Elyas had never gotten used to Antonio's fast manner of speaking, where he rushed his words, almost stumbling over them...
So when their plane plunged from the sky like a falling missile, and his heart dropped to his stomach, Elyas found it very unfortunate that he couldn't understand Antonio's explanation on the emergency safety procedures for bracing for a crash landing.
"WHAT!" Elyas yelled over the roaring, stuttering engine.
Antonio cleared his throat and repeated, "Sit straight like a pole, and lean forward, arms against my chair! Eh, and maybe pray a little, Eh?! Pray a little!"
It was a two-passenger plane, so Elyas was squirming directly behind the not-so-proficient pilot.
"Did you say pray?!"
"Ha! Ha! I should've at least fixed the communicators, eh?!" Antonio chuckled to himself and readjusted his grip on the yoke.
Elyas didn't hear him, his ears were wheezing from the deafening engine and his overdose of Adrenaline.
'Goddammit, the gallows is better! Let my twentieth be in the gallows, goddammit! Please!'
Surrounding him was a glass canopy, exposing him to a view unlike any other.
The never-ending sea of dunes was like those abandoned floors in one of the old market squares in Massenia, and slowly, it receded, and more and more buildings emerged from the desolate desert.
Moments later, they were passing over the streets of Callista City, and if Elyas weren't too busy panicking at his possible death, he would've gasped.
Because Elyas had never been to a city in real life before.
Countless buildings clustered in districts and were allotted by streets curving all over as if trying to contain their rapid growth. Stark green spaces bloomed in contained patches, a reprieve from the endless dry dullness of the desert.
And as they neared the coast, taller and more impressive buildings jutted out gradually until, on the very coast, dozens of glass buildings yearned for the clouds.
And to Elyas's dismay, the clouds weren't the best place to be right now.
"Antonio! Where! Are! We! Crashing!"
Antonio was looking all about him frantically, from the gauges to the sky, to the sea, then to Elyas.
And all with that same oblivious smile on his face.
"You good with swimming?! The sea is beautiful, eh?!"
"The sea?! The goddamn sea?!"
"The one and only!"
The water did indeed look quite lovely. Turquoise near the coast, a solemn blue further north, all glittering from the sun's graceful reflection.
It was just a shame that Elyas didn't know how to swim... or to be quite precise, never swum before.
Looking below, Elyas's stomach churned as he saw tiny cars and people bustling through the streets and parks. It told him they were close.
At the moment, they were almost at the altitude of the tallest skyscraper.
'Ah shit! Ah goddammit! Oh dear!'
Elyas assumed the position advised by Antonio, squeezed his eyes shut, and mumbled all the curses he could remember.
Antonio hadn't stopped chuckling, and it was getting on his goddamn nerves.
Elyas cracked his eyes and glimpsed the large airport sprawled on the coast, growing larger and larger.
People noticed their fall now, and they were scattering like ants.
"Your flight is in a few hours, eh?! I'll get you there in a jiffy, Laith's son! In a jiffy, I say!"
Elyas wasn't even hearing him now.
Other than his heart ravaging against his chest, he could hear nothing at all.
It was all too damning!
Then, Antonio started counting in anticipation, as if awaiting the climax of a rollercoaster rather than a goddamn plane crash.
"Five!"
"Four!"
"Three!"
"Two-"
BANG!
Everything went dark.
Everything went silent.
***
Should he open his eyes?
No.
No, let him be blissful for a little longer.
He felt the embrace of something cold, soothing and omnipresent.
He wanted to remain as so, cradled and caressed by its tender...
'Hold on...'
...
'Oh goddammit!'
He flailed, then snapped his eyes open to a bleary surface far above, distorting the fading sun rays as they tried to reach him.
It stung like hell!
But no, being blind was worse.
He flipped over and yelped bubbles as he saw an interminable darkness below.
'No! No! Back up! Back up!
He flipped back around and yearned for the above.
His legs and arms kicked back instinctively, slowly heaving his body to the surface.
The more he ascended, the more the water regained its soothing light blue colour.
And so, the more he felt his hope flare.
'Yes! Yes! Yes! Good Elyas! Good! Amazing! You're almost there!'
Goodness, he looked like a bizarre sea creature the way his lanky body swung, kicked, and wriggled.
The surface was in reach!
Just a few more strokes!
And then...
He broke out, gasping and panting, but still flailing his arms and kicking frantically.
Where was he?!
He quickly blinked the soreness away and surveyed his surroundings, water lapping softly against his body as he did.
All he could see was the endless stretch of beautiful, undulating sea on one side, and a large, imposing concrete embankment on the other.
'Where is Antonio?! Oh dear, where is he?! Is he gone?!'
But just before the prospect could settle, he heard a cheeky voice reach him from above the embankment.
He turned to it, and it was a little pudgy man waving at him enthusiastically as if he didn't come hurtling down from twenty-five thousand feet in the air.
"Elyas! They'll come to your rescue, so just hang in there! But I can't stay! They'll throw me in the slammer if I do! So good luck! Do us proud!"
Elyas watched him in bewilderment, but mainly focused on spitting water out and trying to keep his mouth from chugging down the whole goddamn sea.
'Ah... this sucks!'
After a few more fervent waves, Antonio's plump figure dashed away.
Unfortunately, it wasn't for another two minutes before the coast guard finally arrived with red blinking lights and an annoyingly shrill siren that irritated Elyas so much he was tempted to go back underwater.
They hauled him out, asked a few questions of which he answered half-faithfully, and eventually sat him down in one of the expansive hangars where they apparently fixed planes and stuff.
Elyas wasn't in much of a mood to talk; he just hugged his small, rugged suitcase, which Antonio had hidden for him, and kept silent most of the time.
His sagging, miserable face did a good job of discouraging any officers from asking him any further questions, so they kept to investigating the crash.
'Man, I hate aeroplanes.'