Fic: Primatech 815 - Ch. 1
Title: Primatech 815
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes (Crossover with Lost)
Characters: Ando, Bennet, Claire, Claude, Hiro, Isaac, Peter, Matt, Micah, Mohinder, Niki, Simone, Sylar (more to come)
Rating: R
Summary: A plane crash unites a group of strangers.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Lost.
Warnings: AU, Violence, Action/Adventure, Drug use, Het, Slash, Crossover/Fusion
Chapter 1
Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he gazed out the airplane's window. He couldn't see much. It was nothing by white fluffy clouds and clear blue sky as far as the eye could see. Yet that didn't stop his stomach from tying itself into a knot. It didn't stop the rocking of the cabin from unnerving him. It didn't stop his drink from feeling too damn weak. He wished the plane would just hurry up and land. He wanted nothing more than to safely arrive in Los Angeles and grab his connecting flight to New York. The sooner this ordeal was over, the better.
"Enjoying your drink?"
The young man flinched as he turned and looked over at the pretty young flight attendant standing over him, smiling warmly at his haggard state. He tried his best to flash her a polite smile as he sat up straighter in his seat, fixing his tie with one hand and grasping his drink with the other.
"It's fine," he assured her, although his answer didn't seem to please the woman.
"That wasn't a very strong answer," she joked, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief.
He chuckled nervously as he ran a hand through his hair. "Well... it's not a very strong drink."
The woman smiled as she glanced over her shoulder quickly before discretely handing him two small bottles of vodka. "Maybe this'll help."
Peter smiled as he took the offered bottles and placed them on his tray. "Thanks..." he paused awkwardly to glance down at her name tag "...Eden."
"Not a problem," she smiled, winking at him playfully before continuing to push her beverage cart down the isle.
He watched her for a moment longer before slipping one of the bottles into his suit pocket. Given the week he'd been having, Peter had a feeling he'd need it later on. He sighed as he cracked the seal on the other bottle, pouring its contents into his orange juice before sipping it lightly. The plane lurched roughly, causing a few drops to spill onto his cheeks. It was then that he decided it would be best to give up and just go to the bathroom and deal with his ailing stomach.
However, just as he started to move towards the isle, he was suddenly knocked back into his seat as the man sitting across the row from him unexpectedly sprang forward, bumping into him roughly. Peter glared at the man's retreating back as he headed towards the bathrooms.
"Sorry about him," a feminine voice said, catching Peter's attention. "He's... he's a bit of a nervous flier."
Peter turned towards the voice, ready to retort, but he quickly found his breath caught in his throat as he gazed into a pair of startling green eyes. His cheeks flushed as the tanned woman smiled apologetically at him. He suddenly felt very ashamed of himself for noticing how beautiful she was. He was in no position to be checking women out, especially when they were traveling with male companions.
"Yeah," he muttered nervously. "I guess he really had to go."
The young woman looked as if she were about to grant him a polite chuckle at his attempted at small talk, but the plane was suddenly hit by a particularly harsh bout of turbulence. The two quickly sat straighter in their respective seats, but Peter couldn't help noticing the way the young woman clutched fearfully at the arms of her chair. He suddenly couldn't help but feel contempt for the man she was traveling with. How could he leave her when she was obviously fearful of flying herself?
"Don't worry," he assured her. "It's just a little bit of turbulence. It's normal."
She laughed anxiously, her face growing pale with fear. "I... I guess I'm not a very good flier either."
Peter smiled, about to introduce himself to her, but he was suddenly cut off as one of the flight attendant's voice suddenly came on over the intercom.
"Attention passengers," the woman began, and Peter quickly realized that it was Eden who was speaking. "The pilot has turned on the 'Fasten Seatbelts' sign..."
"I'm Simone," the woman across from him quickly said. Peter knew right away that she was telling him this as a way to distract herself from their current situation.
"Peter," he returned, buckling his seatbelt as calmly as possible. The cabin shook once more and Peter could see from the corner of his eyes that Simone's fingers were quickly turning white from their tight grip on her armrest. "Don't worry Simone. I'll look after you until he comes back."
She turned to gaze at him, fear and comfort clashing in her bright green eyes. However, Peter didn't have time to melt at the sight or even turn away and blush as the cabin once again shook, only this time much rougher, as if some force were trying to pull it out of the sky. His heart must have stopped for a good minute as he felt his whole being start to drop from the sky before abruptly stopping. He heard the horrified gasps and cries of pain fill the air as many of his fellow passengers flew from their seats and crashed into the ceiling. An oxygen mask quickly appeared in front of him then while Peter scrambled to put it on as the screech of warning sirens being set off filled the air of the cabin. As he felt the plane abruptly drop out of the sky and towards the water below, Peter silently hoped that Simone would be alright.
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Peter gasped at the pain rapidly shooting from his back as he laid spread out on a surface that seemed too soft and far too moist. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the blinding sunlight, but when they did he was horrified to find that he was now lying in the middle of a jungle. There were tall stocks of bamboo surrounding him, birds chirping in the distance, and a far too loud buzzing in his ears.
