SHORT STORY

Expect The Unexpected

When I find myself in times of trouble something always comes to me

I stared over the lip of the volcano. The venting gases and Earth tremors were not supposed to be happening.

I knew the volcano was technically active but it hadn’t erupted for over a century. There was no prediction of upcoming seismic activity. It was why I was here, taking the opportunity to say I’d been to an ‘active’ volcano. And to look cool on Instagram selfies.

The first ball of red steaming lava shot high into the air like a rushing firework. The gust of burning air on my face disabused me of any notion this volcano was dormant. Time appeared to freeze; it was as if I had entered a different universe and time flow.

The ground moved and wobbled beneath my feet. From my alternative universe, I considered my imminent demise for a second or two and how I was about to end up like the residents of Pompeii.

I decided it would be prudent to leave the sanctity of my new universe and make a run for it.

I ran and headed for the slopes to safety, a sanctuary that was several miles away in this real universe. The ground shook and moved; the roar of erupting lava soared.

There was no way I was going to make it.

A whooping sound battered my eardrums. I pushed my hands over my ears as I ran. A fireball landed a few yards away and I diverted from the path.

A massive shadow fell over and around me as fireballs crashed on the ground like red-hot hailstones. I looked up at the source of the whooping shadow. A giant military double rotor helicopter hovered.

A winch cradle lowered towards me from its belly. The cradle hit the ground a few feet away. A crew member wearing a large black helmet, and royal blue boiler suit with NAVY written on one chest, ushered me towards him. I ran to him and he pulled me in. I fell against the base of the cradle.

The heat from the ground and the airwave behind made me turn to look. White-hot molten lava oozed over the volcano rim, yards away. Huge plumes of ash cloud rose up like the aftermath of a giant bomb blast.

The cradle jerked and headed towards the aircraft’s belly. The helmeted airman held onto the cable. We reached the open door and he jumped in and pulled me inside. He threw me into a hard seat facing the back of two pilots and strapped me in.

The airman who had rescued me raised his black plexiglass face visor and put his mouth to my ear. “You were lucky we happened to be training near the volcano edge.”

The aircraft nose lifted and my head jerked back as we accelerated away and up from the spewing volcano. The two pilots touched controls and chatted inaudibly, checking behind them as we flew on. The intense noise reverberated in my body as if someone was using my chest as a bass drum. The aircraft buffeted and rocked and lurched alarmingly.

Thick voluminous dust clouds flew past the craft’s windows. It was like a black foggy night. I watched the ash dust enter the helicopter’s motors and they spluttered.

The engines were going to get choked and we would fall from the sky.

I looked out and up at the white nimbus clouds above. At that moment they changed direction and sped up. The wind had shifted and increased in speed. It blew the ash away for an instant: enough time for the craft to pick up speed. We burst away from the dense volcanic cloud and into the light.

The pilots were in constant motion, pulling levers and adjusting controls. One pointed a black-gloved finger ahead through the windscreen which was now peppered with splodges of thick rain. Two wiper blades worked in counterpoise clearing the glass. I sat up to follow the pilot’s finger.

Below us, I saw a long straight concrete airstrip with dark military planes and helicopters parked to the sides. The sky beyond was inky black. The pilot hadn’t been pointing at the airstrip but at an enormous funnel twisting from ground to sky. It spun in a slow spiral: it was the reason for the sudden change and speed of the wind.

The tornado touched the end of the runway and moved along it consuming everything in its path. Buildings and aircraft were eaten up and tossed aside.

The helicopter swerved hard at right angles and my head lurched with it. To my left, I saw the tornado swirling inexorably closer, wide and menacing. To my right, the dust cloud from the volcano headed to us like an enveloping curtain closing in on us.

We were going to be squeezed in the mouth of Mother Nature’s gigantic vice.

The pilot pushed the control lever forward to its max; the engines strained and roared with metallic grinding. We flew over the coastline and out to the open ocean. The far edge of the giant twister came into view as the chopper buffeted and rocked in the sky. The sky lightened, the sun brightened through thinning clouds and the rain petered out. The windscreen wiper blades stopped their flapping.

I twisted to my right and we’d left the blossoms of grey volcanic ash clouds behind. We’d made it.

A series of heavy thuds rocked the helicopter. The windscreen became obscured in a mass of blood and feathers. The engines sputtered, choked and stopped. There was an eerie silence broken only by the rush of the wind.

The aircraft nose dipped and the speeding rush of wind increased as we fell towards the rapidly approaching sea.

“Brace,” the young airman’s mouth was at my ear. “We’ve hit a flock of seagulls. Going down.”

We were crashing into the sea out of control.

I leant into the brace position in my seat. The bottom of the helicopter hit the water with a battering splash. The impact threw me forward into the seat belt and ripped into my shoulders with a sharp jag of agony. The sliding door on one side flew open and seawater surged in like a mini tsunami.

I hit the seat belt release. It was jammed. The craft bobbed in the sea for a moment then began sinking slowly under the water rushing in. The two pilots were out cold, slumped forward in their seats. The airman who had rescued me floated unconscious in the seawater. Water gushed in and around us.

I grabbed at the seat belt again. I gasped in panic. The belt was stuck fast as water rose over my knees. In seconds it was over my crotch. I pulled in desperation at my jammed seat belt.

