tw: death, blood, injuries.

1989

Heather Chandler

At first, Heather couldn't hear anything except the ringing in her ears. She didn't know where she was or what had happened; she wasn't even sure if she was alive.

Slowly, Heather began to make sense of the situation, as the other elements around her allowed her to get her bearings. The plane had crashed, she remembered, but Heather was feeling her heart beating in her chest and the blood running in her ears, so that meant she had survived. Her head felt heavy, the vertigo on her head matching the one on her brain, and she was struggling to keep her eyes open, but she was alive.

"Get up, Heather!" Heather McNamara's frightened voice took Heather out of her stupor, awakening her like a dose of caffeine in the morning. Her friend was seated beside her, shaking her desperately. "We need to leave!"

"What -" Heather started to mumble but was interrupted by Mac dragging her out of her seat, her shaky legs making her stumble a bit. Heather turned her head to look behind her, to see what McNamara wanted her to run from and saw smoke coming out of the cockpit, smoke that within seconds turned into blazing fire. "Holy shit."

If the pilot was still in there, why the hell wasn't he doing anything? Heather wondered. She had a guess as to why, but she didn't want, and didn't have time to think about that.

(Trigger warning: mentions of dead bodies ⚠️)

Heather stared ahead at the dimly lit aisle, and only then did she notice the other passengers hurriedly getting out of their own seats. The ones still breathing, anyway. As Heather ran, she saw Willa Fox, one of the wingers, seated in her spot, unmoving like a doll, with her neck bent in a way that did not look comfortable at all.

Heather didn't want to, but her eyes linged on dead Willa. She had been there, chatting with Ainsley Tucker less than 10 minutes before, alive, now she was dead. Dead, dead, dead.

Not paying attention to where she was going made Heather trip and fall face-first on the carpeted floor of the plane. At first, she thought she had stumbled on her own feet, but as she lifted herself up, she realized she had fallen onto someone. She recognized the black and red cap with the mascot of their team on it, and the oversized shirt, it was Coach Ripper, who, unlike her, didn't get up from the floor.

"Fuck," she hissed, getting as far away from the dead body of her former coach as she could. She looked down to see that her hands and clothes were wet with blood, though she didn't know if it was hers or not.

(End of trigger warning)

"Open the fucking door!" someone said in the middle of the commotion; the strident voice undoubtedly belonged to Duke.

"Can't you see its stuck?" a male voice yelled back. It was Jason Dean, Veronica's little boy toy.

The plane was big, and it took a few seconds for Heather and Heather to arrive at the exit, where other people were trying desperately to push the door open; smoke burning her eyes made it hard for Heather to recognize everyone, but she did see a familiar mop of brown hair amid all of the chaos.

As terrified as she was, Heather felt a wave of relief at the sight of Veronica; at least she was ok, she was alive. But the smoke was starting to spread, and it was impossible to get to the other exit, so that was their only chance; if they didn't get the door to open, it wouldn't matter that they had survived the crash, they were going to die anyway.

The door felt like it weighed a tonne, but with so many of them forcing all their weight against it, in a desperate attempt to survive, the door began to budge.

The sunlight burned in Heather's face once she stepped outside. She took in a deep, shaky breath, inhaling the fresh air and coughing out the acrid smoke from her lungs. She just wanted to collapse on the ground; she had never felt so battered.

The aftermath of the crash looked like a warzone. Heather knew it had been bad, hell, she had never seen so many dead people before in her life, but only after she got out, and other people started doing the same, did she grasp how catastrophic the situation was.

There was nothing outside but the mortais hovering above them and trees, dozens and dozens of them stretching out for what seemed like miles. The heavy, grey smoke coming out of the fallen plane billowed into the cold morning air, mixing up with the cries of Heather's fellow acquaintances as they struggled to understand what had happened.

Heather leaned on the nearest tree to steady herself as she tried to take in the scene before her eyes.  Veronica was helping out JD, who had a big cut on his arm; Courtney was seated on the ground, Sophie O'Connor comforting her. Heather did a quick mental check, scratching the names in her head of everyone else who had been on the plane. She saw Duke, Mac, Ram, Sophie, Tracy and Ainsley.

Where the fuck was everybody else? The Rottweilers alone were a group of 13 girls, including Heather, but she was only seeing seven; plus, there was no sign of Kurt, Ms. Fleming, or any of the airplane crew.

Suddenly, all Heather saw was a mess of curly blond hair running towards her, before McNamara engulfed her in a tight hug.

"There you are, thank God!" she said. "I wasn't sure if you had made it out."

"Yeah, I did," Heather said. "I'm glad you did too."

"Shit, you're bleeding," McNamara gasped, looking at Heather's forehead with concern in her eyes. Heather touched her forehead and saw deep red staining her fingers; with the adrenaline pumping through her body before, she hadn't realized the cut on her forehead until that moment.

"Fuck..." Heather mumbled. "Does it look bad?"

"I-I don't know...I don't think so."

"Have you guys seen Betty?" Veronica asked, approaching them. Aside from the worried look on her face and her hair looking something akin to a rat's nest, she looked fine. "Or Martha? I can't find them anywhere."

Heather opened her mouth to say no, but a guttural scream stopped her from getting a word in.

"Was that Kurt?" Heather McNamara was running in the direction of the scream before she even finished her sentence. Heather and Veronica glanced at each other but followed her anyway.

(Trigger warning: mentions of injury  ⚠️)

The screams led them to Kurt Kelly, fallen on the ground a few meters away from everybody else; a piece of what looked like the broken wing of the airplane on top of his left leg.

McNamara cried out his name and ran to his side, but Heather didn't know how exactly she was going to help him. Veronica ran in the opposite direction, disappearing quickly while Heather stood there, gobsmacked. She couldn't believe that all of those things were actually happening. She felt like she was watching a movie unfold; she wished that was the case.