As soon as his heart slowed down to a more reasonable pace, he began to test himself out. His fingers were curling, his toes were wiggling from within his dress shoes, and his arms and legs, although incredibly sore, did not seem to be broken. He patted down his chest, checking to make sure everything was alright and was startled to feel something hard greet his finger tips. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he found the bottle of vodka he had slipped in there, still in tack.
Slowly, the young man got up, surprised that his back did not seem to be broken, although there was a strong twinge at his side and a shooting pain running through his limbs. That didn't worry him, however. What did worry him was the fact that he was all alone.
The plane. The plane must have crashed. But where was it? Where were the others?
No longer worried about his own state, Peter scrambled to his feet before taking off in a mad dash towards the horizon. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he'd find someone eventually if he just kept running. His efforts were soon rewarded when the sound of fire crackling and people screaming began to fill his ears. The tree line was starting to thin, he could see a beach ahead of him. Pushing his way through the branches, Peter soon found himself marching on clean white sand. His heart pounded as he turned his head to his left and took in the horrifying scene playing out before his eyes.
There was the plane, or at least what was left of it, in a heap of smoke and twisted metal spread out across the beach. As far as he could see the nose and tail section of the plane were gone. Only the fuselage remained and it was currently ripped up with one wing stretched out into the sky and the other scattered across the beach. The engine was still in tack, spinning dangerously close to a few survivors and sucking up bits of debris. All along the shore line people were crawling around blindly, frantically calling out names, screaming for help, and generally getting in the way. It was then that his medical training kicked in and Peter felt himself once again sprinting towards the chaos.
The first man he came across was screaming for help as he tried to lift a piece of landing gear off of his legs. Peter was at his side in an instant, trying his best to lift the piece of metal off of the poor man's body, but it wouldn't budge. He looked across the beach, trying to find someone who wasn't badly injured to help him, before his eyes finally landed on an Indian man about his height and build.
"Hey!" he screamed towards him. "Hey you! Come help me lift this!"
The other man nodded mutely as he rushed over to his side, grasping the opposite end of the landing gear. Another man came running towards them, seeing what they were trying to do and moved to grab the pinned man's arms.
"On three," Peter began, "you lift and you pull. 1... 2... 3!"
As soon as he said the final number, the two men did as he had directed and freed the injured man, revealing a mess of blood and ripped skin. He grimaced at the sight, crouching down next to the wounded man and carefully studied his damaged leg. The bone was broken and needed to be set. Ripping off a piece of the man's pants, he grabbed his bloodied appendage and snapped it back into place before wrapping the shredded cloth around the harmed leg. He would have stayed and helped move him, but the frightened scream of a young woman suddenly caught his ears.
"Get him out of here," Peter screamed over his shoulder as he sprinted across the beach. "And get everyone away from that engine!"
The Indian man nodded as he and the other man began lifting the man's limp body away from the flames and shouted at everyone within ear shot to stay clear of the still spinning engine.
Unfortunately, there was one man who didn't seem to heed their warning in time, and within the blink of an eye, was sucked into the plane's engine, causing it to burst into flames and sending shards of metal flying across the beach. The ground beneath him shook and Peter had to fight to stay on his feet.
Peter watched as the man who'd bumped into him earlier wandered around the beach in a daze, causing Peter's mind to flash to Simone. His train of thought was interrupted as he bumped shoulders with an Asian man in business attire who ran past him, frantically screaming something. Peter felt himself trip and land face first on the sand. He quickly gathered himself and looked up, only to find a frightened young teenage girl trembling before him.
He scrambled to his feet and called to her. "Hey! Hey are you alright?"
"Y-yeah," she stuttered. "I'm... I'm fine. J-just-"
"What's your name?" he cut her off, glancing over her and seeing no serious injuries, just a few scratches and a bruise here and there.
"Claire," she told him, her voice quivering and small.
"Claire," he repeated, doing his best to keep her focused on him. "Every thing's going to be okay. Just get away from the engine and go find someone you came with."
"N-no. I'm alone."
Peter felt his heart clench at the girl's words. He wanted nothing more than to stay with her, to protect her and tell her everything would be okay, but he had to push those thoughts away. There were other people, seriously injured people, who needed his help right now. "Well, then wait for me. I promise I'll come look for you."
He heard Claire start to protest, but his eyes suddenly landed on a terrifying sight. Across the beach he saw Simone, lying still on her back as a heavy set man pumped her chest, attempting to give her CPR, but doing it improperly. He sprinted towards them, feeling a strong pang of guilt for leaving Claire so suddenly.
"What's wrong with her?" he asked the man tending to Simone once he was within earshot of him.
"She's not breathing," the other man said suddenly.
"Her head's not titled back far enough," he told him. "You're blowing air into her stomach." He tilted Simone's head backwards in order to adequately fill her lungs with air.
"Really?" the man beside him asked sheepishly. Clearly he didn't really remember his CPR training.
"Yeah," Peter said quickly as he began to pump her chest roughly. "I'm a nurse, I know."
