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Random Fiction #3 – 112818

Rake knew dropping from five thousand meters without a working parachute might not be the best cure for his back pain. The flaming fuse glowing two meters away in the cargo hold of a shuttle descending to the Wrythgak colony gave him a pretty good shove out the door.

Rake felt better about his chances in open air versus certain death inside a blown up ship.

He snatched a padded bag on his way out the door, clipping a live wire from his belt onto the circular door handle. He doubted it would do much good, what with the fiery explosion about to happen. It was worth a shot.

Rake heaved himself out the open door, kicking off with a furious shove from his heavy boot. He spun around quickly to face the doomed shuttle. “If it's going to go out like this, I have to see it with my own eyes,” he said. A gust of wind held him aloft, if only for a split second.

In that time, his mind raced with memories of better times spent with his best friends, sucking up a tear knowing that he was the only one making it out alive.

“You'll all go down as heroes, I'll make sure of it,” he yelled, his voice carried along back to the shuttle. He wasn't a spiritual man, but something told him they'd heard him. He raised his hand in a final crisp salute.

The shuttle burst into flames just before an enormous fireball engulfed it, blasting fractured metal all around. Rake's trajectory was far enough below the mayhem to shield him from one harm, but another harm rapidly approached from the other direction.

“YEOWW!” he yelled, holding out his arm to force his body into the other direction. Finally facing the ground, he took stock of his supplies and weighed the odds of surviving a sudden impact with the ground. With the rush of air punching him in the face, he could no longer get the words out. He settled for quick thoughts.

Copyright © 2018 Chad V. Holtkamp.

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Nareeta Martin

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