24 Hours Earlier
We were getting ever closer to impact and the plane was tumbling down to the ground. From a far, it would have been a staggering sight to see, with a plane throttling towards the ground and about to shatter into pieces. Only one man could behold the events on the inside though. Myself.
Searching amongst the cruelly murdered passengers, frantically looking for a way of survival. I was hopeless. No parachutes and no means of survival resources showed how hopeless I really was. My mind couldn’t help but cross back to the note, still lying in the cockpit of the plane. The unknown Mr. Slater would almost certainly carry out his mission, to have me killed. I couldn’t resist the temptation and ended up trotting back to pick it up, slotting it into the inside pocket of my coat. The coat itself had nothing left inside except a small black box. Everything else had been taken, stripped from me. Except my clothes, at least they had the dignity to keep me dressed.
I pulled out the box, knowing I didn’t have it with me when I drifted off at Gatwick. It was only small, about the size of my hand and was rectangular. The problem was it was inaccessible, it was locked. I tried desperately to pull the lock off, using all my strength. It was of no use though, the lock stood firm. I tucked away the box back into my coat. Only time would tell if it would have a hand in my survival chances.
Slouching up against the walls now and shuddering as I looked towards the corpses, I realized how unaware I had been. I took a closer look at them, staring at face to face carefully. They were fake
. They were just wax models, however very life like at that. I spared a sigh of relief that there was still a possibility that the real passengers survived, what had happened to them though still remained to me a mystery. Out of frustration, not only for the whereabouts of the innocent people but for my fate too, I slammed my foot into one of the heads of the models. It was struck sweetly, with the head flinging off the body and hurling across the plane. That was when the key
tumbled out from the head of the wax model.
I scrambled over to the key as quick as I could, immediately coming to the conclusion that this would fit the black box I had found within my pocket. I grabbed the key, shoved it into the lock of the box and twisted. It wouldn’t open. I turned it the other way and the box opened. Peering inside, a parachute folded up, lay within.
With the parachute strapped on, I barged through the door of the aircraft, leaving behind the EasyJet plane which had brought such bad things upon me. Still unknowing of how the key, black box and of course the parachute had been on the plane, I leaped out of the plan, soaring through the sky. Whoever had planted the items into my possession clearly hadn’t been someone part of Mr. Slater’s plans. They were a friend, a helping hand and of oppose to the enemy. The enemy that had failed. Joshua Hull lived to see another day, his life had been rescued from the edge of death.