He bent down, pressing his lips firmly over Simone's and began to blow, trying not to think about how this could be the closest thing to a kiss he'd ever give her. After a few more pumps, Simone soon jerked back to life, coughing and trembling as her body struggled to breath. Peter wanted to smile at her, say something witty and romantic, but his eyes were drawn to the plane's wing, which was currently twisting and creaking in the wind. It looked as if it were going to come crashing down any second now.
That's when he noticed that Claire, still looking frightened and lost, was standing right under neath the wing. His heart beat hammered in his chest as he raced towards her, arms flailing and voice straining. She turned to look at him, her eyes wide with confusion, but he didn't give her a chance to say anything as he grabbed her small arm in his hands and began to drag her away. They couldn't have gotten more than a yard away before the wing came crashing down to the sand, throwing them in the air and across the beach.
His head was buzzing, the ground was shaking, and sand had gotten into his nose and mouth, but he felt reassured just by hearing Claire's shaky breath beside him.
"I am never flying Primatech Airlines again!" the girl gasped as she scrambled back onto her feet.
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"How old are you Claire?" Peter asked, winching as he felt the sowing needle pierce the torn skin of his back.
Peter glanced over his shoulder and saw Claire's skin turn several shades whiter as she carefully sowed together his injury. He couldn't help but envy her. The plane had been ripped apart in mid-air, crashed on an island in the middle of nowhere and the girl barely had a scratch on her.
"S-sixteen," she told him nervously. It was more than obvious from the look on her face that she was clearly disgusted by her task.
"Sixteen?" he repeated curiously. A small part of him felt guilty for asking someone so young to do this for him, but he was injured and she knew how to sow. The best thing he could do now was keep the teenager's mind away from what she was doing. Otherwise, she might pass out or throw up on him. "And you traveled all the way to Australia by yourself?"
"Y-yeah."
"What were you doing in Sydney?"
The blond girl paused awkwardly as she tied off the thread. "I... I was looking for something."
Peter nodded thoughtfully, knowing that "something" really meant "someone," and Claire obviously didn't want to talk about it.
"I guess we're all pretty lucky," Claire comment as she packed away the small sowing kit that Peter had found in someone's luggage. "Besides surviving a plane crash, we actually have a doctor with us."
Peter laughed, shaking his head wearily. It still amused him that so many people looked at him and thought "doctor." "Actually, I'm a nurse. Peter Petrelli."
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Mohinder felt his stomach tighten nervously as he walked through the group of survivors. He had counted them, over and over again in his head, remembering to include himself, the nurse who had busied himself jumping from injured person to person, and the teenager girl who was always at his elbow. There were forty six of them in total. All of the survivors seemed to have gathered together, forming tight knit groups and taking turns comforting one another.
A heavy set man had enlisted a dazed young man with wavy brown hair and his brown skinned girlfriend to assist him in building a signal fire on the beach. Two Asian men sat near the ocean, whispering to each other in their native tongue. A woman and her young son were wandering through the group of survivors, trying to find a spot to sit by themselves. A lone figure had wandered as far away from the group as possible and sat by himself.
Everyone was settling into their own little world.
He sighed, gazing at the sky and noticing how quickly the sun was sinking on the horizon. Forty six just seemed too few. They were missing and Mohinder didn't know whether to think they were dead or alive. He felt his fingers ball themselves into tight fists as he shook the thought out of his head. No, Audrey couldn't be dead. She was too strong and too brave to die like this. The other one...
His train of thought was interrupt when he suddenly caught a glimpse of the young nurse crouching over a woman with short blonder hair and a line of freckles spread across her nose. She looked so small and so weak as the nurse carefully wrapped her head with a bandage.
Mohinder felt his heart beat quicken as his legs carried him over to the make shift tent that the nurse and the teenager had quickly assembled in order to protect their "patient."
"Is she alright?" Mohinder asked once he was close enough for the brown haired man to hear him.
The nurse looked up at him, confusion clear in his wide eyes as he gently ran his fingers near a piece of shrapnel embedded into Audrey's stomach. Mohinder felt his whole body grow cold as Audrey moaned pathetically, taking shallow breaths while the young man probed her injury. The Indian man knew right away that if they did not get her to a hospital soon, Audrey would not make it.
"Do you know her?"
Mohinder's throat tightened at the question. If He was dead, then there was no need to tell anyone just who he and Audrey were and cause his fellow survivors to panic unnecessarily. Yet, and Mohinder felt it was far too likely, if He was still alive, they were all in grave danger.
"She... she was sitting next to me."
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Simone shuddered, wrapping the airplane blanket that Isaac had found for her tighter around her body. She could tell from the lucid look in his eyes, that he had already come down off his high. That should have comforted her. The fact that the two of them had managed to survive a plane crash without serious injury should have comforted her, but there were too many horrible thoughts floating through her mind to feel at ease.
