“What’s going on?” a young female voice questions, leading you to turn your
head and stare at the young woman that has been seated next to you for
most of this flight.
“I’m…not sure.” You respond, sitting up a little and turning your head to your
right, towards the aisle, watching as several of the flight attendants that had
been going around and getting people drinks, head to the back or the front to
sit down. You don’t have much time to wonder what is going on because the
next thing you know, the plane is plummeting towards the ground and Judy,
the young, pregnant woman sitting next to you grabs your arm, immediately
panicking, just like everybody else.
When the plane crashed, it was like…it was like this indescribable feeling.
You weren’t sure what you felt, or what you wanted to feel. There was a
big part of you that wanted to scream and get lost in the fact that every single
part of your body was in so much pain, but the stronger part of you – the
doctor part of you wants to try and save as many people as you can.
In a plane crash, there is no stronger half and weaker half. There’s just
you, in a lot of pain. This wasn’t you crashing a bike into a tree, or some
small boo boo that you could fix – this was a lot of pain that you didn’t
think you would be able to fight through. There was you, feeling as though
your ribs were about to puncture a lung, there was you feeling like you’d
definitely broken a few ribs. There was the fact that your head was spinning,
your ears were ringing, and your vision was blurry. There was the fact that
you had deep cuts along your face and other various parts of your body, and
then there was the blood. The blood felt warm and sticky, yet there was that
brief moment of cold rush that one gets right after a paper cut. It was a weird,
indescribable sensation, that cold feeling of the blood. There was blood…in
your hair? Or was it on another part of your body. In this moment, you were
a civilian who had just been in a plane crash.
Your attempts to stand up prove to be useless and finally you lean to your
left, placing both hands on the dirt ground, using your upper body strength
to move towards other people. A loud roar of pain escapes your lips and
although you want to let the pain take over, you try your best not to. The
tears pool in your eyes and slowly descend your cheeks as you inhale as
best you can, telling yourself to focus on other people’s pain – that, you could
do. You were a surgeon, a doctor…you could try and help people.
In this moment, your only hope is that you and all the other survivors will be
found soon. The other survivors tell you that there is hope, but you know
better. You’re a doctor, and a realist – you know that you’re in the middle of the
woods, and that the chances of anybody finding all of you anytime soon are
very low. You don’t have the chance to lose hope because it isn’t long before you
pass out due to all of your injuries. The last thing you remember is Judy holding her
newborn baby in her arms, begging you to take him.
A Montgomery is never weak.
A Montgomery turns her head the other way.
You are a Montgomery and you have always been a rather proud person. You
have your pride, your dignity, your reputation, and – you don’t want to be seen
as weak, especially not in front of all these other people, not when you are the
double board certified surgeon, the one who could continue to help save as
many people as you can.
You didn’t turn your head the other way.
You allowed the pain to take over.
Bizzy would be disappointed in you.
You feel fragments of the now destroyed wine glass digging into the palm
of your hand and you feel relieved every time you come to, because feeling
that pain is the only thing that is keeping you from passing out completely or
worse – dying. You curl your fingers into a fist, squeezing tightly to allow the
glass to dig deeper into the palm of your hand. As you do so, your chest rises
and falls, tears streaming from your eyes as you stare up into the sky,
vision blurred.
“I can’t do this anymore. It hurts too badly.” You hear, and honestly at this point,
you’ve lost track of how much time has passed. You don’t know what time it is,
or what day is, or how to respond.
When you finally think of a response, everything is dark. You keep drifting in and
out of consciousness, and you can’t feel any of your injuries – you feel completely
numb and for once, it feels so good. Is this what death feels like? Numbness? You
come to not too long after having felt the numbness. “If I…” you begin and pause.
When you come to some time later, you don’t feel cold, and you still feel numb – you
hear voices, but you’re not sure what’s going on. You just know that when you turn
your head, you find Judy near you.
“If I die, nobody’s really gonna c a r e. They’ll care, but they won’t be b r o k e n.” You
begin slowly, pausing to take a few short breaths. “If you die, people will. They’ll care.
