aisles, and people scrambled for their seats.
“Ladies and gentleman we are experiencing severe turbulence. We ask that you fasten your seatbelts,” the captain said over the loud speaker.
The plane dropped and cries filled the air. Liandra clenched her jaw and gripped the armrests for dear life. Her knuckles ached in protest, and her heart thudded. They plummeted, headed straight down. The overhead bins gave way. Bags fell onto the grounds. Tremendous pressure formed behind her ears, and her chest constricted. Oxygen masks dropped from above.
She reached out, grabbed the circular cup, and struggled to put it over her face as she fought against the direction gravity wanted to twist her body. She inhaled deeply, flooding her brain with the life giving substance. Panic blurred the sharp edges of her vision, and mental clarity fled.
Her gaze darted around, taking in the stricken faces of her fellow passengers. This is where my story ends with no legacy behind me, and few to mourn. A thunderous boom sounded. Loose debris floated around the cabin. The plane began a wild death spiral. Disoriented, she saw the world in double. Pain detonated in her body as the plane connected with something solid. Her head hit the wall, and she knew no more.
Liandra opened her eyes and squinted at the light. A dull ache tapped a rhythm in her head and continued down her body. Fragments of memory rushed back. The plane crashed. She pushed up into a sitting position and cringed. Silence. No, that couldn’t be right. She reached up to touch her hearing aid, and found nothing but the cartilage of her ear. Sound burst from her vocal chords as she cried out. She could feel the vibrations, yet, her world remained stuck on mute. How can I be rescued if I can’t hear anything?
Fear gave her the slap on the face she needed. Focused, she took in her surroundings. White sand covered the ground beneath her feet. A canopy of tall, tropical, trees nearly blocked out the light above her. Ridiculous how idealistic this place appears, given the horror that lead us to be here. If there is an us.
She scanned the floor around her looking for the aids and came up empty. She hit her knees and sifted sand with her hands. After what felt like forever, she admitted defeat. They were gone, and if she wanted to find her way out of here, she needed to leave while she still had light. A twinge of pain brought her hand up to cover her ribs and she limped through the area, stepping over tree roots, and watching for signs of life. She proceeded forward, careful to keep a watchful eye on the brush for any sign of movement. The ground shook. She turned toward the vibrations and ran toward the source, desperate to hold on to what could be her only link to the plane and other survivors.
A heavy weight slammed into her. Iron bands held her tight. Dazed and breathless, she froze. Lifted, like she weighed nothing, she was placed onto her back. Confused, she tilted her head, and met the bluest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. Disheveled, dirt smudged, bleeding from various niches and cuts, the man’s angular face, and fast moving thin lips were a thing of pure beauty. She shook her head, cleared out the mental cobwebs, and shoved at his chest.
“I have a present for you.”
“That’s what you said earlier and look where that got me.” Jayce pointed to her naked body. Their little get together started a couple of years back. Harry was lonely and she needed to survive. He had even proposed marriage to her late one night saying he could provide her a good life. She quickly declined. Oh, sure she could have married him and became the little wife. Instead of dealing with a drunken mother, she’d be dealing with a man at least thirty years beyond her age. Hell no! The voice inside her head screamed. She had enough of people just getting what they could from her. It was time she took charge of what she wanted and she didn’t give a damn how long it took, just knowing she tried will be what counts in the end.
Harry laughed and his whole body jiggled. “I really do have something special for you this time.”
Jayce slipped into her jeans and watched as he reached for his dress pants. He pulled a padded envelope out of the back pocket and handed it to her. “What’s this?” Jayce asked as she took it from his hand. Usually money would be placed on the nightstand or somewhere else rather than handing it directly to her. She always thought maybe Harry felt it made it less dirty if he casually left the money for her and maybe in a way it did. She tried not to think about their bi-weekly visits too hard, it made her ill knowing that she had resorted to having sex for money.
“Your four hundred plus some extra as a present, but you have to make me a promise.”
Jayce opened the envelope and peeked inside. A stack of one hundred dollar bills flashed back at her. “Holy Shit. How much is in here?” She had never seen that much money at one time. The most she had on her right now was a thousand. Time she buried her mom, paid off all the debt they owed which included every bar tab around town, she was pretty much left penniless except for what she had been putting away a little at a time.
“Four thousand dollars,” Harry said as he started putting on his clothes. “You know if you’d marry me then you wouldn’t have to earn money like this.”
Jayce pulled the cowboy boots on her feet. “Harry, you’d still be paying me for sex, it would just be done differently. A couple hundred here for a new dress, a new car, money would still change hands, the only difference is I’d have on a ring.” Jayce wiggled her ring finger in the air as she sat on the edge of the tub. She was still naked on top and her small breasts rested comfortably in place. She pushed her long curls off her shoulders.
was left of the markets and gas. Today, however, was one of those
days he missed people.
Someone yelled. “Hang the bastard!”
And he went right back to hating people. Deon sighed, stood up to his full six foot two height and listened.
“I can’t fuck her, I’m gay!” A voice yelled back.
Well now, that got his attention. He shuffled inland toward the commotion. Big willow tress blocked his view of the sleepy little town. Once past them the scene unfolded and Deon was left speechless. There were nearly thirty people and each held a weapon of some kind. Most were blades on the end of long sticks but some had guns. They were all gathered around a gnarly old tree with no leaves and thick branches. Rope was thrown over one of those extended bark covered appendages. It circled the neck of a thin white guy, a cute one. His black hair was a matted mess and his blue eyes were wide with fear. From where Deon was he could see the guy had on no shirt and that damn rope bit into the sensitive skin at his neck.
“You will get an erection and knock her up.” A man in his forties with a bald head ordered. He was at the front of the mob.
Cutie took a deep breath. “Fine. Fine, I’ll do it, just get me down and I’ll...”
“You do her right now.” He pushed a girl forward, who was obviously underage and balling her eyes out.
Cutie swung his bound hand. “I’m not doing it right here!”
Deon listened to the argument, slipping closer to the fanatical group of survivors. The other man was talking again, bald and fucking crazy. He mumbled something to the girl and then ripped her shirt off.
Deon glanced at the exposed chest purely out of shock. He liked men.
She had small breasts with pink nipples and her hands rushed to cover
Deon moved closer. Apparently, Cutie was telling the truth. Deon was currently staring at all of him, as every inch of flesh was exposed. His cock was soft and flaccid against his thigh. It was bigger
than Deon would have guessed for such a white boy. Deon bet his dick would be a good eight inches when hard.
“There’s your proof!” The leader began to yell to the crowd.
“He cannot father children. He is useless to the human species and we shall only take what we must to save humanity.” He tugged the girl from the cutie with the noose around his neck. “Kill him for our very survival!” He drew out the last word like it was a sermon.
Deon heard enough and even if the guy didn’t have a cock he wanted to suck, he’d still save the poor bastard. Hanging was a sore subject. He’d read all about his ancestors and their slavery including
hanging. There was a shout, a plea and five shirtless men tugged the other end of the rope viciously. As much as Deon wanted to dwell on all those naked chests in one spot, Cutie was in trouble.
The stranger’s pale hands grabbed at the rope digging into his throat. Deon pulled the knife out of the black sheath on his belt. He held it eye length, aiming, breathing, concentrating and then threw it.
The blade whirled through the air and slit the thick rope. Most of it broke and uncoiled. A few frantic tugs from the man being hanged and it snapped. Cutie fell to the ground with a great big gasp.
He was then promptly shot.