Luck in the North

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

 

 

        As I continued riding the plane towards Nunavut, I was still asleep so I missed out on lunch. But I didn’t care, the sleep was more important. I was still asleep when I heard a few screams of panic in the plane. Unaware of the situation, I woke up lazily to understand that we weren’t landing, but the plane was falling. I could feel the turbulence under my skin, suddenly making my heart skip beats. The automatic change in altitude frightened my inner guts to the extent that I puked right on the head rest of the seat in front of me. At that very moment, amongst the screams of women and men I heard the operator announce a mechanical failure in the engine and the entire plane began falling for its doom.

Some people jumped out with parachutes hoping to survive but I couldn’t move, I felt paralyzed. The smell of a burning fire existed through the planes turbines causing me to cough insanely trying to grasp the last breath I could take. I knew it was the end of it, the end of my luck, the end of my life, but I just couldn’t do anything about it. Before I knew it, the plane crashed and my vision became impaired. I lost all memory of what happened in that blink of a moment. All I knew is that I wasn’t alive anymore.

“You really are a creative writer, Drake! Did you ever think of that?” Elliot said seeming really enticed to know more.

“Never really occurred to me, I did write a lot of research papers but never a creative piece, to be honest Elliot I can’t think of imaginary shit.”

“Haha”, laughing like he heard the funniest thing in a long time. “Good one, continue with your journal I wanna know when I get introduced”, said Elliot smiling giving me a subtle wink.

I knew that the day I survived was such a coincidence, but Elliot took it as if fate knew we would end up meeting and he’d become some sort of role model for me. Elliot, even though he had a wife before she died, he never had kids. Elliot always dreamed that one day he’d have a son whom he could teach everything to. He was very optimistic, a quality I never had in myself until I met Elliot.

It felt like it had been days since I woke up again. The burning plane still in flames but nobody was in sight. I could tell if anyone had survived or not because I could see gushes of blood in some areas. As I began to stand, I fell right back on my ass, groaning in severe pain. The adrenaline in body depleted and now all the broken bones and wounds on me began to severely cut through my resistance. The agony. I yelled out to the top of my lungs and cried and wailed. I couldn’t help it. Somehow I survived a fucking plane crash. I have nothing with me anymore and I’m stranded in a bare land just full of damn fucking snow!

I realized that Elliot would just stare at me as I read him my journal. I could tell he was shocked on how I began remembering all this. Several times while I lived in his home, he’d ask me what happened but I could never play out the event enough for him to understand.

That night had been the most difficult night I could imagine. Crawling through the snow trying to relieve the pain I felt throughout my body. I wasn’t even wearing a jacket. Only my worn out suit giving me protection from the harsh winds. Every now and then I would hide in my blazer to keep my face from freezing. Luckily, the fire from the plane crashing kept burning so I had some sort of warmth, but nothing made a difference. I cried the entire night, not being able to sleep, calling upon different gods and making prayers hoping that I would survive or at least die right that instance. No answers. Shivering in vain I just stayed put near the fire waiting for a miracle to somehow happen.

I looked up at Elliot and I saw he had tears in his eyes. As I continued reading aloud, even my eyes began to water up.

With all the shivering and crying, I fell unconscious and passed out over the next few days. Thankfully I did, the serenity of not being able to think is what kept me alive. That is until I woke with the sight of a man covered with his hood. I screamed at him frightened with all the trauma that affected me at the very sight of him. Imagine you waking up to the sight of a hooded man with a bunch of dogs. You can barely distinguish his face because your eyes are still unadjusted to the light around you. It’s scary as hell. The man just picked me up and put me into his dog sled. I couldn’t do anything because most of my bones were either broken or just giving me excruciating pain. I kept my eyes pierced on the where I was going, and I kept thinking to myself, “where the fuck is this guy taking me?” My anger rose but I was helpless.

The man took me through a city which I was totally unfamiliar with. As far as I knew, the only city, in Canada’s territories, was Iqaluit. He stopped at a cabin outside the city and carried me into his home. At that very moment, I realized that my kidnapper was an old dark skinned man with a white beard sorta like the black version Gandalf and I felt a little bit more comfortable, but still in a lot of pain. He came close to me inspecting my wounds and shattered bones. He spoke with a low tone voice, startling me a little, “Can you hear me alright?” I nodded slightly and he smiled. “Hey, don’t worry you’re gonna be alright son.” Not giving me any information on who he was, I trusted him blindly.

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Ok so this is just the beginning of my story. If you think I should continue it. Let me know in the comments below! Thanks for reading.