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Thoughtfall
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1992-09-02
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4KB
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101 lines
@ THOUGHTFALL
# By Andrew Campbell 1994
One of Preston's guards opened the aircraft door. Despite his
strength, he lost grip, letting it swing outwards and hit the bodywork
with a huge, metallic crack.
"You gormless piece of shit!" Preston cried, poking the gun harder
into Steve's back. Screaming air blasted into the cabin, raking back
everyone's hair and causing them to squint. Sandy's captor found he
had to cling on to one of the seats to keep his balance.
"MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!" shouted Preston, shuffling Steve nearer to the
open doorway.
"Hey, no!" Steve yelled, his eyes huge with fear. "Please no!" And as
he was cold-bloodedly ignored, Sandy began to scream. Outside, below a
fragmented sea of bluish-grey clouds there awaited an eternal Amazon
landscape... a green, uncharted alien world. No water; land.
Solid, death-ensuring land.
"You can't!" Steve gasped, his feet skidding closer to thin air. "You
can't do this... please..."
"Walker!" Preston barked. "Help me throw him out! Don't just stand
there you fucking lazy bastard!"
Steve felt the grip of another hand on his shoulders. No longer was
his strength enough to delay the fate Preston had in store for him;
now he was going to die.
"NOOOOO!" Sandy roared, tears pouring down both cheeks. The guard -
still hanging on to the chair - punched her to a silence with one free
hand.
"Don't do this to Sandy," Steve pleaded, realising his imminent
death. All he could hope for now was the survival of his wife. Surely
they wouldn't throw her out of the plane, too. Surely...? "All I ask
is that you don't kill my wife like this-"
"Shut the fuck up," Preston hissed and gave Steve one final shove.
Steve felt the floor beneath his shoes scrape away, heard Sandy scream
again, saw the horizon tip and roll... then he was outside, tumbling,
holding his breath, freezing cold... listening to the thunder of his
own body cutting through the air...
# Sandy?
# Hmmm?
# I love you.
# Me too.
...thoughts spinning as fast as the world... clothes peeling, head
burning...
# Daddy? Can we go swimming today?
# Go on, Steve. Take her swimming. She needs to practice.
...green... white... green... white... a tiny black shape speeding
away in that whiteness... through the pain and confusion he knows it
is Sandy...
# Preston murdered me.
# I know, honey.
# Sandy?
# Hmmm?
# Can I have a warm cup of cocoa please?
...green... white... green... green, green, green, he manages to keep
control... the view of the jungle far below is blurry and dreamlike...
he watches it without breathing... slowly realizes that what he is
admiring will shortly take his life...
# Sandy will you sing me a nursery rhyme? I feel ill.
# London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down-
# Not that one. Another one.
# London Brige is falling-
# Please Sandy, ANOTHER!
# Don't SHOUT at me!
...now the view isn't so spectacular. It is horrible. Sickly. The
most terrifying thing he has ever seen... patterns, faces, shapes in
the trees...
# She see's faces in the carpet! She does!
# Your mum's weird, you know that Steve?
# No. She's not weird at all, Sandy. I understand her now...
...all of a sudden he believes everything he didn't used to believe.
Faces appear in the trees... his children, his parents... friends from
work... people he met on holiday... Preston... drugs... a gun... Sandy
screaming... a seat-belt fastening... the door of the plane opening
and then his falling body interpreted by the trees... the much closer,
closer trees...
# Sandy?
# Hmmm?
# I'm going to miss you.
# STEVE THE GROUND! THE GROUND IS COMING!
# I know, I know, I'm going to miss you-
# OH GOD OH JESUS STEVE PLEASE DON'T LET IT COME!! PLEASE DON'T LET-
# Sandy don't cry, please don't cry-
# STEVE NOOOO! NOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-
...cold, silent wind... crackling, snapping, wetness, darkness... a
momentary void of nothingness-
# STEEEE-
...then a whistle, a crack, pain... !!!PAIN!!! Something cold, hard,
bashing against his skin... an alien creature tearing away his
stomach... emptiness... !!!SUCH PAIN!!! A brief flickering image of
greenery, entangled branches, blood... the ground moaning beneath his
weight, spikes jabbing into his flesh... hands tightly holding his
ankles... his body, his arms, his head dangling... dripping... so cold
and wet...
Then the peaceful chirping of birds.
Alien birds.