They’ll be…broken up. You have… to…” You begin, before drifting into unconsciousness
yet again.
By the time Derek noticed the plane heading towards the ground -- it was already beginning to be to late. He was asleep, asleep, when he noticed the passengers get frantic and the flight attendants rush to sit in their own assigned seats and the masks come down from the top of the plane. Shock radiated from him and honestly, who could blame him? At this point in time, he wasn’t a DOCTOR, he wasn’t the man who saved COUNTLESS lives, no -- he was a person, a person going through something TRAUMATIC.
He could feel the plane falling faster,
faster,
and faster.
Derek put on the mask in front of him, breathing heavier than usual. There was a slight jolt and then there was wind coming into the plane where wind should never be coming from -- the back of the plane. Most of the people on the plane were very spread out, after all it was just supposed to be the average small trip from L.A. to Seattle... It wasn’t supposed to be like THIS. Somehow, throughout all his shock, one of his first instincts were to check out the other people on the trip and how they were doing. Most were doing how you’d expect them to be doing -- panicking, others seemed to have passed out ( probably from panicking too much ).
And then the plane hit the ground.
The first time he woke up, he noticed one thing -- pain. Pain that came from everywhere; his legs, his arms, his torso, his head. Every breath felt worse than the last, they just kept getting heavier and heavier. It was easy for him to be convinced he was DYING, and at that point it was easy for him to become sad about it too. About his wife, his kids, his friends, his family. All the people he was never able to say goodbye too. Before he could think too much about it, he passed out again.
What felt like not too long later, he woke up again. This time he felt blood. There was blood coming his chest, his head and definitely -- wait, he can’t even feel his hand. It was like his right hand had gone and vanished, but that couldn’t be the case -- no. There wasn’t enough blood or PAIN coming from there for it to just be gone. ‘But what if it was?’, he couldn’t stop thinking about his hand. Without a hand, how could he be a surgeon? How could he hold hands with his child and his wife? He couldn’t. Quickly and easily this time, he felt as the drowsiness set in.
It was dark now, meaning it had to be past eight. He was supposed to home already, somebody would’ve had to notice by now... Somebody had to be looking for him. Derek felt pain as he sat up from his uncomfortable position on the ground filled with twigs and dirt. It was then that he noticed the only thing that surrounded him was wreckage from the airplane. Part of him wanted to pass out again, but another part of him was convinced that he had to keep going. He decided to do the smart thing and just keep on moving -- using the pain as a motivator to keep on going.
Derek moved his legs, as painful as it was, he kept going, until he was pulled back to the ground. He looked for whatever it was keeping him strapped to the ground -- and that was when he noticed. He noticed his hand was stuck in what looked to be the side of the airplane they were in. Of course, the first move he made was the first one any sensible person would have made, pull it out. When that didn’t work, he panicked for a second before seeing a rock to the side of him. This was never his first choice, but he had to see if there were others, if there were others that needed help. So, he grabbed the rock, turned away and hit his hand with all of his strength. A loud scream of pain came out of him as Derek hit his hand in order for it to be released. He was able to feel every bone crack and the ability to take his hand out of the wreckage one hit at a time.
After just a few hits, his hand was free. Although it definitely wasn’t as bad as he first thought it would be -- adrenaline. This time as he stood up, he made sure to put all of his weight onto his left hand as a support to stand up and began walking aimlessly throughout the woods. Soon enough, he was able to hear voices in the near distance. Voices of people in pain, voices of people he could help.
There were four bodies spread out on the ground; two didn’t seem to be breathing, one was a pregnant lady who seemed to be panicking and last was a red head who was talking to the pregnant one. Within a few seconds though, he realized exactly who that person was -- it was his ex-wife, Addison.
He rushed to her side as he noticed her pass out. He checked for injuries and saw quite a few throughout her entire body -- there was nothing he could do without a first aid kit. He moved to be near the pregnant lady, beginning by asking her the simple questions.
“I’m Derek, I’m a doctor. What’s your name?” He asked her, hoping to calm her down.
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