Crash Land: Day 51

Finn touched the back of his scalp and his hand came away red. His eyes were full of tears

Amy hesitated then got up and ran to the cabin door but they were already moving too fast, the grass outside a blur. Lenny got a hand free and punched Finn in the face. Finn tasted blood and spat at Lenny, who shrank back and wiped his eyes. Finn threw a fist into Lenny’s guts, the bones in his hand screaming. Lenny doubled over and looked confused, first at Finn then down at his stomach.

Finn looked at his hand and saw blood on the metal splint running along the outside of his knuckle.

He punched Lenny in the face with his other hand. He got up to kick him but felt a crack on the back of his skull and stumbled forward.

He turned and saw the pilot still in his seat. He was in his 40s, messy beard and a biker jacket, and he was clutching a wrench in his fist.

Finn touched the back of his scalp and his hand came away red. His eyes were full of tears and sparks of light.

He lunged at the pilot and grabbed the wrench. The pilot was trying to pull the controls up. Out the cockpit window the sea was approaching fast, they were running out of grass before they’d plunge into the water.

Finn sank his teeth into the pilot’s hand and grabbed the wrench, then turned and saw Lenny staggering towards him.

Lopsided

Behind him, Amy was bracing herself against the roof of the cabin as the plane bumped across the field. Finn swung the wrench at Lenny’s face and caught him square on the jaw, the bone collapsing as his head jerked sideways and he fell to his knees.

Finn swung the wrench again and landed it on the side of Lenny’s head above the ear, blood spraying out the wound, the skin splitting to show pink bone underneath.

The plane lurched sideways as the pilot hauled at the controls and lifted the nose a few feet off the ground, but it was lopsided, the right wing higher than the left. Finn fell into the co-pilot’s seat. Lenny slumped to the floor, clutching the side of his head. Amy stood over him, staring at the grey swells of the North Sea 50 yards away.

“Strap in,” Finn shouted, nodding at the seats behind her.

She staggered backward and scrambled to click the seatbelt around her waist.

Finn did the same thing in the co-pilot’s seat, fumbling with the belt as the loose set of controls in front of him jerked around, the pitch and yaw of them mirroring the pilot’s moves.

The roar of the engine and the landing gear was joined by successive bangs as the cabin door flapped and slammed against the body of the plane.

The pilot gave the controls a final wrench to take the plane off the ground. There were 20 yards of grass left sloping down to a thin rocky shore, two sheep scuttling to the side petrified by the noise, the wheels still rattling on the ground, the nose dipping for a second so that they were aiming straight for the rocks.

Then they pitched up to the horizon, wavered for a moment then climbed higher, the wheels lifting off the grass just as it ran out under them, the engine whining as they took to the air.

The right wing rolled upwards until they were at 45 degrees to the horizon, Finn slung over in his seat, the controls battering his knees as they span and twisted, the pilot swearing in a foreign language as he grappled with the stick.

Panic

The plane made a sickening upwards lurch, then another stagger to the left and down, turning too sharply back towards Lamb Holm.

They thrust forward along the coastline, still at a terrible angle to the ground, the wings rolling one way then the other, then yawing to the left so that they rushed past the Italian Chapel, the rocks of the beach underneath, then a flip back and they were pitching nose first towards the Churchill Barrier.

Finn heard a noise with the last lurch and looked round. Lenny’s body was flipped over, 10 yards behind Amy, lying like a discarded toy.

Amy’s hands were on the armrests, eyes wide, neck muscles straining.

The pilot had deep furrows in his brow, panic in his eyes. The plane took a shrug upwards, a dying effort, then pitched left and down, flipping almost upside down as the pilot fought with the controls.

Finn was aware of the sea at the edge of his vision, then there was an almighty crash and he realised their left wing had hit the water, flipping the plane.

A sickening thump and jolt as the fuselage hit the water and the cockpit window shattered, Finn raising his arms to cover his face, broken glass on his skin, a chunk of something battering his shoulder as he was thrown forward by the deceleration, then the shock of the icy water pouring over him as he struggled to breathe.

The plane was sinking fast. The shock of the cold hammered Finn’s lungs. The pilot was gone, Finn couldn’t see where.

He unbuckled his belt, turned and saw Amy slumped in her seat, eyes closed, head to the side.

He staggered over as the water in the cabin rose to his knees, then up to his waist in no time.

He fumbled at the release on her belt under the water, his hands numb.

He released the catch and grabbed under her arms, dragged her into the cockpit, the water already at his chest, then with his arms locked around her he pushed out the empty cockpit window frame, water surrounding him.

Surprised

He got outside and found his feet touching the nose of the plane. He kicked against it, coldness tight in his body, the weight of Amy pushing down on him, the force of the water trying to crush him.

He kicked towards the surface, grey all around, seaweed clutching his legs in the murk.

He broke the surface with a gasp, heaving in breath, coughing up water and blood, salt in his mouth. Amy was still limp.

He looked round, treading water. Lamb Holm was 200 yards to his left. The barrier was the same distance in front of him.

He looked behind and saw an orange buoy, the kind they use to mark lobster pots, only 30 yards away. He was no great swimmer, he could do 200 yards in a calm, heated pool, but not here.

He headed for the buoy though it felt counterintuitive, swimming away from land. He kicked and paddled on his back, Amy across his chest, the cold seeping into his bones.

He kept pushing and was surprised that after a few minutes he was at the buoy. He threw one arm around the rough plastic and heaved Amy’s weight closer to him with the other.

More tomorrow.