Realistic or Modern Layover of the Living Dead | IC

[elytra]

​

date. July 16th
time. 2:04 pm
location. Over the state of Montana
weather. Cloudy with wind; slight turbulence every so often

the plane. Flight 203 is not a luxury plane. It has first class, business class, and economy class, like other planes, and the economy class is the biggest section and the one housing our characters at the moment, whether that's because it was all they could afford or because the other classes were filled up by the time they got tickets. There are two seats per window, then a middle section of 3 seats that's separated from the window section by a aisle way. To the front of the section is the bathrooms, along with the flight attendant accommodations. Each seat has a take down tray, but no screen for watching films like other planes may have. The snack cart comes by every so often with ginger ale and peanuts; any other drinks or snacks have run out. There are also some really bad gossip magazines being offered.

the news. The news has been filled with awful things lately. Water supplies have been contaminated by broken & rusting pipes, air quality is on the decline in cities and nearby areas, and global warming has led to an extreme shift in weather patterns that have been deadly for parts of the world. Not only that, but a sickness has been spreading around; it seems to just be a cold, with your typical stuffy nose and dry throat, but people have also noted feeling lightheaded and being prone to vomiting. Doctors have confirmed its not a common cold, but it doesn't seem to be that dangerous; there have been no reported deaths as of this time.

the start. All characters start on flight 203, in the economy class. The plane is still in the air and things are going smoothly. A man near the front of the plane has been coughing and sneezing up a storm, causing some people to complain under their breath, but other than him and the occasional child making a ruckus, it has been a peaceful flight for the 2 hours you've been in the air.

 

[latitha]

Amy Kiang
interacting with [ n/a ]​

She had never been a fan of flying.

Her family's vacation home on the coast had always been close enough to drive, which meant for the first few years of her life, she had no reason to board a plane. Once she became an adult and went off to college, however, that changed. That first ride had her on edge the whole way through — all 6 hours of the monotonous flight.

This one was, thankfully, less intense. Amy was an older woman now, who better knew how to cope with stress and anxiety. Keeping a clear head had become her strong suit. Still, every time there was a bump of turbulence, she could feel her stomach tighten into a knot, her eyes darting up from the pages of her book to take a quick glance around. Minding not to look at the plane windows, of course.

So far, it had been a pretty unremarkable ride, a fact she was silently grateful for. The man towards the front, however, was grating on her nerves. Being a medical professional, it was natural that she had heard of the sickness that was sweeping through the nation, among the many other bad bits of news they were being fed through the television almost daily. She wasn't too concerned about catching it, as long as she kept her things clean and stayed in her seat in the back, away from the afflicted. The noise he was making, though, was definitely a pain.

The woman would look up for a brief moment when he coughed yet again — a wet, unsettling kind of cough, either the sign of something like allergies or, more severely, a respiratory infection — then quickly returned to her book, comfortably seated in the middle row. A decent enough distance away from the windows.

 

[AceTheLizardKing]

Zack @ n/a

The airport was a truly wild place. Zack had never had cause to be in a place so large and so crowded before in his entire life, and it showed. He'd nearly missed his flight, having walked in circles so many times just trying to figure out what the hell "terminal" and "gate" meant. When he'd finally found what he'd thought was his gate, he'd nearly been kindly escorted by a friendly TSA woman to the complete opposite side of the airport literal seconds before the doors to the gangway were closed. It wasn't like him, to be so nervously excited about new things, but then? This was his first time flying. Why shouldn't he feel a little childlike joy and wonder?

Unfortunately, the novelty of being up in the air wore off a few minutes after take off. The launch down the runway had been thrilling, and watching the world shrink slowly as they climbed higher and higher into the sky had been fascinating, but as soon as the jumbo sized sardine can had breached the cloud bank, he'd soon grown... bored. With nothing to see but an endless sprawl of fluffy white, he'd turned his gaze from the window he sat beside and chose instead to dig out his book.