She couldn't help but think about how she could have died, how she almost died, and was only sitting here huddled next to her artist boyfriend because the shy young man who had been sitting across from them on the plane just happened to be a nurse. She couldn't help but think about how instead of staying in his seat and holding her hand, her artist boyfriend had run into the bathroom to get a quick high. She couldn't help but think about how said artist boyfriend had been too high to even bother to find her after their plane had crashed and she had to be the one to look for him.
Simone sighed, rubbing at her small arms and wishing that she had worn a jacket on the plane. Night had fallen quickly and the temperature, which had felt unbearably hot during the day, and dropped significantly.
"It'll be okay, babe," Isaac whispered to her, wrapping a reassuring arm around her waist and pulling her closer.
"You think they would have come by now."
Simone flinched, turning to stare at the man who had asked them to help build the signal fire. He sat across from them, hunched over in defeat staring blankly into the fire blazing a few feet in front of them. They had managed to get it fairly big--something that a large craft would be sure to spot from the sea or the air--and many of the other people around them had went ahead and built their own fires to keep each other safe and warm.
"Who?" Isaac asked, tightening his grip on Simone.
The man sighed wearily, gazing over at them. "Anyone."
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"Are you sure you're warm enough?" Niki asked, running her slim fingers through Micah's tight black curls.
After the fires had died out, the survivors had managed to find a few supplies in the plane that they could use for the night. A blue tarp had been divided among each group, trays of food were handed out, and the pillows and blankets had been fought over. Niki had managed to get the most, Micah's presence being her constant motivation. He needed them. He needed to feel safe and comfortable, and she'd do anything she could to make sure he was just that.
Micah gave her a short nod as he curled into his make shift bed using her lap as a pillow. The boy hadn't said anything to her since the plane had taken off, yet after this experience, she couldn't really blame him.
She sighed as she continued the soothing gesture. Micah didn't need this. His father had just died, he had lost everything that he had ever known, and now they had to go through this horrible ordeal. She could only pray that the rescue boats came quickly. Her poor son didn't need to be trapped on this island.
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'Do you think they'll be alright?' Hiro asked, gazing worriedly at the mother and son sitting across from them. It was still taking a while for him to wrap his mind around what had just happened. One minute he had been reading comics and playfully teasing Ando and then the next thing he knew they were stuck on a strange beach.
He was lucky. They were all very lucky, but Hiro felt very fortunate because his glasses weren't broken. Once the turbulence had started, Hiro knew instantly that they were going to crash and for one horrible moment he had envisioned his lenses breaking and shooting into his eyes like a scene from a horror movie. He would have taken them off if Ando had not shooed his hands away from his face and forcefully placed the oxygen mask on him.
'Don't worry about them,' Ando chided, busying himself by drawing figures in the sand. 'We have to worry about each other. We'll stick together and watch out for each other. That way we will stay safe.'
'But what if someone needs help?' Hiro interjected. He knew right away that Ando was scared. He always got bossy when he was scared. 'A hero wouldn't ignore someone in need.'
Ando turned and gave him a weary look. Hiro knew that look very well. It was the look his best friend gave him whenever he brought up comic books in a situation Ando deemed "inappropriate." 'This is no time to be a hero,' he sighed, shaking his head wearily.
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"We must have hit an air pocket mid flight," Peter explained. "Dropped down maybe two hundred feet. The turbulence was... I blacked out."
Audrey was resting. Her was condition stable for now, but he knew that he couldn't really do much for her here. She needed a hospital and he could only pray that the rescue boats were on their way or would at least reach them by morning.
Claire sat next to him, hugging her knees to her chest as she listened intently to his words. She hadn't left his side all day, even as he tended to everyone's injuries. He felt a bit proud of her. She was handling herself fairly well considering the situation.
"I didn't," Claire announced suddenly. "I saw the whole thing. I knew the back section was gone, but I was too scared to look... and then the front of the plane ripped off."
Peter swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling extremely dry. That certainly was something no sixteen year old should have to witness. "Well, it's not here on the beach," he went on, wanting to change the subject and hopefully get the girl's mind away from the horrifying visual.
"I saw some smoke," Claire told him. "Coming from the valley... maybe a few miles in land."
He nodded thoughtfully at her words. "The plane most likely had a transceiver," he explained to her. "We could probably use it to send out a distress signal and help everyone get rescued. It'd most likely be in the cockpit."
"How do you know all that?"
"My brother was a pilot in the Navy," Peter explained, feeling his throat tightened at the mention of his older sibling. "Flying kinda became a hobby of his... He took me up in his plane a few times."
Claire nodded thoughtfully as she processed his words. "If you're thinking about going into the jungle to look for the cockpit, then I'm coming with you."
Peter shifted awkwardly at the girl's determined words. He knew right away he wasn't going to be able to convince her to stay behind. He was just about to agree with her declaration when something interrupted him.
A strange mechanical sound suddenly echoed through the jungle. The noise was like nothing he had ever heard and the volume was loud enough to grab the attention of everyone on the beach. They all jerked to their feet to stare in awe as a thundering boom came from the jungle as trees were knocked down and the ground shook.
Peter knew right then and there that they all had to get off of this island. Fast.
