Farewell to JeremiahThomas Ray
Jeremiah was aflame. Purple smoke poured in through the gap in his roof, swirling around the cockpit as the plummeting ship spun in the air. Jake coughed violently, scrabbling desperately for the eject lever beneath his seat, but his fingers were apparently a little off. The lever was nowhere to be found. Through the violet haze and the ceaseless throb of his pounding pulse, Jake barely registered that Jeremiah was still screaming at him. Somehow.
"The lever is on the side you idiot! Come on, I thought you knew me better than this!"
The ship jerked to the side, ramming Jake's head against the window, and for a few seconds he saw nothing but vaguely shifting darkness. Those seconds gave him just enough time to understand what Jeremiah had said. The side. His fingers changed direction.
"So pull it, before we both die! Leave me behind, I don't care. You'll find another ship before you even start missing me, I'm sure, and then—" the sound of screeching metal interrupted him. For a moment Jake wondered if that was the last he'd hear from Jeremiah. Then, louder than before, a stream of rapid speech. "Oww! Goodness gracious that hurt. Not that it matters, we have ten seconds until impact. It was good knowing you, Jake. I hope you have a—"
"Likewise, pal, now shut up for once!" Jake's hand found the lever, fingers tightening around the metal cylinder. Then, before his ship could think up something else to say, he jerked the lever upwards, and the spinning world went dark with a sudden bang.
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