That is exactly why I drive places, storms. Seriously, you can drive through a storm or pull over or go to a hotel… The pilot's voice interrupted my thoughts, "Ladies and gentlemen we are encountering a lightning storm. We are going to be landing at the next available airport. Be prepared for turbulence." Fantastic, I'm never flying again. I look at the tiny human who would not shut up and now he was not moving let alone talking. Johnny sat there wide-eyed and pale-faced. His hands were too small to cover the whole armrest, but his little fingers were outstretched so far they were completely white. "We're gonna be okay, you know that right?" I said. He did not respond, just a quick glance at me, then straight ahead. My eyes moved from him to his mother. She gave me an awkward smile but her eyes were the size of dinner plates. She was scared. I was scared. Johnny was petrified.
All of a sudden, we were jolted to the left. The wing was gone. We were going down. I was trying to remember everything I ever read or watched or been told about plane crashes, but all I could think was, "Damn I'm hungry." Think, think, think… My thoughts were interrupted once again by the pilot, "Brace yourselves!" The time to think was over; reaction was all that was left. My arm shot across the boy's chest. My father had done this to me many times throughout my childhood. I never understood why until this moment.
Impact.
Deep breath. Pain. No deep breaths. Open your eyes. Blurry vision. Ears ringing. Shake it off. Bad idea, don't shake it off. A little hand grabbed mine; I felt a heartbeat on my forearm. "I'm gonna get us out of here, okay?" Johnny just stared at me. Johnny's mother was slumped over in her seat. We both knew she was gone. I unbuckled my seatbelt and then his. I kneeled down and saw his red cape was stuck in between our chairs. I pulled it out and said, "Alright Superman, here's the deal you're gonna close your eyes and not open them until I say to." Johnny looked over to his mom one last time and nodded. I leaned over and picked up the little boy. The entire left side of the plane was gone along with the tail. The little boy's face was buried in my chest as I walked over people and things thrown out of place.
As we emerged from the wreckage, I began to scan the area for a place to set him down. I did not want him to see the trail of carnage left by the plane. I set him down with his back facing what was left of the plane. "Okay, open your eyes. I'm gonna go see if anyone needs help. Don't move" I said. I ran back to see if anyone else was alive. Person after person, no pulse, no breathing. I, Brock Preston Daniel, was one of two survivors. This was unreal. I slowly made my way back to Johnny, "How are you doing Superman?" I asked. He gave me this look like "what the hell just happened and how are we alive?" "I don't know" saying while I shook my head. I sat down next to him elbows on my knees trying to process what to do next. Johnny had a gash on his cheek and blood was dripping down from his jaw. I reached up to wipe some of the blood away but changed my mind so I did not hurt him. I looked at the ground next to the boy deciding whether or not I would be able to get back up at a later time. Based on the amount of pain in my gut, I decided against sitting.
We had crashed on some farmland somewhere. I started hearing sirens, but I did not see the lights yet. A truck had popped up from over the hill. As it pulled up a couple of guys jumped out. The first was an older man with gray hair and dirty as if he had been working. He looked like the farmer to the land we "landed" on. The second was younger, the older man's son I assume. He was skinny and also dirty wearing a ball cap. "Are you guys okay?" the older one asked, "Is there anyone else?" My eyes went from staring at the ground to his face, I shook my head. The younger man started describing what he had seen with hand motions to emphasize with enthusiasm. "That was so crazy. I saw it hit, and then flip end over end. The wing wasn't there when it hit. How does that happen? How are you still alive I mean…" The older man's head snapped over and interrupted the story with a glare. The adolescent's head dropped toward the ground and his hands shoved in his jeans pockets. "I'm real sorry" he mumbled.