Next Chapter
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes (Crossover with Lost)
Characters: Ando, Bennet, Claire, Claude, Hiro, Isaac, Peter, Matt, Micah, Mohinder, Niki, Simone, Sylar (more to come)
Rating: R
Summary: A plane crash unites a group of strangers.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Lost.
Warnings: AU, Violence, Action/Adventure, Drug use, Het, Slash, Crossover/Fusion
Chapter 1
Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he gazed out the airplane's window. He couldn't see much. It was nothing by white fluffy clouds and clear blue sky as far as the eye could see. Yet that didn't stop his stomach from tying itself into a knot. It didn't stop the rocking of the cabin from unnerving him. It didn't stop his drink from feeling too damn weak. He wished the plane would just hurry up and land. He wanted nothing more than to safely arrive in Los Angeles and grab his connecting flight to New York. The sooner this ordeal was over, the better.
"Enjoying your drink?"
The young man flinched as he turned and looked over at the pretty young flight attendant standing over him, smiling warmly at his haggard state. He tried his best to flash her a polite smile as he sat up straighter in his seat, fixing his tie with one hand and grasping his drink with the other.
"It's fine," he assured her, although his answer didn't seem to please the woman.
"That wasn't a very strong answer," she joked, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief.
He chuckled nervously as he ran a hand through his hair. "Well... it's not a very strong drink."
The woman smiled as she glanced over her shoulder quickly before discretely handing him two small bottles of vodka. "Maybe this'll help."
Peter smiled as he took the offered bottles and placed them on his tray. "Thanks..." he paused awkwardly to glance down at her name tag "...Eden."
"Not a problem," she smiled, winking at him playfully before continuing to push her beverage cart down the isle.
He watched her for a moment longer before slipping one of the bottles into his suit pocket. Given the week he'd been having, Peter had a feeling he'd need it later on. He sighed as he cracked the seal on the other bottle, pouring its contents into his orange juice before sipping it lightly. The plane lurched roughly, causing a few drops to spill onto his cheeks. It was then that he decided it would be best to give up and just go to the bathroom and deal with his ailing stomach.
However, just as he started to move towards the isle, he was suddenly knocked back into his seat as the man sitting across the row from him unexpectedly sprang forward, bumping into him roughly. Peter glared at the man's retreating back as he headed towards the bathrooms.
"Sorry about him," a feminine voice said, catching Peter's attention. "He's... he's a bit of a nervous flier."
Peter turned towards the voice, ready to retort, but he quickly found his breath caught in his throat as he gazed into a pair of startling green eyes. His cheeks flushed as the tanned woman smiled apologetically at him. He suddenly felt very ashamed of himself for noticing how beautiful she was. He was in no position to be checking women out, especially when they were traveling with male companions.
"Yeah," he muttered nervously. "I guess he really had to go."
The young woman looked as if she were about to grant him a polite chuckle at his attempted at small talk, but the plane was suddenly hit by a particularly harsh bout of turbulence. The two quickly sat straighter in their respective seats, but Peter couldn't help noticing the way the young woman clutched fearfully at the arms of her chair. He suddenly couldn't help but feel contempt for the man she was traveling with. How could he leave her when she was obviously fearful of flying herself?
"Don't worry," he assured her. "It's just a little bit of turbulence. It's normal."
She laughed anxiously, her face growing pale with fear. "I... I guess I'm not a very good flier either."
Peter smiled, about to introduce himself to her, but he was suddenly cut off as one of the flight attendant's voice suddenly came on over the intercom.
"Attention passengers," the woman began, and Peter quickly realized that it was Eden who was speaking. "The pilot has turned on the 'Fasten Seatbelts' sign..."
"I'm Simone," the woman across from him quickly said. Peter knew right away that she was telling him this as a way to distract herself from their current situation.
"Peter," he returned, buckling his seatbelt as calmly as possible. The cabin shook once more and Peter could see from the corner of his eyes that Simone's fingers were quickly turning white from their tight grip on her armrest. "Don't worry Simone. I'll look after you until he comes back."
She turned to gaze at him, fear and comfort clashing in her bright green eyes. However, Peter didn't have time to melt at the sight or even turn away and blush as the cabin once again shook, only this time much rougher, as if some force were trying to pull it out of the sky. His heart must have stopped for a good minute as he felt his whole being start to drop from the sky before abruptly stopping. He heard the horrified gasps and cries of pain fill the air as many of his fellow passengers flew from their seats and crashed into the ceiling. An oxygen mask quickly appeared in front of him then while Peter scrambled to put it on as the screech of warning sirens being set off filled the air of the cabin. As he felt the plane abruptly drop out of the sky and towards the water below, Peter silently hoped that Simone would be alright.
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Peter gasped at the pain rapidly shooting from his back as he laid spread out on a surface that seemed too soft and far too moist. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the blinding sunlight, but when they did he was horrified to find that he was now lying in the middle of a jungle. There were tall stocks of bamboo surrounding him, birds chirping in the distance, and a far too loud buzzing in his ears.
