write for long because I didn’t know how long the batteries would last in the flashlight. I needed the flashlights. After about fifteen minutes, I shut off the light and resigned myself to spending the rest of the night in the dark. My only brightness was the flashes of lightening.

Surprisingly, I felt safe, I really did, and comfortable. It was a long time since I had felt comfortable.

My back and legs still hurt and curling up helped. I made a pseudo bed in the last row of the plane, a couple small pillows behind my head and a blanket over me. I lay there in the dark thinking of my family, praying that they were okay and maybe they knew I was as well.

It wouldn’t be long until we were all together and I was home safe.

It would happen.

I just had to get to them. I vowed, then and there, nothing would stop me until I did.

Dear Davis,

This is my first night outside the hole. The eleventh day since the world lost color. I found a place to sleep for the night in a plane. I don’t know if you’ll ever read this, or if this notebook will make it home. I am writing to you first because you are my best friend. I’m scared. Scared I’ll never get out of here, out of this city and state. There’s so much destruction. Where are the rescue workers? A flight attendant named Amber has helped me out. Sadly, she has done so posthumously. I just need to thank her. If you look on the previous page I did. I’m making a list of all those who help in one way, or another. Hopefully that list will be short because I will be out of here soon.

Was I that injured, that sick, that I would sleep that soundly and long sprawled across three hard plane seats that slanted downward?

I did and I also dreamed.

I dreamed of Lindsay and that stupid song she played in the car on the way to the airport. She was so excited about the trip.

“Come on, Lace, sing. You know this song.”

Was she joking? Me sing? She got enough of me singing when I was younger and we both submerged our worlds into that teen idol music.

She was singing, but we weren’t in the car in my dream, we were on that tram.

Why was she singing? Everyone around us in that dream was panicking and scared, sniffling and crying. Lindsay just sang.

In the dream I saw the huge cloud of smoke and debris rolling towards us. The second it impacted I woke up.

Sitting up in my makeshift bed, I caught my bearings and looked at my watch. I had been sleeping for ten hours. I was afraid to move again as an ache filled my body. It was the first time since being in the tram that I dreamed of the impact.

What was it?

Earthquakes first, then a wall of gray clouds rolling at us with a force that knocked down everything in its path.

I went through my mind trying to imagine what kind of event would cause it? I just didn’t know.

All I knew was I was in a destroyed area left and forgotten about, and I had to get out without any help.

It didn’t cross my mind that whatever occurred was global, it couldn’t be.

I gathered my things, shoved the blanket and a pillow in my bag and after a bottle of water, decided it was time to leave.

The plane was warm, in fact it was the first time I felt warm in days. I didn’t understand it, the skies were still gloomy and dark, and the sun wasn’t even partially visible. How could it be warm?