By Katsuhiro Otomo
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Additional info for Akira Vol. 1, No. 4
A broken ankle out in the middle of nowhere. Actually, he'd broken his ankle before-last year, in fact, during the final soccer tournament against the Madison Warhawks-and this didn't feel as bad as that. His toes wiggled inside his boot without pain, and when he moved his knee, it didn't feel like the top of his head was coming off. That was what a broken ankle felt like. This just felt like a pinned ankle. In his mind, he re-created the look of the cockpit's floorboards and determined that he must somehow have gotten himself tangled up in the rudder pedals.
Maurice tried again, this time thrusting a matchbook-size cell phone at his guest. " "She's not expecting me," Teddy explained. " Maurice recoiled at the thought. "No kidding? She doesn't have a phone? " This was actually kind of fun. New territory to be explored. "She thinks they're the work of the devil," he said with a hearty laugh. Then, in his best old-lady voice he added, "I've been on this planet since nineteen and twenty-three and never once saw the need for a telephone. " That sounded pretty good, he thought.
Three! He lifted the clasp with his fingertips, and instantly, he dropped like an anvil, catching most of the impact on his neck and shoulders. Cody Jamieson howled as the aircraft trembled under the impact. The howl became a scream as the plane shifted again, this time taking on a bizarre yawing motion that Scott might have written off to dizziness from his head injury. Outside, a gust of wind pelted them, and the yawing and the screaming got even worse. Scott needed that flashlight. Sprawled flat on the ceiling now, he could just make out a blinking red light, barely bigger than a pinhead, but bright as a lighthouse in the near total darkness.