Feeling somewhat comforted that someone was on the case looking for Vicky, Dorothea ran back to Bill. She stammered, trying to comfort him, “Don’t worry Bill, help is on the way. That man said to wait here. I love you I love you.” Bill was delirious. He doesn’t respond. Agony. Moans. Dorothea couldn’t be sure that he heard her. He hears me, she tells herself. He must.
Bill laid on the tarmac in a stupor. Overcoming his injuries, he murmured “Dottie.” It was unclear if Bill knew whether she washy his side or not.
“I’m here, honey! Just lie still. A man came by. Help is on the way.”
Relief came over Dot. He’s alive! But nonetheless, Bill’s wounds were clearly very severe. His head and face seemed to be intact. So, too, did his chest look undamaged.
Thank god, thought Dot. His heart and brain are okay. She tried to reassure herself. There’s a chance for him.
Beyond the head and heart, however, Bill was in a grave state. His entire left side seemed to be mangled. Bones were clearly broken, blood was everywhere. It was as if an entire house landed on him, neatly squashing him, in an almost cartoon-like manner, down his entire left side, from the shoulder to the groin. The difference between the left and right sides of his body couldn’t be more stark. Dorothea thought of a half filled balloon, and dread returned to her.
As Dot continued her attempts to aid bill, another man - one she does not recognize appeared at her side.
The man appears unhurt by the crash. He is tall - well over six feet. Medium build, somewhat rugged looking. His sandy hair nearly perfectly matched the beige safari vest he’s wearing over a crisp white dress shirt and khaki slacks of a slightly lighter shade than his vest. He did not, Dorothea mused dazedly, wear a safari hat. He looked as if he should.
The man began speaking to Dorothea: “I see you. I see you. I am here. My name is Ralph” he pronounced his name in the British manner, rhyming with “safe.” His voice, too, was English. Upper class. Posh accent. “Ralph Haskins. You are?”
“Dottie,” she stammered. “Dorothea. And this is my husband Bill. Can you help him? No. No. Listen. Mister. My baby. My baby. Vicky.”
“Jubo has told me. Jubo is looking for your child.” It was clear that Ralph does not hold out much hope for the success of this mission, but he endeavored to put it in the best light. “If your baby is alive, Jubo will find… er… Vicky. But listen to me: you must come with me. You must come now. Someone will come for Bill. The medics are on their way. But you must come with me. We need to get you with the others. We need to perform the vows. There are so many of you.”
Dorothea didn’t quite understand what Ralph meant. She felt manic, and not wanting to leave Bill cried, “I can’t leave Bill!”
“We will find him again. I need to get you to the others.” He paused. It was clear Ralph was trying to rationalize the imperative. “We need to account for all the… survivors. We need to get you to the gathering point. And we need to get you away from the wreckage,” he added, not altogether convincingly.
As Dorothea gathered up a storm of protest, the stocky man in the blue polo shirt could be seen running towards her, Ralph and Bill. He had two medics in tow. He pointed at Bill, shouting, holding his grey hat on his head, which he had, miraculously, not lost.
The trio of men arrived at Bill’s side. The medics carried a lightweight stretcher. They set down the stretcher and, coordinating their efforts, slowly lifted Bill onto it. The man in the blue polo attempted to soothe Bill. “Stay still, sir. We’re here, we’re here. We have you. You’re going to be all right.”
Dorothea watched the events and tried to speak to Bill. “Bill! Honey! These men are going to take care of you! Thank god.”
She turned to the man in the blue polo. “Sir! Sir! My baby! My baby! I think she’s still in the plane!”
The man ignored her, focusing his attention on Bill. “Okay, have you got him? Good? Good. Let’s go.” The trio began to withdraw from the scene, the two medics carrying Bill in a gurney.
“Okay, see, Mrs… Dorothea.” Ralph plead. “Your husband is being cared for. We need to go. We need to go now. Come with me, please. I must insist.”
Through the noise of the blaze, Ralph and Dot heard a strange whistling sound in the air. It was crystal clear, even over the roar of the nearby 747 fire. Ralph immediately looked shaken. All reserve drained from his face. “My god.” he said. “There is another.”
Ralph himself then brought his hands to his face and performed another variant of the strange, robotic whistle. He Waited. Ralph heard what Dorothy now realized is an answer. He turned to Dorothea. “I have to go. There is another plane. I have sent for someone. Stay here. Follow that person to safety when they get here. Please, Madam. Stay here.”
Dorothea ignored Ralph’s dictum, and began to follow the trio with Bill. Ralph marshaled his most commanding voice. “LISTEN TO ME” he said. “Dorothea. Someone will come for him. We need to take you somewhere else.” He motioned to Bill. “You will be able to find him later. You cannot help him right now. Someone is coming for you, and they are coming for him. You need to follow the person I have sent for. The only one who will see you. Do you understand?”
Dorothea of course didn’t understand. “But what about my baby! My baby! Vicky!”
“Jubo is looking for her,” he again reassured Dot. “Dorothea. I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”
Everything told Dorothea to say no. This man was separating her from her husband. This man was hindering her from finding her child. Every fiber of Dorothea’s being told her to rush into the blaze. But the futility of the endeavor dawned on her. Part of her knew that Vicky couldn’t have escaped the wreckage, and couldn’t have survived the blaze.
She did her best to collect herself. “Go. But I am following Bill. I ain’t staying here.”
Ralph nodded. “All right. Yes. I will find you there. Or Jubo will - the Spanish gentlemen you met earlier. We will find you there, okay?”
Dorothea nodded. “All right then. Till then.” He turned and flew off into the fog.
Thus Dorothea ran towards Bill, the man in grey and the medics. They’d made it about 20 yards since they left her. She could easily close the distance.
Greetings from NYC. This is a scheduled post. I am probably still asleep. Those poor suckers who only read this on Facebook might never get this, or at the very least, they’re gonna get it late. Today we have a drone mix for you. Very into this Chinese experimental band Re-TROS who did the end credits music to that Three-Body show I’m watching. Plus a classic Spacemen 3 cut. Oh and that awesome nutso droney Phosphorescent song. Came on during one of my Walmart runs this weekend. So good. Pronbably time I learn abotu Muele they are great.
Until tomorrow!
OOH—is this shaping up to be sci-fi or magic realism?! something uncanny/supernatural seems to be afoot!