Chapter Text
The statement of one Alec Patel, regarding the sudden crash of flight 528.
Statement taken by Roan Palmer, Head archivist of The Bronco Institute.
Read by Marlee Huang, Intern at The Bronco Institute.
Statement begins
Have you ever been on a swing? If you have, you probably know that one moment where it reaches the peak of it's height, and- just for a second- everything feels weightless. Almost like you're floating in midair. But then gravity catches you, and you're sent plummeting back down. That's how the crash felt.
But I'm getting ahead of myself… I should probably start from the beginning. I had just won a photography contest in L.A., and my family and I were taking a flight so we could get home to Rosewood. I've had a fear of flying since I was young, but luckily the flight there had settled most of those fears. For some reason I still felt queasy getting on that plane.
It happened about an hour in. I still wasn't taking it very well, and being stuffed in with my family was starting to get uncomfortable, so I got up to go to the bathroom so I could take a breather. While I was walking to the bathroom, I accidentally bumped into this… man. I looked up to apologize to him- but when I saw his face I got that feeling of weightlessness. I was frozen for a few seconds before I snapped out of it and ran into the bathroom.
I locked myself in there for a bit. I don't know exactly how long, but after a while, I heard screaming, and that feeling of weightlessness returned. The screaming didn’t last very long, drowned by the sound of rushing air. I could feel the plane losing altitude. It felt like I was in there for hours, just falling and hearing nothing but the air. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t even hear myself over the wind. I felt stuck. Stuck in the seemingly endless vacuum of silence and emptiness.
After what felt like eternity, I was thrown to the bottom of the bathroom, and the wind was suffocated under the din of crushing metall. I ended up pinned under a chunk of metal, and was cut up all over from the shrapnel. I felt my leg dislocate as I pulled myself from the wreck- I still have trouble walking on that one sometimes. It took me a while to push open the door, since it was pinned shut by a beam. Once I made it back to the seats, I froze. It was horrifying.
The whole plane was stained with blood, bodies were twisted around the gnarled metal of the plane like some sick art display. I climbed over to my families seats, desperate to see them alive... They weren't. I saw my fathers body laying across a couple I didn't know. My mother's limp corpse was still holding on to what remained of my little sister. You’d think I would have cried, or yelled, or anything. But no.
I felt completely numb.
I was in such a state of shock I don't even remember leaving what was left of the plane, all I remember is seeing that man again. He was just standing there. Smiling. Unblinking. Somehow I knew it was him who crashed the plane.
The rescue team found me two days later, and I was announced the only survivor of the crash. I've had several news stations try to interview me about it, but I knew they would all think I'm crazy. That was… until I heard about you guys. Taking people's stories no matter how weird. I really needed to tell someone about this, it makes me feel less… crazy, I guess. Thank you for listening to me... What was your name again?
{Roan, Roan Palmer.}
Well, thank you, Roan.
Statement ends
"I don't know why Roan insists on listening to their stories and writing it out for them. Suppose it makes the interaction feel more 'human'... Whatever, none of my business, I guess. I know in these notes I'm supposed to share insight on the subject, but I've just started yesterday and honestly, I can't make heads or tails of this. Roan wrote in the margins, 'It seems like this is the work of The Vast, question again at a later date'... Alec Patel has not shown up for another statement even after Roan has called him personally... Several times. Every time, there’s been no answer. Anyways, this is Marlee Huang, Intern at The Bronco Institute, Signing off... Goodbye."