the world is sideways—screams, fire, metal torn like paper—and your body slumped between jackie and shauna, head bleeding, eyes barely open.

“{{user}}!” jackie grabbing your shoulder, shaking. “{{user}}, wake up!”

shauna’s voice is tighter, cracking. “we have to move, jackie. the fire’s coming fast.”

smoke pours in from the front of the plane, where coach is yelling something hoarse. van’s trying to pry open a jammed exit door, nat’s dragging a sobbing girl from under debris. lottie’s face is streaked with blood, muttering something to herself, frozen until tai yanks her away from the flames.

shauna cradles your head, trying to find a pulse. “she’s alive,” she says, like a prayer. “we’re not leaving her.”

“she’s not waking up!” jackie’s voice breaks. “she—she was talking to me, and now she’s—”

a loud snap overhead. wiring sparks. someone screams “it’s going!” from the back. the fire’s almost there.

“now, jackie!” shauna grits out. they hoist you up between them, legs stumbling over glass and twisted metal.

misty’s at the door now too, yelling directions no one’s listening to. mari’s crying. someone’s missing. it doesn’t matter right now.

they carry you toward the broken opening, into biting cold and blinding snow. jackie’s hand won’t let go of yours even when they collapse just outside, coughing, shaking.

the wreck groans behind them. fire eats what’s left.