When I Wake

When I wake, I see nothing but white in front of me. Maybe this is heaven.

Then I remember I am in the plane, a lumbering C-47 outfitted with jump seats, now sawed in half. I am in the living half and the dead half is nose-deep in a pressure ridge of ice.

Earlier, when Sam boarded, he took the last seat in the back. “This is the safest place on the plane,” he said. I laughed and picked a seat farther up, midway through the body. With only us as passengers, the plane seemed cavernous. I was just along for the ride, although I planned to get an article published out of it. The Air Force had hired Sam to take photos. We were reenacting a 1952 flight by the USAF, the first to land on the North Pole. Had we been flying south instead of north, we would have been in the cockpit, the dead half. The lighting wasn’t right, Sam had said. The light saved us.

I’m still thinking this might be heaven, except for the cold. I remember this cold. It nearly killed me twice.

I hear Sam crawling up the aisle. He unhooks my belt. “We have to get warm,” I say. The metal floor is hot from friction where the belly of the plane skated across the ice but it won’t stay that way. We crawl to the back and find compartments with an emergency supply chest and wool army blankets.

We wrap the blankets around our shoulders and huddle. “We need more. Probably four layers of clothes,” I say.

“The pilots?” he asks. I nod, yes. We crawl to the serrated edge of the world and see in the pale light that the cockpit is perpendicular to our half, four feet off the ground. The wind and snow howl into the dead half, whistle loudly through torn steel.

“I can’t remember their names,” I say.

“I can’t either.”

“We have to look for gloves and coats, first. You lift me in there and I’ll look on the floor. They probably took their coats off before sitting down.”

“Let’s go.” We wrap our arms, our blankets around each other and shuffle to the cockpit.

Sam lifts me onto the edge. Gloves. Find gloves. I can’t look. I have to look. Oh, god. Pilot’s head. I keep these thoughts private. I mute fear. I find two jackets wedged between the co-pilot’s seat and the side of the plane. I throw them to Sam. “Check the pockets.”

“Yes, gloves in both,” he says.

I find a scarf, a hat. The wind throws me backward and I land upon sheared metal. Blood spatters onto Sam and the ice. I wrench my right calf free and jump. I am screaming now.

“We have to stop the bleeding, Amelia. You’ll freeze.”

“Tourniquet. I don’t care about my fucking leg.”

I’m far away now. Everything is still white. Is this heaven? It feels like morphine. I slide in and out of consciousness, like doors opening and closing.

“You survived this before. We can survive this, right?” I hear Sam talking to me. It is true. I have been to the North Pole twice before – once with success and the loss of two toes, and once with failure, reversing course when the sled had overturned and one of the dogs received a crushing leg wound. This time was supposed to be easy. This time, we weren’t even going to touch the earth. All we had to do was take photographs.

I can’t move; having been here before, I know how the ocean swallows everything. I fear the shifting land that is not land. This frozen life raft.

Sam shakes me. “Say something, Amelia.”

My name is fraught with danger. I say, “Never get in a plane with a woman named Amelia.”

 

* * * *

I’m awake. “Light the flares,” I say. “But away from the plane. We don’t know if there is gas leaking.”

In May, the sun is still low in the sky as the polar cap tips its balding head. At any moment a blizzard could storm. “Watch out for gray ice,” I say.

While Sam lights flares, I create survival checkboxes in my head: only one person should sleep at a time; stay together to keep warm; eat; drink; turn clothes inside out to remove condensation; cut off your frostbitten digits, if you must; be brave. Be brave.

I think the tourniquet is working. I breathe deep and slow. Sam returns and I see worry in his eyes. Be brave.

“Whenever my dad came home from a trip, he would say, ‘Cheated death again.’”

Sam laughs. “Mine said, ‘Oh, fuck. You’re all still here.’”

We hold onto each other. If life is going to end, let it end like this, in the company of my friend.

Sam, who is braver than I am, says this aloud.

 

* * * *

 

These are the last days of the ice shelf. We all know it. The channels of ocean wedge wider each day and become impossible to cross. Landing a plane is even dodgier. Be brave.

The hours pass. The waters rise. I hear helicopter blades and feel Sam let go. From up here, the coastline of Ellesmere Island resembles the cross-section of a human brain with its cauliflower shapes. When the Arctic dies, this will be the site of the autopsy. In this frozen hour, we study the dementia.


 

This was written for round 3 of NYC Midnight’s flash fiction contest. Sadly, it didn’t get me into the final round. The prompts:  a tourniquet, the North Pole, action/adventure genre.

25 Comments When I Wake

  1. Arden Ruth November 21, 2015 at 12:00 am

    Love this, Meg! Especially that final section. Well done.

