Sven’s
jaw clenched as the plane began to rock against the wind; he hated flights. He
glanced around the cabin and was surprised that no one had taken any notice of
the turbulence. They’re all the same;
they all have the same beliefs: “it won’t be me, I can’t die,” he thought bitterly.
He hated the arrogance of anyone who wasn’t immortal and he found it ironic
that his immortality was the only way he had learned not to take day-to-day
life for granted. He reigned in his emotions; after all, the plane wasn’t
headed for disaster yet.
Sven struggled to refocus his
attention on the tall, thin blonde who was sleeping serenely next to him. He forced himself to picture his future with
Jacie in an attempt to relieve his ever-growing fear. If he was lucky, he’d have
ten years of a moderately normal and happy marriage before she started noticing
the way his hair didn’t turn gray or the way the small wrinkles that would
appear beside her eyes didn’t show on him. After the good years, there would be
one year of bad. Sven would spend his time thinking of ways to make Jacie hate
him, so that it was easier for her to move on when he abandoned her. At first,
this life was hard for him but he had grown accustomed to it with time.
The
plane swayed again and Sven felt his stomach drop when the seat belt light
flickered on. He hurriedly shook Jacie awake and helped her buckle herself into
the seat. Jacie laced her fingers through Sven’s and he smiled at her in a
false form of reassurance. After years of outliving of others, Sven knew the
look of dread that was etched onto the flight attendants faces. Sven wasn’t
worried about the impending crash for himself, but he could almost taste the
fear that was dripping from Jacie. Her face had gone white by the time the captain’s
voice broke the eerie silence to issue the crash landing warning.
Sven
had been beside many people that he loved as they succumbed to an illness; but
he always found sudden death the worse. He couldn’t help but wonder if Jacie
was thinking of him in her final moments, or if her last thoughts had taken her
back to her childhood with her family; or maybe to her first high school love. Sven
tried not to look at his wife; for some reason the last time he saw her would
be the only time he would remember and he refused to forever be scarred with
the look frozen on Jacie’s face as she died.
“I’ll
hold your hand the entire time,” he whispered. Jacie didn’t look up at him and
he was grateful; instead, she squeezed her fingers around his in
acknowledgement. It was the very least he could do; he wasn’t going to die with
her and she could wait forever by heavens gates, he would never appear. By now,
Sven was used to being the sole survivor and devastation plagued him.
The
plane slammed into the rocky hillside and left a long, straight scar on the
land. Sven had held Jacie’s hand as her life was crushed from her and he had
looked away just as the light left her eyes. He crawled from the wreckage and
took in the scene; he sat down next to the rubbish and listened intently for
muffled screams. There weren’t any, and if he had really asked himself he knew
he would have had to admit that there would be none. Sven didn’t cry over Jacie
as he disappeared into the forest. Even with a life of immortality there wasn’t
time for grief; after all, he’d be pronounced dead within the next 48 hours. He
had to build an entire new life.
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