Holly, Cody, and I sprint to aid him at the impact point. He groans.

“Are you okay?” Holly asks.

“I don’t think he is,” Cody replies. “Hang on, buddy, we’re going to lift you.”

“No,” Wesley says, coughing. We all wince a bit. “The fall broke too many bones. I’m as good as dead. The four of you should find water and shelter before it hits daytime. You don’t want to be caught under the sun in the desert.”

“But we’ve got to do something for you,” Holly says. “We can’t leave you here to… to die.”

“We don’t even know where ‘here’ is,” Wesley says, coughing again. A little bit of blood bubbles up. It’s a good thing I already emptied my stomach.

“All the more reason to care for you,” Cody says.

“Just go. Prioritize you four.”

Recognizing a pointless argument, we walk back to Stacy, who is struggling to pull the metal out of her leg.

“Don’t do that!” Cody yells. “Don’t you know a thing about wounds like that? You’re gonna bleed quicker.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I can feel my leg throbbing against it. I feel like I’m gonna die.”

“We can’t lose both of them,” Holly says to Cody.

“Okay,” he says, “it’s okay. Leave it until we have a safe way to remove it. Chances are, you’ll need a doctor. We’re gonna go hunt for water and shelter like Wesley suggested, and as soon as we do, we’ll get you. In the meantime, stay put.”

“How is Wesley?” Stacy asks.

We share a nervous glance between the three of us.

“I’ll wait, then.”

“Come on Tes, let’s go.”

We march forward, Cody in the lead, hoping to discover water or a source of civilization in the dark desert night. A scan of the area gives an impression of how desolate this desert is. There aren’t even cacti. All deserts have cacti, right?

“What if we get on that hill and search from there?” Holly suggests. “Maybe we’ll see more.”

“That’s such a good idea, babe,” Cody says.

I think I would’ve been better off dead on the plane.

We climb up the side of the dune, fighting loose sand all the way to the top. I’d say it took nearly ten minutes if I’d been wearing a watch. It probably felt longer because of the exertion.

I stare at the burning wreckage of our plane using the new vantage point. Half an hour ago, we were on a school trip to Jerusalem. Now, we’re stranded in a desert and only five of us are alive.

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How did this even happen? It wasn’t supposed to. I didn’t wanna be right.

Oh, God. My classmates are dead. Most of them died in the crash. We’re all that’s left.

“What is that?” Holly asks, pointing to a large sandy wreck a good distance away in the opposite direction of our plane. The question snaps me away from my mental breakdown, if for a moment.

I can’t tell what it’s made of, but my best guess is wood and some sort of tarp.

“I’m not sure,” Cody says, echoing my thoughts. “Should we go check it out?”

We exchange a glance of uncertainty. I shrug and lead the way down the opposite side of the hill towards the strange landmark. A soft wind blows on our side as we walk, cooling me down both physically and emotionally. Nothing like a breeze to calm the nerves.

Dad used to do that, too, whenever I’d have a bad dream. We’d go to the garage or the porch and sit until I stopped hyperventilating. I wish he were here.

As we approach, the sheer size of whatever this thing is catches me off guard. It has to be maybe fifty or one hundred feet tall. My initial judgement of wood and tarp was correct, though there’s also some metal strewn across the desert, like gears and a massive section of framing.

“This must be an old airship,” Holly says. “I’ve never been this close to one. Where do you think it came from?”

“No idea,” says Cody. “With our luck, it’s a Nazi airship.”

“Wouldn’t that be something? Wait, what if this is the Hindenburg?”

“I doubt it. Come on, let’s go see if there’s water or some solid shelter.”

Though I’m not sure I like the concept of seeking refuge in a crumbling airship, I join them in the march ahead. It’s not like I have many options, anyway.

We eventually reach the bottom of the ship and come face to face with the dried, whittled wood. There are plenty of cracks and gaps, and many are big enough to slip through if we really wanted.

I don’t. I would much rather not go into the decrepit structure.

“Tess,” Cody says, “why don’t you keep guard while Holly and I search for a safe spot to chill?”

“Guard?” Holly asks. “Guard us from what?”

“I don’t know. Scorpions or spiders or rabid camels, or something.”

“Do you think there are scorpions?”

“Beats me. I’m no expert in deserts. Doesn’t help that we can’t even tell which desert this is. Either way, I’ll protect you, babe.”

“That’s why you’re the best.”

Who’s going to protect me from listening to them?

I pace the side of the broken-down ship, doing my best to stave off the impending mental breakdown. My wrist is unbearably uncomfortable, my whole body is tired from the adrenaline high, and the sight of my dead classmates still haunts me when I blink.

I’m no less a wreck than this airship.

When I was diagnosed with anxiety a few years ago, everything made sense. Pieces of a puzzle I was subconsciously putting together connected in my head.

We got lucky with my meds, too. The second one my doctor had us try worked wonders. Ever since, it’s been mostly manageable.

My meds were on the plane.

It’s okay, Tes. I’m sure they’re fine. The fire hasn’t consumed everything yet. When you make it back to the plane, you can go grab them.

Oh, God, what if I can’t? I’ll be unmedicated in the middle of the desert with a broken wrist and two people I can’t stand.

“Tes, I think you should come see this!” Cody yells from somewhere inside the airship. A string of expletives floats across my mind.

I step into the hollow shell of the behemoth ship, being careful to avoid smacking into things or cutting my feet on metal and glass. Ahead of me is a hallway tilted ever-so-slightly upwards, still in moderate condition compared to the weathered outside. Aside from the moon’s glow peeking in from the cracks and a flickering light at the end of the hall, the place is pitch black. Each step forces the boards beneath me to creak, haunting my thoughts.

“Down here,” Holly says, rounding the corner with an oil lamp, the source of the mysterious light. “It’s like this room used to be a hospital.”

I look inside. Leaning against the wall are two medical stretchers, and littered across the floor are human bones and red armbands with swastikas on them.

It was a Nazi airship.