As soon as his heart slowed down to a more reasonable pace, he began to test himself out. His fingers were curling, his toes were wiggling from within his dress shoes, and his arms and legs, although incredibly sore, did not seem to be broken. He patted down his chest, checking to make sure everything was alright and was startled to feel something hard greet his finger tips. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he found the bottle of vodka he had slipped in there, still in tack.
Slowly, the young man got up, surprised that his back did not seem to be broken, although there was a strong twinge at his side and a shooting pain running through his limbs. That didn't worry him, however. What did worry him was the fact that he was all alone.
The plane. The plane must have crashed. But where was it? Where were the others?
No longer worried about his own state, Peter scrambled to his feet before taking off in a mad dash towards the horizon. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he'd find someone eventually if he just kept running. His efforts were soon rewarded when the sound of fire crackling and people screaming began to fill his ears. The tree line was starting to thin, he could see a beach ahead of him. Pushing his way through the branches, Peter soon found himself marching on clean white sand. His heart pounded as he turned his head to his left and took in the horrifying scene playing out before his eyes.
There was the plane, or at least what was left of it, in a heap of smoke and twisted metal spread out across the beach. As far as he could see the nose and tail section of the plane were gone. Only the fuselage remained and it was currently ripped up with one wing stretched out into the sky and the other scattered across the beach. The engine was still in tack, spinning dangerously close to a few survivors and sucking up bits of debris. All along the shore line people were crawling around blindly, frantically calling out names, screaming for help, and generally getting in the way. It was then that his medical training kicked in and Peter felt himself once again sprinting towards the chaos.
The first man he came across was screaming for help as he tried to lift a piece of landing gear off of his legs. Peter was at his side in an instant, trying his best to lift the piece of metal off of the poor man's body, but it wouldn't budge. He looked across the beach, trying to find someone who wasn't badly injured to help him, before his eyes finally landed on an Indian man about his height and build.
"Hey!" he screamed towards him. "Hey you! Come help me lift this!"
The other man nodded mutely as he rushed over to his side, grasping the opposite end of the landing gear. Another man came running towards them, seeing what they were trying to do and moved to grab the pinned man's arms.
"On three," Peter began, "you lift and you pull. 1... 2... 3!"
As soon as he said the final number, the two men did as he had directed and freed the injured man, revealing a mess of blood and ripped skin. He grimaced at the sight, crouching down next to the wounded man and carefully studied his damaged leg. The bone was broken and needed to be set. Ripping off a piece of the man's pants, he grabbed his bloodied appendage and snapped it back into place before wrapping the shredded cloth around the harmed leg. He would have stayed and helped move him, but the frightened scream of a young woman suddenly caught his ears.
"Get him out of here," Peter screamed over his shoulder as he sprinted across the beach. "And get everyone away from that engine!"
The Indian man nodded as he and the other man began lifting the man's limp body away from the flames and shouted at everyone within ear shot to stay clear of the still spinning engine.
Unfortunately, there was one man who didn't seem to heed their warning in time, and within the blink of an eye, was sucked into the plane's engine, causing it to burst into flames and sending shards of metal flying across the beach. The ground beneath him shook and Peter had to fight to stay on his feet.
Peter watched as the man who'd bumped into him earlier wandered around the beach in a daze, causing Peter's mind to flash to Simone. His train of thought was interrupted as he bumped shoulders with an Asian man in business attire who ran past him, frantically screaming something. Peter felt himself trip and land face first on the sand. He quickly gathered himself and looked up, only to find a frightened young teenage girl trembling before him.
He scrambled to his feet and called to her. "Hey! Hey are you alright?"
"Y-yeah," she stuttered. "I'm... I'm fine. J-just-"
"What's your name?" he cut her off, glancing over her and seeing no serious injuries, just a few scratches and a bruise here and there.
"Claire," she told him, her voice quivering and small.
"Claire," he repeated, doing his best to keep her focused on him. "Every thing's going to be okay. Just get away from the engine and go find someone you came with."
"N-no. I'm alone."
Peter felt his heart clench at the girl's words. He wanted nothing more than to stay with her, to protect her and tell her everything would be okay, but he had to push those thoughts away. There were other people, seriously injured people, who needed his help right now. "Well, then wait for me. I promise I'll come look for you."
He heard Claire start to protest, but his eyes suddenly landed on a terrifying sight. Across the beach he saw Simone, lying still on her back as a heavy set man pumped her chest, attempting to give her CPR, but doing it improperly. He sprinted towards them, feeling a strong pang of guilt for leaving Claire so suddenly.
"What's wrong with her?" he asked the man tending to Simone once he was within earshot of him.
"She's not breathing," the other man said suddenly.
"Her head's not titled back far enough," he told him. "You're blowing air into her stomach." He tilted Simone's head backwards in order to adequately fill her lungs with air.
"Really?" the man beside him asked sheepishly. Clearly he didn't really remember his CPR training.
"Yeah," Peter said quickly as he began to pump her chest roughly. "I'm a nurse, I know."