Veronica came back as quickly as she had left, this time accompanied by the others.

"God, my leg..." Kurt mumbled to himself over and over.

"We need to help him!" McNamara yelled as if it wasn't obvious, but Heather decided not to be a bitch for once and keep that to herself.

The broken piece of metal weighed even more than the door had, but together, they managed to lift it just enough so McNamara was able to drag Kurt away from it.

As soon as Heather caught a glimpse of Kurt's leg (what was left of it anyway), she instantly turned around, a nauseating feeling running through her entire body. She looked at it for a second, but she knew the image of his leg completely smashed in a mess of flesh, blood, and broken bones would forever be embedded in her mind. Riley's broken leg looked like a minor scratch compared to it.

Heather was thankful that Kurt passed out the second he was freed; she didn't know how he would react upon seeing the condition of his leg. It was safe to say his football career was over.

"What do we do?" she heard Duke say, but she chose to keep staring at her shoes, now ruined with blood, then at the scene behind her. Only upon hearing the screams of  No! and What the fuck are you doing? did Heather turn around, just in time to see JD honoring his nickname as the school's psycho and dropping an axe above the injured part of Kurt's leg.

"What the fuck, man?" Ram Sweeney yelled, his face was a sickly green like he was about to throw up.

Jason Dean looked at him; with his face now speckled with blood and the axe still in his hand, he looked terrifying. "Unlike you, I actually did something to help instead of just standing there gaping like an idiot," he said. "Now we just need to stop the bleeding somehow."

"Will this work?" McNamara asked, untying the yellow bow from her hair and handing it to JD, who tied the improvised tourniquet tightly on Kurt's leg.

(End of trigger warning)

"We have to disinfect the wound," Duke chimed in. "Doesn't anyone have any hand sanitizer?"

"Maybe there's alcohol at the minibar..." Veronica suggested. It was the first time she had spoken in minutes.

"No, only soda. It was cheaper that way..." McNamara mumbled.

"Maybe someone brought contraband..." Heather suggested, looking at wannabe rebel without a cause with one raised eyebrow.

"Well, obviously," Jason Dean's snarky rejoinder made Heather roll her eyes. "But I stashed it in my bag and God knows where that is."

"We'll look for it. It's not like we have anything better to do," Duke said. "Maybe we'll get lucky and find the first aid kit."

"I'm gonna look for Martha and Betty," Veronica said, mostly talking to JD; he nodded but didn't follow her. Maybe Heather wasn't the only one feeling perturbed by all the goriness.

"I'll go with you," she said. There was a suggestion of what resembled a thankful smile on Veronica's face, not quite the real thing, but something like it.

They were careful not to stray too far away from where everybody else was, but the two girls walked on the rocky ground for several minutes, bellowing Betty Finn's and Martha Dunstock's names. Just when Heather thought of suggesting they'd go back, Veronica stopped at the sight of one of her friends.

"Betty?" she called, her voice barely above a whisper. The Rottweilers goalie turned around when she heard her name, showing the girls her face stained with tears, soot, and blood. 

(Trigger warning: mentions of dead body ⚠️)

Veronica started walking towards her friend. "Where is-"  her voice dissipates when she catches sight of the body on the ground, who looked like a ragged doll someone had hastily thrown on the floor after they were done playing with it.

"The flight attendant got hurt and Martha got out of her seat to help her," Betty said, so quietly that Heather had to strain to hear her. "Then the door swung open and she fell. It happened so fast, I..."

(End of trigger warning)

Veronica interrupted her with a hug, trying to comfort both herself and her friend; Betty broke down into tears the second Veronica wrapped her arms around her. 

***

The hours passed, the day dreadfully turned into night, and they were still there.

The group found most of their bags scattered around, and they managed to gather snacks and pieces of clothing to keep them warm at night as well as the first aid kit and some blankets.

Jason Dean made a fire and everyone gathered around it as if they were enjoying a pleasant evening camping, the only difference was that they didn't have any smores in sight and nine people had died.

Heather clutched her coat tighter around herself and leaned in closer to the fire. The throbbing in her head had lessened after the took a painkiller she found in her purse. Apparently, Betty Finn had taken a  Red Cross first aid class and put the skill she learned to good use by helping everyone who was injured, including Heather. There wasn't much she could do about Kurt's leg except putting a bandage on it and hoping for the best.

Heather bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying.
Going to Nationals had been a dream since she got into soccer in freshman year. This was supposed to be one of the happiest days of her life. How did it become such a nightmare?

She looked at her peers, illuminated by the warm yellow light coming from the bonfire, brewing creepy shadows on their faces. Veronica was leaning on JD, who had an arm wrapped around her while she sobbed quietly; Kurt was laying on a makeshift bed with McNamara beside him. No one said a word, there was complete silence except for the tree leaves rustling with the wind, until Veronica started giggling. Everyone looked at her like she was crazy, including JD.

"Sorry," she said between giggles, putting a hand on her mouth to contain herself, failing miserably. "It's just...we were all feeling so bad about Riley and now look at us."

There was silence at first, but slowly the giggles started to blossom within the group, infecting everyone as they laughed at the irony. As absurd as it was, it felt nice to have a moment like that on a day marked by so much tragedy.

Tracy opened a bag of cornuts from the food pile and passed the package around. Heather's stomach rumbled, food had been the last thing on her mind until that moment.

"Maybe we should think about saving some food," she said. "You know, we might be here for a few more hours."

"The plane probably has an emergency transmitter sending out a distress signal," Veronica said, though she didn't sound very convinced. "I'm sure they will be here to rescue us by morning."