"Great," Noah said. "Anything with a roof will do for me."
Noah slung his bag over his shoulder, then reached and grabbed Sawlaska. He then paused, slowly inhaled, then jumped off the helicopter and moved forward. Noah knew he wasn't that heavy, but any weight could send the helicopter tumbling off the edge. He remained in place, but didn't hear a cacophony of crashing metal below. He turned and saw the helicopter was still there. He let out a sigh of relief and chuckled.
"Oh man. That could have been the biggest disaster in my life since my last bleaching," he said to Hannah. "Alright. Let's bounce."
Noah walked away from the helicopter and Tara's remains and towards the stairs. All he wanted was a place to lie down in silence for the next thirty-six hours. He wasn't likely to get that, but considering he felt like shit, he would really appreciate some time to rest.
Noah sneezed again as he began to walk down. He wondered if anyone had ever died from a fever in SOTF. He wasn't sure how he'd feel if he would end up being the first.
((Noah Whitley continued in If We Could Have Tomorrow in Technicolor