"Bonsai. The Art of Growing and Keeping Miniature Trees". It was a worn, rather oddly shaped paperback that he'd read cover to cover more times than he'd care to remember. Soil stains marked the corners of the white pages and smeared the cover from where he'd needed to look something up in the middle of wiring a new plant, or needed to double check the reference photos for a particular style he was aiming for. His current interest was bonsai fruit trees, and his boss and mentor, Bayashi Hokoto, had called in a few favors from the family he had that still lived in Japan to secure a Yoshino Cherry sapling-- it'd been only six months old or so-- that he'd personally gone to retrieve. It was easily the best gift he'd received from anyone, but then the elderly man had always been the closest thing to a father he'd ever had and had always had a knack for knowing what sort of things to surprise him with over the years he'd been employed beneath him.

Despite still having years before he could truly begin shaping her, he poured over the pages of his book now, fantasizing about all the potential shapes he could lovingly form her into. So engrossed he was in his reading, he barely noticed the hacking coughs of the sick man towards the front of the plane, nor the moments of turbulence that shook the plane on occasion.

 

[Jewel]

Beck Donathan

Date: July 16, 2:04 PM
Location: Somewhere over Montana
Interactions: N/A

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t natural. How can a ninety-thousand-pound metal contraption compact full o’ folks, their luggage, plus a shitton of highly flammable fuel, launch itself thirty-five thousand feet in the big blue and soar as free as a bald eagle? A bald eagle that can’t stop lurching and trembling and has a thousand tiny passenger fleas carrying diseases from one town to the next that is. It was kind of beautiful, kind of amazing, kind of horrifying and definitely unnatural. Beck wasn’t all that into physics, he knew jack-shit about aerodynamics, thrust, lift, the calculations involved, the slick electronics and fancy computers that made it possible for a handful of airport-hungover people to fly like birds. But he didn’t think it should’ve been possible. Another example of humans overreaching, of grasping for straws out of reach, to drink and dine with divinity above.

This wasn’t to say Beck didn’t enjoy being on the plane. No, he didn’t mind it. The tension between his fingers and the armrests on either side of him was mutual and platonic. The blood draining from his face during and post-liftoff was unrelated. The dryness of his throat and the lightheadedness in his noggin was airsickness, yes, but he could look past it. He cast envious looks toward the old man passed out in the window seat beside him. He sent pitiful apologetic looks to the people who squeezed past him in the isle. He felt large in the dainty confinement of his seat. He was afraid to squeeze too hard on the armrest least he break it—but he was not nearly inclined to let go. His hat sat on his lap, consoling him.

He fiddled with the air conditioner knobs. Where did the air on planes come from? Was that a stupid question? It came from outside, right? Beck didn’t consider himself to be much of a thinker. More of the doing-sort. The hands-on, clothe-sullying type. Neither was he the talkative sort able to prattle on about the weather, television, or bookish topics. He’d never gone to college, never studied poetry, ethics, or politics. But he knew how to drive a Combine Harvester and he knew how to use a welding torch, and that was good enough for him.

Beck looked around at the other folks he could see. Some awake, some passed out. Some reading, some watching movies on their phones and ipods. Some staring out their windows, some snacking on peanuts, and one discarded Montana giftshop crossword puzzle over his old man’s knee. Not an hour ago he’d been hunching over it, squinting and muttering.

“What’sa five-lett’r word… ‘Cattle Queen ov Montana’?”
“Jones.”
“Starts with’a O.”
“Oater.”
“Damn…” pencil scratching sounds. “Hrmf.”
And now: snoring. Good talk, pops.