He bent down, pressing his lips firmly over Simone's and began to blow, trying not to think about how this could be the closest thing to a kiss he'd ever give her. After a few more pumps, Simone soon jerked back to life, coughing and trembling as her body struggled to breath. Peter wanted to smile at her, say something witty and romantic, but his eyes were drawn to the plane's wing, which was currently twisting and creaking in the wind. It looked as if it were going to come crashing down any second now.
That's when he noticed that Claire, still looking frightened and lost, was standing right under neath the wing. His heart beat hammered in his chest as he raced towards her, arms flailing and voice straining. She turned to look at him, her eyes wide with confusion, but he didn't give her a chance to say anything as he grabbed her small arm in his hands and began to drag her away. They couldn't have gotten more than a yard away before the wing came crashing down to the sand, throwing them in the air and across the beach.
His head was buzzing, the ground was shaking, and sand had gotten into his nose and mouth, but he felt reassured just by hearing Claire's shaky breath beside him.
"I am never flying Primatech Airlines again!" the girl gasped as she scrambled back onto her feet.
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"How old are you Claire?" Peter asked, winching as he felt the sowing needle pierce the torn skin of his back.
Peter glanced over his shoulder and saw Claire's skin turn several shades whiter as she carefully sowed together his injury. He couldn't help but envy her. The plane had been ripped apart in mid-air, crashed on an island in the middle of nowhere and the girl barely had a scratch on her.
"S-sixteen," she told him nervously. It was more than obvious from the look on her face that she was clearly disgusted by her task.
"Sixteen?" he repeated curiously. A small part of him felt guilty for asking someone so young to do this for him, but he was injured and she knew how to sow. The best thing he could do now was keep the teenager's mind away from what she was doing. Otherwise, she might pass out or throw up on him. "And you traveled all the way to Australia by yourself?"
"Y-yeah."
"What were you doing in Sydney?"
The blond girl paused awkwardly as she tied off the thread. "I... I was looking for something."
Peter nodded thoughtfully, knowing that "something" really meant "someone," and Claire obviously didn't want to talk about it.
"I guess we're all pretty lucky," Claire comment as she packed away the small sowing kit that Peter had found in someone's luggage. "Besides surviving a plane crash, we actually have a doctor with us."
Peter laughed, shaking his head wearily. It still amused him that so many people looked at him and thought "doctor." "Actually, I'm a nurse. Peter Petrelli."
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Mohinder felt his stomach tighten nervously as he walked through the group of survivors. He had counted them, over and over again in his head, remembering to include himself, the nurse who had busied himself jumping from injured person to person, and the teenager girl who was always at his elbow. There were forty six of them in total. All of the survivors seemed to have gathered together, forming tight knit groups and taking turns comforting one another.
A heavy set man had enlisted a dazed young man with wavy brown hair and his brown skinned girlfriend to assist him in building a signal fire on the beach. Two Asian men sat near the ocean, whispering to each other in their native tongue. A woman and her young son were wandering through the group of survivors, trying to find a spot to sit by themselves. A lone figure had wandered as far away from the group as possible and sat by himself.
Everyone was settling into their own little world.
He sighed, gazing at the sky and noticing how quickly the sun was sinking on the horizon. Forty six just seemed too few. They were missing and Mohinder didn't know whether to think they were dead or alive. He felt his fingers ball themselves into tight fists as he shook the thought out of his head. No, Audrey couldn't be dead. She was too strong and too brave to die like this. The other one...
His train of thought was interrupt when he suddenly caught a glimpse of the young nurse crouching over a woman with short blonder hair and a line of freckles spread across her nose. She looked so small and so weak as the nurse carefully wrapped her head with a bandage.
Mohinder felt his heart beat quicken as his legs carried him over to the make shift tent that the nurse and the teenager had quickly assembled in order to protect their "patient."
"Is she alright?" Mohinder asked once he was close enough for the brown haired man to hear him.
The nurse looked up at him, confusion clear in his wide eyes as he gently ran his fingers near a piece of shrapnel embedded into Audrey's stomach. Mohinder felt his whole body grow cold as Audrey moaned pathetically, taking shallow breaths while the young man probed her injury. The Indian man knew right away that if they did not get her to a hospital soon, Audrey would not make it.
"Do you know her?"
Mohinder's throat tightened at the question. If He was dead, then there was no need to tell anyone just who he and Audrey were and cause his fellow survivors to panic unnecessarily. Yet, and Mohinder felt it was far too likely, if He was still alive, they were all in grave danger.
"She... she was sitting next to me."
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Simone shuddered, wrapping the airplane blanket that Isaac had found for her tighter around her body. She could tell from the lucid look in his eyes, that he had already come down off his high. That should have comforted her. The fact that the two of them had managed to survive a plane crash without serious injury should have comforted her, but there were too many horrible thoughts floating through her mind to feel at ease.