Freezing water splashed against the prone airman. He shook his head, stood thigh deep. Without thinking, he dived over the surging wave through the open door and out into the sea.

One of the pilots sat up, cold seawater lapping around his waist. He hit his belt release. It snapped open and flicked away like an elastic band. He leaned across to his colleague, clicked his belt open and pulled him out of the seat. He slid open the pilot side door and dragged himself and his unconscious colleague out into the sea.

The helicopter tilted and the nose went up and the back went down. A wall of water rose a couple of feet behind my back. I watched helplessly through the windows at the three airmen bobbed together in the gentle sea and away from the sinking helicopter. The young airman said something to his colleagues. He turned and swam towards me, arms and legs flapping wildly. He was coming back to rescue me again.

The aircraft tilted further and I lost sight of my prospective rescuer as the craft slid down into the ocean. I gulped in a massive intake of air before the cold seawater engulfed me and I was plunged into a distorted watery world.

I punched the seat buckle with my fist: it would not give. I was going to drown.

The pressure of the water pushed hard against my complaining eardrums. I sank further into the sea. Items floated around me like weightless objects on a space station: notebooks, pencils, goggles, a knife. A knife.

I reached out and wrapped a hand around it, grabbing the blade and cutting open my palm. The craft sank further while I took the knife and manoeuvred the handle into my other hand. Lines of blood flowed away like a red river delta.

My eyes bulged and my chest burnt with desperation to breathe. I hacked at the belt with the large blade. It sliced away and I shot free. I didn’t know how far we’d sunk but I couldn’t see myself making it to the surface. I guessed I had been holding my breath for a couple of minutes already.

I was at my limit, I could hold my breath no longer. This craft was to be my water-filled metal coffin.

I was dizzy and blackness swooned in my mind. I flapped towards the open door and through the sea of objects floating around me.

My lungs burned, my throat closed, this was the end. There was no way I could make it to the surface in time. I was about to drown.

I pulled a floating tunic from my path; a diver’s mask and oxygen tank floated by the door like a dead squid. I grabbed the mask and pushed it to my face, the rubber sucked into my cheeks. I breathed in and nothing came into my expended lungs.

Blackness fell over me. I lifted the oxygen tank in desperation and spotted a small black plastic wheel. I twisted it as I swooned in and out of consciousness. A rush of cool refreshing oxygen surged into my desperate lungs, quenching the fire in them.

I gorged on the air for several moments like drinking in the best champagne from a bucket. My senses returned. I was still sinking inside my potential coffin.

I swam out of the door leaving the stricken helicopter behind me. I rose to the surface kicking my feet and trailing the oxygen tank in one hand. The light grew as I moved towards the surface, a flickering sun and a diffused sky beckoned me to safety. I broke the waterline as if bursting through a film of custard skin. I dropped the face mask and tank and laid back in the water breathing fast and heavy. My heart thumped like a war drum.

I calmed and looked around for the airmen. They were not there. No one for miles. I heard a regular thump-thump from somewhere in the distance. A military helicopter was heading away towards the land. The airmen’s colleagues must have picked them up and assumed I’d drowned.

I kicked my legs to tread water, they were heavy as if they had lead weights attached. It’s not every day you outrun a volcanic eruption, evade a tornado, survive an air crash and escape drowning from a sinking helicopter.

I kicked my leaden legs to prevent my shoulders from dipping below the water. Tiredness swept across my eyes, I wanted to close them and sleep. Heaviness thumped in my body.

I couldn’t kick or swipe my arms for much longer, they ached and hurt, my muscles were giving up.

I floated amongst the debris of the crash expecting to sink back below the surface as my body gave up. A panel with NAVY on it bobbed by my head. I leant on it but it was not large enough to sustain my weight and sank below the surface. I paddled towards a black seat cushion. It was not large enough either and sank under me too. I was too tired to continue.

I was going to sink beneath the waves and follow the helicopter to a watery tomb.

Something orange floated a few yards ahead of me. I summoned something from my reserves and flapped towards. I tugged at the orange float with my fingertips and my last dregs of energy. I caught a dangling cord with almost my last gossamer breath of movement.

The orange material instantly unfolded with a huge woosh. It inflated into a small circular life raft with a tent. It must have fallen from the crashed helicopter.

I held onto the rimmed edge of the raft. From somewhere deep inside, I pulled myself onto the raft. I lay gasping and recovering on the plastic floor of my saviour. I crawled into the tent, my clothes and hair dripping around me.

Tucked into a holster in the wall of the tent was a flare pistol. I pulled it out and pointed the black gun through the open door flap and into the air. I pressed on the trigger and a flare streaked into the sky. It exploded hundreds of yards above and lit up the daytime sky with a wonderful bright orange glow.

I laid my head back down and waited for my rescue. The top of the raft blinked — a rescue beacon was emitting a signal. In a while, I would be rescued. All I had to do was wait; all would be good.

The waves flapped against the edge of the raft like gentle handclaps; the only sound around me. The sky was clear, the sun glowed warm but not too hot. A soft cooling breeze whispered around my face.

I gazed wistfully across the peaceful expanse of water. My muscles ached and my hand was sore and bleeding from the knife blade. I dangled my cut hand in the saltwater to soothe it. A trail of thin blood rivulets drifted and bobbed away. I was safe and alive. I watched the streaks of blood float away from me.

A triangular black fin cut straight through the stream of blood like a hunting knife.

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