    Reply
    1. MegMeg November 21, 2015 at 12:12 am

      Thanks, sweetie. The comments I got back from NYCM weren’t awful. That made me feel better. Appreciate the read and the comment! Now I want to read yours!

      Reply
      1. Arden Ruth November 21, 2015 at 12:14 am

        Good! Yeah, my feedback was really helpful actually. It was more in depth than the first round and pointed out a lot of issues I think I can fix with my writing overall so I’m considering that a win 🙂 I posted my first challenge story this week! Thanks for sharing. I really enjoyed it!

        Reply
  2. Silverleaf November 21, 2015 at 12:27 am

    This is just…AMAZING, my friend. I read it twice. Breathtaking. Poetic. I love the descriptions, the way you communicate the delicate fragility of life – human life and the Arctic’s, which is really the planet’s. And I agree with Arden, that final section was something extra-special. Also, this, “as the polar cap tips its balding head.” I love that description.

    Reply
    1. MegMeg November 21, 2015 at 12:39 am

      Silver! Thank you so much. Rowan helped me a lot on this, making it much more than it was. Really happy you liked it. <3

      Reply
      1. Silverleaf November 28, 2015 at 2:38 am

        While I’m familiar with the extent of Rowan’s amazing powers, do not underestimate yourself my dear! I’m sure it already was very, very wonderful just because of you and your stunning talent. xoxo

        Reply
  3. Jennifer G. Knoblock November 21, 2015 at 12:58 pm

    First of all, I think you are super-brave to participate in this contest. Probably what I like most about this (I’m taking your poetic tone for granted nowadays) is how you’ve played with the theme of line–between life/death, reality/unreality, water/land, the physical break of the plane, etc.

    Reply
    1. MegMeg December 2, 2015 at 7:12 pm

      I never notice these things in my writing until someone points them out, which goes to show you how unintentional I am about things. Hah. Thanks so much for this, Jennifer. Means more than you know.

      Reply
  4. Laissez Faire November 21, 2015 at 2:31 pm

    My favorite line was…”Never get in a plane with a woman named Amelia”

    Reply
    1. MegMeg December 2, 2015 at 7:12 pm

      Hah! Thanks for reading and commenting!

      Reply
  5. Marcy November 21, 2015 at 2:53 pm

    I was instantly drawn into your frightening setting and loved the ending image.

    Reply
    1. MegMeg December 2, 2015 at 7:13 pm

      I’m so glad, Marcy. Thanks a bunch for stopping by.

      Reply
  6. Beeray November 22, 2015 at 3:17 am

    It’s so beautiful I don’t know what else to add or say but I will say it again, I love it

    Reply
    1. MegMeg December 2, 2015 at 7:13 pm

      Thank you!

      Reply
  7. Kay November 23, 2015 at 2:20 am

    I really enjoyed the vignette of a person’s life in crisis and how you tied it into a grand crisis everyone is a part of today. Beautiful story and message!

    Reply
    1. MegMeg December 2, 2015 at 7:14 pm

      Thank you, Kay. Appreciate your reading and commenting.

      Reply
  8. Stephen Thom November 23, 2015 at 6:14 am

    ooft this was very absorbing! Good work. I thought the early part stood out, I liked the visceral word choice ramping up the situation and atmosphere, lots of ‘howl’ and ‘friction’ and ‘sawed’, ‘sheared’ etc. think someone else has pointed out the awesomeness of ‘the sun is still low in the sky as the polar cap tips its balding head’ but i’ll surf that high water mark too 🙂 sweet writing, as ever, hope you’re well!

    Reply
    1. MegMeg December 2, 2015 at 7:17 pm

      Always, always happy to see your comment, Stephen. I’m glad you liked this. It was a bit out of my comfort zone and I probably could have added 500 words. Thanks so much for stopping by.

      Reply
  9. Phil November 27, 2015 at 6:14 pm

    Really like how you inhabit the physical space you created. I’m still shivering.

    Reply
    1. MegMeg December 2, 2015 at 7:20 pm

      Thanks a bunch for reading, Phil. Glad it made you shiver!

      Reply
  10. longeyesamurai November 28, 2015 at 10:55 pm

    Love it. it’s poignant and you can feel their emotions.

    Reply
    1. MegMeg December 2, 2015 at 7:22 pm

      Thanks for your kind words!

      Reply
  11. applegiuice November 29, 2015 at 4:35 pm

    Hey I like your post … this pic is amazing… I hope to show you something similar on my Italian blog in a while i f you want we could follow each others 🙂 Ciao!

    Reply
    1. MegMeg December 2, 2015 at 7:23 pm

      Thanks so much. The pic is a public domain image that I manipulated with photo editing. Appreciate the comment!

      Reply

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