The voice in my head laughs at me as I run and jump over obstacles. I’m amazed at how cluttered the high grass is. Dead branches, a rusted motorcycle. An entire tree that’s been there so long the grass has climbed half of it.

You should have sent the kid and his mother to do this. The voice mocks. That was how my father did things. Got others to do it for him, then took the credit, or not, when it went bad. I have been blamed for so much he did; I lost track of the number. I tried to keep track, back when I believe I’d make him pay for each injustice he caused me.

Back before he convinced me justice was an illusion.

I see the fuselage; I hear the crackling of a fire. What on a plane can burn?

I crest a hill and the furrow on the other side leads my gaze to the tail section, hundreds of meters further, still lined up with the direction the plane dug it. Much further ahead, the rest of the plane is sideways to the furrow. The earth ripped apart where it broke off and turns as it slid.

I’m an idiot.

Duh.

There’s no way I can help anyone here by myself.

Go back, tell them you were too late. Nothing can be done.

I run forward. I will not do what my father would. I will not give up just on the chance I’m too late. If I can’t save anyone, it will not be due to a lack of trying.

“Hello!” I yell as I pass the tail section. “Is anyone alive?” the windows are too high, but wouldn’t anyone conscious be yelling for help? Can someone survive a crash like this? Two hours ago I’d have said no.

Now? Who knows. If I can switch places with someone by willing it. If an old man turned into a three meters tall troll, and I was able to take three hits from him and not end up as a pancake, what else is possible?

The red bar at the bottom of my screen, barely a quarter full, reminds me I am not in the best shape to do this. Also, how am I this injured and still able to run? This system that now seems to run things makes no sense.

I’m at the broken end of the tail section. Luggage spills out, and above will be the passengers. Or is the back of the plane only luggage? I never flew, never had an interest in planes and now I regret it.

The other section is bigger, the odds of someone being there, of surviving are greater. I need to do something, but what?

Leave.

I play the odds and run for the middle section. I’m halfway there when I glance over my shoulder and nearly trip. The inside of the tail section is on fire, but behind two rows of broken seats, someone moves, staggers, and falls onto a seat, and doesn’t stand.

They’re dead. No point bothering.

There’s no way I’m under twenty meters from them. What did the description say? If I’m guarding someone, the distance doubles? Is forty meters enough? How do I decide they’re who I’m guarding?

I can see their heads and part of their bodies. I fix my gaze on that. “Tag,” I whisper, pray, and will the switch to happen.

The heat is more intense than I expect. How can there be so much fire? Don’t planes have fire suppression systems? A yellow bar above the red one lost a third. Wasn’t there something about using magic to alter the distance? Good thing it was automatic then.

I cover my face with an arm and try to tell if there are others. The fire is mostly at the back, with the sides burning further, maybe the middle. No one else as far as I—

Motion among the fire.

“Hello! I’m here to help!” how can I get to them? The form stands. “If you have something to protect you from the fire, come to me. I have no idea how to get to you!”

They step in my direction and the fire increases.

“Hurry!”

They move again, and the fire eats a row of seats. That can’t be normal.

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Something roars within the fire, and the form moves faster. I open my mouth to yell for them to hurry when I notice how the fire moves around them, sticks to them. When the roar comes again, it’s because they have their mouth open and are the ones roaring.

Another roar echoes it, deeper into the fire.

I turn to run, but I have nowhere to go. I’m in the air, with what, a dozen meters to jump? My boosted endurance ran out. I don’t even know if I could have made that jump with it.

What a waste of a life.

I’m not dead yet, dad, I mentally growl. There’s a door on the side, closer to whatever that is than me. Those have slides, right? That’s what movies show, right? I just need to reach it before that fire thing reaches me.

Why did I have to run here?

I grab a broken seat and throw it at the creature as hard as I can, but it bats it away. I need something much heavier if I want a chance at this, but I see nothing that’ll work. It’s all melting plastic or aluminum. One of my weights is probably heavier than…

How do I get something out of my inventory?

