DN - Gravel to Face

My feet hit the ground with a jarring impact I feel hard in my pelvis. We bounce once, twice, and then I’m running, great bounding strides that cover a dozen yards at a time, but the steps start to catch up with me, and just before I slip I set my legs and skid along the ground on my boots. My knees lock and almost instantly my feet start digging furrows in the concrete. A spray of gravel explodes up, fast and hard enough to dimple and dent all the metal skin around me. It’s like getting sandblasted in the face by a machine gun. The airliner’s nose pitches up into the air, and the tail slams into the ground. We skid for another seventy yards. My legs clench and tremble, sharp little bolts of jagged ice cutting through the broader ache of everything below my thighs.

Finally, we come to a sliding stop. With one last great heave of effort, I let the plane down gently on its right side and scramble out from underneath the fuselage on my hands and knees. I am unspeakably weary. My stomach suggests it might throw up. The pain is everywhere. When I try to get to my feet, I stumble and have to try again.

- Dreadnought, Chapter 11