Sedna's Fury

It wasn't supposed to end this way.

It was supposed to be a guy's getaway, free from all their responsibilities and far away from the noise, stress, and anxiety of their jobs and families. Jeff would fly them all out to Hudson Bay in northern Quebec and they would spend their days fishing, hiking and exploring all that the Canadian wilderness had to offer. The first few days were great and Brad felt better than he had in years. Then Frank came running into camp one morning and all hell broke loose.

It's still out there.

Brad slumped in the cockpit seat, trying to focus his racing, panic stricken mind. It didn't take a trained pilot to see that this plane had seen its last safe landing. After the beating it had just taken he was surprised it was even airborne.  It was obvious from the way the yoke was flopping violently back and forth that the controls were beyond hope, and yet the plane still seemed to be stuck in a gradual ascent. He didn't know if the shuddering he felt throughout his body was related or was because they lost both the passenger door and stairs during takeoff minutes before. Along with Mike.

It's never going to stop.

Just thinking about the doorway caused Brad to glance back at the darkened portal. Although the cabin lights were unable to penetrate the swirling blackness beyond Frank's gloved hands gripping the open doorway, brief flashes of lightning revealed their determined pursuer. Brad had no words to describe what he was seeing, long black tentacles stretched out, reaching towards the climbing plane, the things body, if it had one was lost in the ink- dark clouds.

                You can't go on like this

Brad tore his gaze from the rear of the plane and forced himself to inventory his surroundings. All he found was a grungy plastic toolbox with a few common hand tools, an incomplete first aid kit, and Jeff's golden parachute.  A gag gift from the group when Jeff sold his share of the furniture store to buy this plane, Brad hoped it was as functional as it was funny at the time.  Brad's throat tightened and his vision swam as he relived Jeff being torn apart again in his mind. Jeff was only a couple of steps behind the group, but when that thing got you, it never let go. Mike wanted to go back for Jeff, had plead with Frank and Brad to let him go back. In the end the decision was made for them. Jeff was the first to die, but he wasn't the last.

You are running out of time.

Streaks of nearby lightning brought him back to the present and spurred Brad to action. He grabbed the parachute and buckled himself into it as he surveyed the worsening weather outside. Brad wasn't sure that the weather was related to whatever was chasing them, but he hoped it wasn't.  Even if it was he would rather take his chances with the weather than wait to slowly suffocate onboard or be torn limb from limb.

You know what you have to do

Brad ran his fingers slowly through his thinning hair and allowed himself a couple of deep breaths before he snapped open the toolbox and grabbed the ball-peen hammer.  Hefting it, he walked towards the back of the plane, unsure if he would be able to do what he knew he must. If there was any other way, Brad could not see it. The only thing that slowed that thing down was the time it took to kill. He needed to put some distance between it and the plane if he was ever going to have a chance to reach the ground. 

He should be dead already

Frank was the one who went into the cave. Frank is the one who woke that thing up. Frank was closest to Jeff when he was taken. Frank was on the stairs with Mike when that thing grabbed the plane. It seemed almost unnatural that Frank should survive all that and was somehow still clinging to the side of the plane. As he reached the doorway, Brad dropped to his knees and peered out.

Frank was still there, hanging by just his hands and buffeted by t he wind. Brad paused a moment foolishly hoping that Frank would just fall off on his own. After a brief second, Brad raised the hammer and swung. His vision blurred by his own steadily increasing tears, the first swing landed harmlessly between Frank's hands. The impact caused Frank to turn toward the door, an expression of hope washed over his face. Brad wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry!" he shouted, knowing that the wind would steal the words before they reached Frank's ears but needing to say them anyway. "I am so sorry!" As he raised his makeshift weapon, Brad watched the look in Frank's eyes change to one of absolute horror. He forced himself to turn his eyes to the tentacles growing closer still and with his jaw set in determination he swung the hammer again.