"BORROWED TIME". (1.0)

BY: MAURICIO ESCOBAR

1.0        RELOCATION

Martin’s heart started pounding rapidly as the piston squeezed the last drop of the colorless liquid under his skin. When he pulled the needle out a red dot popped out through the tiny orifice. Martin closed his eyes. That was the fourth dose. He was already feeling the shaky tremors, the weakness and the sweat. His throat was dry and he was finding hard to swallow. Clumsily, he managed to put the needle into his pocket. The metallic mirror reflected a blurry and distorted image of him. Indeed, the effect of the drug was kicking in. Martin looked around and noticed everything else was getting blurry as well. He had to find the force to stay conscious and return to his seat or there was just not going to be enough time. He managed to pull a few paper towers out of the dispenser with the one free hand. Martin wiped away all the humidity from his face and breathed in, trying to get a hold of himself.

When he opened the door the ground shook moderately and Martin almost lost the equilibrium. He wondered if the tremor was real or another side effect of the hypoglycemia. The seat belts on sign lit up accompanied with the usual ding. One of the flight attendants started walking towards him; he noticed the blur approaching and walked away.

-       Sir…? –said the stewardess.

-       I’m alright –replied Martin without turning around.

-       The Captain has just…

-       Yeah, yeah –said Martin.

-       …please return to your seat…

Martin walked with the eyes semi-closed. The same message given by the stewardess was being repeated on the loudspeakers by the pilots.

-       Sir? Are you alright?

Martin ignored her as he looked for his seat, a few rows ahead. The world was spinning around him. The airplane shook once again, slightly.

-       Sir?

-       Yes, I’m OK!

Martin felt the collapse was imminent. As he was walking, he felt numb, weightless and immaterial. He looked down to make sure once more that the briefcase was still attached to his wrist. The stewardess approached him on his seat and she was still asking questions but he could not understand what she was saying anymore. He stopped at one of the empty seats and just dropped himself down, hugging the portfolio with both hands.

-       Oh, my God, sir! –exclaimed the stewardess. –Sir? Do you…? Sir?

The pilots were announcing something about turbulence and a storm on the loudspeakers. Martin was loosing consciousness rapidly. Thoughts from within were collapsing into a spiraling nonsense and the weakness was taking over. He had perfectly realized that things were not going right.

He opened his eyes briefly.

-       Sir? Sir? –continued the stewardess. It was a gray unrecognizable figure. –Sir, you need to put on your safety belt! Sir, can you hear--?

A blasting sound whipped through the airship and in a blink the blurry figure disappeared out of his sight. Martin could hear the chorus of moans coming from terrified passengers in the back section, reduced by the abrupt roaring of the engines. The baggage compartments vomited objects that flew as rockets hitting people’s heads. Plastic masks dropped from above hissing air with a sound resembling that of a serpent. A violent current of air pushed Martin’s head forward with the force of a fist. Passengers jumped from their seats and flew over his head and rolled on the floor along with dozens of objects, as the airship started inclining in an impossible angle and the high-pitch whistle of the turbines continued in crescendo until it was unbearable: the clear indicator of depressurization. The sound of shattered glass and metal straining followed. The airplane was collapsing. The lights on the whole corridor blinked on and off and on again to finally extinguish gradually until total darkness filled the scene. Momentarily, the lightning from storm outside shed grisly cascades of whitish blue inside. The intangible sensation of the inevitable spread through the ship faster than the electricity outside. The chaos within was animated by both the stroboscopic light from the storm and the fearful melody of terrorized screams as the descent became inevitable.

Martin hoped for the end to be quick and pushed the briefcase to his chest harder than before, as hard as his weak arms allowed him.

But then…

TO BE CONTINUED...