Keith thought the fire was only in his lungs, but when he came to, he saw that it was everywhere. Dense tendrils of smoke hung from the roof of the fuselage, undulating grey curtains rippled in the wind.
His eyes burned.
Tears streamed from them but did nothing to negate the sting. He tried to see deeper, but he couldn’t. He tried to breathe but he could only heave. Finding the release to his safety belt, he disentangled himself from the seat.
He spilled into the narrow aisle, listlessly. A part of him wanted to languish there, go to sleep and die, but another part needed to find refuge from this hell. He choked on a brutal cough and glanced up.
The warring flames caught the silhouette of the passenger seats before him, and they looked like looming tombstones. It would be his grave if he did not get out, and fast.