 

[darkersun]

Jackie Castillo
interactions: none​

There is nothing that Jackie would rather be doing than sleeping. The past weekend had seeped all the energy from her bones until there was none remaining, and Jackie couldn't wait to return to her own apartment, with her own bed, and most importantly - her own bathroom. She had frankly forgotten how awful it was to share with her siblings. But yet, Jackie wasn't asleep, mainly due to the textbook balanced on the snack tray in front of her, with a highlighter grasped in her hand. The class the textbook was for had been finished for months, and the professor had maybe assigned them to read the book a maximum of thrice, but goddammit if Jackie wasn't going to try to get her money's worth. In truth, most of the topics written had already been gone over in the course, but Jackie sat stubbornly, highlighting the facts and information as she went.

She couldn't afford one of the many window seats on the plane, and instead sat in an uncomfortable middle seat in the middle aisle, also known as the worst seats on this plane. Maybe Jackie deserved it, after all, she had bought the tickets as last minute as she could, so of course the woman would be stuck in a shitty seat. A rattling cough broke her intense focus, and with a grimace, Jackie slid father back in her seat. To be fair, nobody likes to get sick, and cold-like symptoms were the most annoying in her opinion. Sick enough to feel shitty, but usually not sick enough to take a day off. Not that, you know, she would truly take one. On past occasions of being sick, Jackie pretty much had to be tied down to her bed to keep her from moving. One notable occasion involved her mother having to hide all the cleaning supplies from their apartment (at the time) to keep her daughter from deep cleaning the carpets while suffering from a fever of one hundred and one degrees. Fun memories.

Focusing back on the textbook proved a lot easier said than done as once Jackie had identified the man coughing, it seemed that he had never stopped. The sound roared into her ears every few seconds, and with a frustrated sigh, she slipped her textbook into the backpack lying at her feet. Her hands rummaged through the bag for a little while, trying to find something else to entertain her until she finally grabbed her phone, reaching with the other hand to grab a pair of earbuds.

With her ears unable to hear the man any longer, and music quietly playing, Jackie softly pressed her head against the back of her seat. It seemed like she would get that nap after all.

 

[MokaChan]

« Arthur Wallace »

Date: July 16
Time: 2:10 PM
Location:
Somewhere over the state of Montana.
Interactions: None.


«•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•»​

It had been a few months since Arthur had last ridden on an airplane. He was used to the slight turbulence, the uncomfortable position he and many other passengers were forced to sit along the ride. He'd always loved traveling and had been to quite a few places throughout his life. Out of all the states and out of state places he'd visited, he still had one place in mind. One place he wanted to set foot on before he died. Hawaii. During the past two hours he had been on the plane, he'd managed to fall asleep and nap, as well as snack on most of whatever was on the menu.

There he was, eyes closed with a slight furrow on his brow, lips just barely parted so he could breathe a little better. Tucked in between the older man's forearm and stomach was his hardcover of American Sniper, and one of his hands lay atop of the open book, fingers splayed wide. A few strands of dark brown hair had fallen in front of his eyes and over his forehead, his chin tucked against his collarbones, wrinkling up the collar of his red, plaid shirt. His brows furrowed slightly, head jerked from the nightmare he was having, and when the metal transport bounced a little, his eyes snapped open and he jumped awake with a silent gasp.

When did I fall asleep?

Arthur hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep and he blinked a few times, slowly pushed himself up further in his seat as he looked around the blurry room. His mind and body felt heavy, still waking up from that damned nightmare. A small frown formed as he lifted his free hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes, cleared his throat some when he looked back down at his open book. Picking it up, he flipped it over to see where he left off. Apparently, he'd gotten so tired he stopped reading halfway through page ninety. Blinking again, the blurriness returned to his eyes and his frown deepened a little as he rubbed at his eyes again with a soft, annoyed grunt. His gaze flicked over a few of the sentences and sighed heavily as he readjusted himself in his seat. Looking around once more, he saw chairs in front of him with various hairstyles poking just above or beside the headrests each passenger leaned against.

