Overall, the cockpit of the plane looked surprisingly intact. Despite the vulnerability of its position, it seemed to absorb the impact of the crash better than the cabin had. A few loose items had been tossed around, Alexei noted. Gauges in the instrument panel were cracked and most of the glass was broken. The pilot, a hound she knew as Davis, was still in the cockpit, strapped in the pilot's seat. The ninety degree angle of the plane gave him the appearance of lying on his left side, allowing Alexei to see him only in profile as she crawled over the door. His eyes were closed; he was still. But she saw no obvious injuries, no blood on his uniform, and she allowed herself a moment of uncharacteristic optimism that he might still be alive.
"Please. Please be alive," she breathed placing her fingers on his neck to check for a pulse. She didn't feel one, but the position of her hand was unnatural in the cramped area, so she reached her hand around him to the other side. Her fingers encountered the warm, thick, stickiness of blood almost immediately, and she jerked her hand back in horror. Alexei's bloody fingers touched Davis' chin, pulling his face toward her as she leaned over him in an attempt to see the wound.
His head slid toward her with a freedom that was sickening, exposing to her view a large triangular shard of glass protruding from his throat. It had severed both bone and muscle, effectively decapitating him, save the thin layer of skin than stubbornly held his head to the right side of his body. He probably died before the plane stopped moving, Alexei thought. She released his chin, watching as his head bobbed unnaturally several times, then stilled, the blood continuing to flow from his neck into a pool on the wall beneath him.
You're losing it Alex, she warned herself. If you lose it now, you'll have no chance to save yourself or any other living passengers. The voice made sense, but the wave of panic rising within her was too strong to deny. She was alone. Alone in a wrecked plane. On a mountain. With a dead man.
She backed out of the cockpit as quickly as she could, distancing herself from the pilot's body, sitting down on the side frame of a seat and thrusting her head between her knees. She forced herself to inhale and exhale slowly. Don't faint, don't faint... But the dim ringing in her ears was already growing louder. Don't faint, Alex, you've got to get out of here.... White spots began to dance in front of her eyes, and the colors of the world seemed to dim all at once. She made a weak grab for the twisted seat beside her, swiping feebly through the air as she sank down into a displaced seat cushion. The blackness approached her quickly, picking up speed as the world spun in circles around her. Her last thought as she slipped into the abyss was that she had never fainted in her life.