System Query: Inventory

To access the inventory, open the inventory tab and will—

“Not the time!” I snap and shove the window out of my view. The thing isn’t moving fast, but it is approaching. I glance at the tab and my field of vision is filled with the page with my form, what I have in those slots, and my inventory slot. I saw ‘will’ and I hope looking at what I want and wanting it is enough.

The fifteen-kilo weight shimmers in my hand and I dismiss the window. I wind-up and throw it at that thing as hard as I can. The impact sends it into the fire and on its back. I run for the door.

Another steps out of the fire and the heat forces me to stop. It swings at me and even if it doesn’t come close to touching me, the red of my health bar drops slightly. The heat is that intense.

I eye the door, will another weight to my hand, and throw it; it ducks, and the weight vanishes within the fire. It steps toward me; I step back. Not the direction I want. I need something to give me range. I can’t keep throwing weights, I’m going to run out. It lunges at me and I will the only thing I can think of to my hand as I swing.

The barbell hits the side of its head and it drops, the fire over its body going away. I step forward and another one appears out of the fire. I swing and it dodges. The weight of the bar at the end of my extended arm nearly makes me lose my balance and I pull it back and take it in two hands. Thrusting an end at it and connecting with its stomach. It staggers back, and I push forward.

It is shoved at me and I hurry back as my health drops again. I’m down to what, a sixth? Numbers would be so much more practical.

Yes, you’d know just how quickly you’re going to die.

I thrust and swing, but put enough distance my health stops dropping.

Can I rush the door, figure out how to open it, and get the slide out, if there is even one, and jump out before the heat will burn away what I have left of my health?

I don’t need my father laughing at me to know it’s hopeless. I take the best grip on the barbell I can and ready myself. My father never intended to teach me this part, but enduring his treatment taught me to never yield. If I go down, I will go down fighting.

There are three of them now, holding positions. Are they waiting on me to attack? Nope.

They come at me and in three steps the heat is so much that I unwillingly take a step back as my health drops again, then I’m the one dropping as my foot doesn’t find the floor. I scream as freefall takes hold of me and brings me down faster than my father ever could.

Then I hit something cold and snow flies up around me. The shock invigorates me and I push myself to my feet using the barbell for support and then I push through a wall of loose snow until I’m outside and Terry is looking at me with awe and glee on his face.

Before I can ask what he’s doing here, a roar comes from above me and one of the fire-covered things jumps out of the plane. It lands in the snow and steam explodes around us. I back away and glance at my health. There is only a hint of red left. Any realistic representation of this much damage should have me unconscious.

“Chuck?” Elizabeth asks “what is that?”

I keep my eye on where it landed, the bar at ready the ready.

“Chuck?” she asks again.

“Not the time,” I snap, searching through the steam. The breeze finally breaks it apart and reveals a still form, the gray of ash, on dry ground.

“Hey, I got XP,” Terry exclaims. “Mom, you have to kill one too.”

Another roar and another one jumps down.

It crashes and I think we’re okay, then it stands.

Another roar comes, this one behind us, and whatever hope I had left sizzles away. I can’t take two at once. In my state, I probably can’t even—

Someone runs by me. I only make out bike leathers and green skin, then they’re on the fire thing, slashing at it with ferocity and abandon.

How? What? No, who. That’s Biker woman. How isn’t she getting burned alive?

The creature falls and I see she did get burned as she turned to face us. The leather’s nearly all gone and the clothes under it are burning too. A jet of water hits her, putting the fire out.

I look up. The third creature looks down at us, then retreats inside the fuselage.

“We should leave,” I say. I look at the middle section. Fire is coming out of both ends. Now I know for a fact no one can be left alive. I wish it wasn’t so, but as crazy as it’s become, reality still can’t be denied.

I look at Terry and his mother, who are staring at me. Before I can ask why, the light vanishes, and my father laughs mockingly as I lose consciousness.

* * * * * * * *

A question for the Readers

Who is the person Chuck rescued from the plane?

I purposely left it vague as I wrote this because I want to give you the chance to determine who they are. I'll pick among the suggestions in the comments, so give me your opinions for name, professions before the change, current class, and any other details you think would be interesting for them to have.