Rolling his shoulders, he looked towards his right to find the passenger he'd been randomly positioned beside, a woman with long, dark hair who also appeared to be around his age. Glancing past her, he spotted the other two people seated closer to the window, one a little girl with blonde hair tied up in two pigtails and the other was who he presumed to be her mother. The little girl's big, doe eyes locked with Arthur's and she waved at him. His hardened gaze softened as he offered her a small smile and waved back, to which she responded with a giggle and returned to playing with her barbie dolls. The mother gave Arthur a look of wary disproval and his frown returned as he looked back down at his book. Rolling his eyes a little with a mental grumble and he continued his journey that was the American Sniper's story.

It wasn't too much longer before his stomach suddenly decided that it was hungry and it silently demanded for food by twisting a little. The older man looked up for a fight attendant and waved her over when she spotted him and he offered her a quick grin.

"Ma'am?"

She nodded her head to the customer she was currently helping and walked towards the older man with a customer service smile.

"Yes, sir, do you need something?"

He offered her a forced smile and curt nod in greeting before asking, "Could I get some peanuts and a water?"

"Of course."

With that, she walked down the aisle and Arthur blew out a huff of air, flipping his book back upright so he could save the spot he'd been reading currently. He'd read that book so many times when he went on vacation with his family and a memory flashed into his mind, making his gaze harden. It wasn't long before the flight attendant appeared with a bottle of water and a small, plastic cup fool of peanuts. Arthur rose a brow and thanked her before she left. Picking up a few of the shell-less peanuts, he plopped them in his mouth and the loud series of crunches filled his ears with eat bite he took.

Another passenger began to cough violently and his steely gaze flicked towards them, one of his eyes slightly narrowed with a crinkled brow. Arthur watched the other man for a few moments, deciding it was nothing, and he glanced around the rest of the general area.

Picking up the cup once he finished, he tilted his head back and the rest fell down the hatch. Placing the cup back on the little table, he chewed them a little too loudly, opened his book once more, and began to read where he had been before he fell asleep. He swallowed and instantly his eyes watered and he lifted one of his hands up against his lips as he started to choke. One went down the wrong way and Arthur inhaled a few deep breaths, dark brows furrowed as he coughed each time he breathed out. Taking the bottle water, he coughed twice before he unscrewed the cap and he hurriedly gulped down some of the cool refreshment.

He'd doubled over some and felt eyes on him as he leaned back with a long gasp of breath and he hit his chest a few times. Clearing his throat after another swig, he wiped the unshed tears from his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"God dammit..." He muttered under his breath, feeling heat rise to his cheekbones and ears.

 

[KayCooper]

Bel Arbeider
Interaction n/a
​

Bel loved flying. Airplanes were a mechanical wonder, and though he wasn't a fan of being stuck in Economy, he loved staring out the window and watching the Rocky Mountains stretch out below him for miles. The beauty and splendor of the natural world outside his window was almost enough to distract him from the anxiety that was seemingly a constant companion as of late. When they landed, he'd be starting his new life officially. A new job, a new country, a new chance to get himself on the right track. He already missed the Netherlands, but he knew as long as he was there, his mother would continue to have power over his life. The time he spent serving in the RNLAF, the Dutch Airforce, as a mechanic had been enough to break her hold temporarily, but as soon as he'd returned home she had been there waiting. He'd had enough, and decided to take an offer made by one of the American soldiers he'd met while he'd been deployed. A job and a chance at a new life.

The sound of coughing a few rows up from him dragged Bel out of his thoughts. The wet, painful sound enough to leave Bel grimacing in disgust. He never understood why people insisted on flying while they were sick. In a small cramped environment, it was so easy to spread your cold to whoever else you were sitting with. This man had been coughing the entire flight, just hacking and wheezing away every few minutes. That and the sound of a fussy child somewhere behind him, had already given him a headache. Irritated, Bel snagged onto his phone and popped in his headphones, turning on some music in an attempt to drown out the sounds coming from the front of the plane.

After about ten minutes of constant coughing, not even his music could drown out, he flagged down a stewardess as she passed.

