As I stepped from the tail-end opening, the plane's head lay large in my view.
Its dented nose is half-buried but most of the fuselage is above the sand.
I used the wires and piping to pull myself up the short distance to the opening.
When I got up and had a solid footing I realized that the Bishar had already swarmed to it, their warriors poking at everything like children prodding a bloating frog and trying not to be spat on.
I made a few steps down into the plane before freezing my movements.
There was a sound that I had that I knew the source of but couldn't fathom the meaning behind it inside the plane.
It was metal on metal very sharp, and jarring, like someone deliberately dismantling something with a cutlass.
I jolted into movement as I sprinted toward the cockpit, my heart hammering.
'What the hell are these idiots doing?' I thought as I moved through the wreckage of the cabin, first class, and then the door of the cockpit which was left open.
