The Crash

A Story by Ethan Jobalia

A loud pop rings through the air. This on its own would not normally be enough to alarm a person, but strange things have been happening throughout the day. First they were creaks, quietly resonating through the hull, and within an hour those creaks had turned to groans. As these groans got louder and louder the captain tried to minimize panic, ensuring everyone it was just the pressure equalizing. That did a bit to soothe the nerves for the time being, but it had been over two hours since the first creak. The pressure should be equalized, shouldn’t it? Then it came. It was only a small pop, but it felt like so much more. That small pop of metal being pushed into, or out of, place seemed to spell the end. The pop came from below, almost biblically seeming like a demon attempting to crawl up to the main deck from the dark fiery pits of the boiler room. There’s not much of a “below” in space but that maintenance deck might as well have been hell for any human foolish enough to venture in. Another pop sounds, followed by a groan this time, louder than any other. Passengers flock to the window. A planet. Thank god. A planet means life and life means safety.

No calls are made for the lifeboats, so this must just be an emergency landing. Okay. Another pop, another groan. The planet grows larger. Moon, not planet. All the same, it looks lush and verdant. Life. Another pop, another groan. Just a bit longer, just a bit closer. Hold on you goddess, you captain of the galaxy. This isn’t your first trip and it won’t be your last. My last. Our last. Passengers look around, staring into each other’s eyes hoping to find solace. None. Hoping to find peace and reassurance. None. Hoping even to find hope. Any that’s left is fading fast. Emergency landings aren’t this chaotic, are they? They must be. That’s what makes them an emergency. Surely this is not the captain’s first emergency landing. Surely he knows exactly what he’s doing. But then again, why has he not spoken a word for two hours. That must mean there’s no precautions worth taking, that we’ll land safely and all be okay. That or… no. Can’t think like that. Mustn’t think like that.

The planet grows ever closer, filling up the windows that run lengthwise down each floor of the deck. It becomes easier to see out the port side, while the starboard side slowly turns to face the sky. The black sky dotted sparsely with white pinholes. Each of those pinholes is a star, each of those stars have planets, each of those planets have moons. Just like this. This moon. This moon is growing bigger and bigger, less and less escapable. It’s hard to tell from up here but we might be gaining speed. No. My imagination. Passengers are now huddled in groups, families presumably. Pop, groan. Pop, groan. Suddenly, as if the demon of the boilers was walking among us, a sound comes. A series of sounds. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Each time, louder than the last, a step on the hull. The popping begins at the forward and moves to the aft. Both sides. Should someone check on the captain? No. He knows what he’s doing. Someone else will.

Closer. Closer. Panic. Running. Nothing. Everything. Help. Close your eyes it will all be over soon, one way or another. Anthony? Where are you? Mommy! I’m scared! What’s happening? What’s going on? Many words, all one thought. Is this the end? The moon is no longer a sphere, but a flat plane. There was no imagination, the ship is now hurdling towards the planet ever increasing its speed. Pop, groan. Pop, groan. A new sound. A growl. It starts, like the pops, the groans, the demon, our demise, the heavens, death, life, from below. A deep churning growl. A lament of cruel fate. Nothing can be done now. The growl resonates throughout the entire ship creating a low droning buzz. Almost… peaceful… Too loud to hear anything else now. Growl shifts to whine. High piercing whine of shifting and tearing metal. No longer is moon visible. Moon has become fire. Fire melts glass, heats metal, hurts hands. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Hot. Loud. Scared.

The ship is two now. No more ship. No more safety. No more hope. Moon gets closer. Moon gets closer. Mountains. Now Trees. Now creeks. Creak. Moan. Whine. Pop. Pop. Pop. Reminds of first pop. Knew it was over. It’s all over. Closer. Closer.