She couldn't help but think about how she could have died, how she almost died, and was only sitting here huddled next to her artist boyfriend because the shy young man who had been sitting across from them on the plane just happened to be a nurse. She couldn't help but think about how instead of staying in his seat and holding her hand, her artist boyfriend had run into the bathroom to get a quick high. She couldn't help but think about how said artist boyfriend had been too high to even bother to find her after their plane had crashed and she had to be the one to look for him.
Simone sighed, rubbing at her small arms and wishing that she had worn a jacket on the plane. Night had fallen quickly and the temperature, which had felt unbearably hot during the day, and dropped significantly.
"It'll be okay, babe," Isaac whispered to her, wrapping a reassuring arm around her waist and pulling her closer.
"You think they would have come by now."
Simone flinched, turning to stare at the man who had asked them to help build the signal fire. He sat across from them, hunched over in defeat staring blankly into the fire blazing a few feet in front of them. They had managed to get it fairly big--something that a large craft would be sure to spot from the sea or the air--and many of the other people around them had went ahead and built their own fires to keep each other safe and warm.
"Who?" Isaac asked, tightening his grip on Simone.
The man sighed wearily, gazing over at them. "Anyone."
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"Are you sure you're warm enough?" Niki asked, running her slim fingers through Micah's tight black curls.
After the fires had died out, the survivors had managed to find a few supplies in the plane that they could use for the night. A blue tarp had been divided among each group, trays of food were handed out, and the pillows and blankets had been fought over. Niki had managed to get the most, Micah's presence being her constant motivation. He needed them. He needed to feel safe and comfortable, and she'd do anything she could to make sure he was just that.
Micah gave her a short nod as he curled into his make shift bed using her lap as a pillow. The boy hadn't said anything to her since the plane had taken off, yet after this experience, she couldn't really blame him.
She sighed as she continued the soothing gesture. Micah didn't need this. His father had just died, he had lost everything that he had ever known, and now they had to go through this horrible ordeal. She could only pray that the rescue boats came quickly. Her poor son didn't need to be trapped on this island.
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'Do you think they'll be alright?' Hiro asked, gazing worriedly at the mother and son sitting across from them. It was still taking a while for him to wrap his mind around what had just happened. One minute he had been reading comics and playfully teasing Ando and then the next thing he knew they were stuck on a strange beach.
He was lucky. They were all very lucky, but Hiro felt very fortunate because his glasses weren't broken. Once the turbulence had started, Hiro knew instantly that they were going to crash and for one horrible moment he had envisioned his lenses breaking and shooting into his eyes like a scene from a horror movie. He would have taken them off if Ando had not shooed his hands away from his face and forcefully placed the oxygen mask on him.
'Don't worry about them,' Ando chided, busying himself by drawing figures in the sand. 'We have to worry about each other. We'll stick together and watch out for each other. That way we will stay safe.'
'But what if someone needs help?' Hiro interjected. He knew right away that Ando was scared. He always got bossy when he was scared. 'A hero wouldn't ignore someone in need.'
Ando turned and gave him a weary look. Hiro knew that look very well. It was the look his best friend gave him whenever he brought up comic books in a situation Ando deemed "inappropriate." 'This is no time to be a hero,' he sighed, shaking his head wearily.
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"We must have hit an air pocket mid flight," Peter explained. "Dropped down maybe two hundred feet. The turbulence was... I blacked out."
Audrey was resting. Her was condition stable for now, but he knew that he couldn't really do much for her here. She needed a hospital and he could only pray that the rescue boats were on their way or would at least reach them by morning.
Claire sat next to him, hugging her knees to her chest as she listened intently to his words. She hadn't left his side all day, even as he tended to everyone's injuries. He felt a bit proud of her. She was handling herself fairly well considering the situation.
"I didn't," Claire announced suddenly. "I saw the whole thing. I knew the back section was gone, but I was too scared to look... and then the front of the plane ripped off."
Peter swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling extremely dry. That certainly was something no sixteen year old should have to witness. "Well, it's not here on the beach," he went on, wanting to change the subject and hopefully get the girl's mind away from the horrifying visual.
"I saw some smoke," Claire told him. "Coming from the valley... maybe a few miles in land."
He nodded thoughtfully at her words. "The plane most likely had a transceiver," he explained to her. "We could probably use it to send out a distress signal and help everyone get rescued. It'd most likely be in the cockpit."
"How do you know all that?"
"My brother was a pilot in the Navy," Peter explained, feeling his throat tightened at the mention of his older sibling. "Flying kinda became a hobby of his... He took me up in his plane a few times."
Claire nodded thoughtfully as she processed his words. "If you're thinking about going into the jungle to look for the cockpit, then I'm coming with you."
Peter shifted awkwardly at the girl's determined words. He knew right away he wasn't going to be able to convince her to stay behind. He was just about to agree with her declaration when something interrupted him.
A strange mechanical sound suddenly echoed through the jungle. The noise was like nothing he had ever heard and the volume was loud enough to grab the attention of everyone on the beach. They all jerked to their feet to stare in awe as a thundering boom came from the jungle as trees were knocked down and the ground shook.
Peter knew right then and there that they all had to get off of this island. Fast.
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