"Is he alright?" He asked, earning a grimace from the stewerdess that told him that she had no more idea than he did. Sighing, he rubbed at his temples. "I'll take a ginger ale please," He mumbled, resigned to the fact he'd be listening to this for the rest of the flight. Once she handed over the tiny cup, he smiled gratefully before popping his headphones back in staring out the window and doing his best to focus on the mountain range below.

 

[elytra]

NPC POST​

The plane was, for the most part, peaceful for the following moments. This ended however when the sick man up front got up from his seat, seeming to be making a beeline for the bathroom as he coughed into his arm, which the more observant and closer of passengers could probably see now had small red specks all over the fabric of his sleeve. He didn't make it far; his foot caught on a seat and he tripped. It didn't take long after that for him to cough up a more noticeable amount of blood onto the floor.

A woman nearby went to steady him. "Is anyone on board a medic?" She shouted, a little frantic as she tried to keep him upright and seeming to not know what to do with herself. A flight attendant had also hurried over, scarf pulled above her face, seeming to be more hesitant about touching the sick man than the passenger was.

The plane jolted. The flight attendant stumbled, the passenger was distracted from her task, and neither were quick enough to notice the state of the man who had been coughing up blood. It likely wouldn't have helped anyway; within the next few seconds, he lunged at the woman who had been helping him, managing to sink his teeth into her arm and causing her to scream. The plane devolved into chaos from there.

 

[KayCooper]

Bel Arbeider ​

Bel didn't hear the initial call-out from the nurse, he'd managed to zone out staring over the steady rise and fall of the mountain peaks below him. His music played peacefully in his ear, and he'd actually started to doze off when a shriek broke through the cabin. Looking up with a start, Bel barely had time to register where the scream had come from before he watched the man who had been coughing earlier set into tearing apart the woman who had moved to help him.
"What the fuck!?" he yelped as the plane jerked violently, fumbling with his seat belt and watching with increasing horror as the enraged man turned his attention towards his next victims. The people next to him were screaming in terror, their eyes wide with panic as the scene unfolded in front of them. "Is there an air marshal on board!? Someone fucking stop him!" Bel barked, swearing as the plane lurched again. He couldn't get out of his seat. Not with the plane moving the way it was. What was happening? The plane was making noises he'd only heard a few times before while in the airforce. It didn't sound good...

 

[latitha]

Amy Kiang
interacting with [ n/a ]​

She would glance at the man seated next to her through the corner of her eye, watching silently as he got a bit choked on his salty snack, but once she saw that he was in no real harm, she turned her attention back to her book. For the next few minutes, she was absorbed in the story, eagerly following the protagonist's daring escape from the castle, mounted atop her steed and with the prince clinging to her back. Women knights were, unfortunately, very underrated. Who didn't love a strong female character? Not Amy Kiang.

The shouting would snap her from her daydream of being a knight and rescuing a dashing prince. Looking up, she noticed the pool of blood first, her brows knitting as she stood from her seat, leaving her book to step out into the aisle. "I'm a—" She didn't get to finish her sentence before the plane shook, nearly sending her to the floor if it weren't for her fumble to grab onto a nearby chair.

When she lifts her head, things had already gone from bad to worse.

It only takes the doctor a split second to realize that the man had bitten the woman next to him, sinking his teeth deep into her skin. He didn't look good, not just in a sickly way — he didn't look human anymore; his skin was deathly pale and there was a ravenous glare in his eyes, his veins sticking out like weaving threads of blue against his face and arms. Mingled blood and spit ran down his chin.

"Someone fucking stop him!" That urged her to frantically glance around, hoping to find something to use as a weapon. Her eyes immediately landed on a food tray. That would do, at least for 15 seconds.

Grabbing it with both hands, Amy rushed over and raised the tray above her head, bringing it down hard onto the back of the man's head. There was a loud crack and he flopped down limply onto the floor. There wasn't much time until he would wake up again, so she opted to straddle his waist, holding his arms down with all her strength (which wasn't much). Now she was silently thanking whatever was out there that she chose to wear pants instead of a skirt.