All Chris could remember was the last conversation that she had with her dad, discussing the plans for when she arrived at her destination while boarding the plane. Now, as she looked around, she would see the front of the plane was smashed in and ripped in certain places, allowing for a blinding light to shine in her direction. the luggage slung from its' compartments, strewn about the floor. No wait, the roof, Chris was upside down. Checking the seatbelt that was currently holding her in place, she would find that it was jammed.
Mumbling very unladylike words under her breath, Chris would notice a man beside her, blood dripping from what looked like a shallow cut on his head. Giving him a nudge, Chris would get no response, but notice that his skin was just a tad cooler that what it should be. Stretching her arm out just a bit, she would place two of her fingers against his neck, feeling for a pulse. Her palms getting sweaty, she would realize that the man was dead.
Doing her best to keep calm, Chris would look up to find a small luggage bag in the compartment above her. Unfortunately, the belt was around her chest, not her waist, so she did her best to wiggle further up into the seat. The belt barely giving, she would manage to make her body slide up just a tad. Reaching up as far as she could feeling that her arm might come out of the socket if she reached any further, she would manage to get the strap of the bag, wiggle it around and make it fall into her lap- before it fell over her lap and into the foot of un-rising water. Once again, saying un-ladylike words, she would pause for a moment to think while looking herself over for injuries. Poking and prodding here and there, she would find nothing but a bloody nose.
Then the idea came to her. When she was little, her grandfather would carry around a pocket-knife on his person. Not that it was a actual stereotype for elderly men, but it was worth a shot. After all, she needed to do her best to save the people that were in the water. Feeling the pocket closest to her, she would find a small item that fit into the palm of her hand. Mashing a small button on the side of the object, she would find that it was indeed a pocket knife. Starting to slide the knife back and forth against the surface of the belt - the part that was at her waist- she would find herself free after about five minutes. Free falling for a short period of time, she would then find the pocket knife 1 inch from where it would have cut her hand, surrounded in the foot of water. On the bright side, it was cold compared to the heat of the day.
The few people that were in the water, she would use the rest of her force to push out of the liquid, hopefully saving them from drowning. With no other signs of life, she would walk out of the hole in the side of the plane into the bright sun. It was apparent that the plane landed in the water, then slid further onto the shore. Looking around, Chris would find herself surrounded by large trees', greenery and well.... everything green and brown. She could hear birds chirping, though did not see the creatures. Leaning up against the side of the damaged object, she would try to regain her sense of mind.

@Pripovednik

All Nicholas could remember was the plane going down and then darkness, when he awoke he saw that he had been saved by the most unlikely of things. A small luggage bag probably meant for a child had kept his head from slipping under the water he could feel underneath him as the shock faded, the horrible pain in his head reminded him he was alive but left his mind clouded. He had to feel around just to insure everything was still intact and that's when he found the shallow cut on his chest just next to his heart, it was bleeding but not badly so he could tend to that later he took in his surroundings and that's when he saw that the seats were upside down, which implied that his section of the plane flipped during the crash throwing it upside down. Which gave a bizarre almost surreal feeling of those still in their seats their heads above him, more than likely dead but a few could still be clinging to life he ignored them he needed air, somewhere where he could think and he found it in the hole of the plane. Hesitantly he made his way into the sunlight.

Nicholas stood in the entrance of the the hole torn through the craft and took in everything, the first thing of interest that Nicholas noted was the holes in the wing of the plane implying it had been shot down, the other thing was the distinct lack of people. He expected more people but there wasn't many, and then it hit him all at once through the fog of the headache, through the pain he was feeling. Whoever shot the plane down would be coming for them and spending most of his life around criminals he doubted they would be in a talking mood faced with this much loot they could walk away with so hesitantly he shouted. "Everyone, find cover!" He shouted, it only got a few people looking his direction the other shell shocked survivors pressed on ignoring him so he shouted once more. "Everyone hide, the plane didn't crash by accident whoever did this is coming for us!" Before he hopped out of the hole and went looking for a place to hide.

The thick brush tickled Elro's tattoe drowned arms as he took another calculated step, letting the leaves beneath his boot sink into the soft earth under them, he let his weight rest on his leg and leaned forward. Through the maze of tall trees and winding undergrowth, a lone boar stood by a fresh puddle, sniffling as it drank from the pale water. Pushing aside a stray branch with his hand - a small click exploded with noise and swept over the silence.

Elro froze.
Every muscle in his body tightening, unblinkingly he stared at his prey, at the point he had to strike, the wound he would inflict, the artery he would cut. The boar stared back, seeing only the mass of leaves and the rough bark of the trees, searching for the source of noise. Its hairy ears pointed, moving its head this way and that, it was agitated - it's heartbeat increased. When finally it dropped its head back into the puddle Elro slowly let the breath he had held out, searching the cluttered floor for a stone to throw. His hands rolled over a something hard, picking it up he raised his head and prepared to throw.

The puddle lay on the floor alone, and in the shrubs behind it, the rear of a boar darted between the roots of the trees.

"Shit." He breathed frustratingly.

Pushing off the leg he was resting Elro planted his other in the ground and jumped the moss-covered boulder that stood in his way, the puddles still water fired into the air as he flew over it. Racing through the labyrinth of branches and endless greens and browns, sharp twigs cutting his skin as he ran, he gritted his teeth and pursued his prey. The leaves sunk beneath his feet and the roots reached out to trip him, but he determinedly fought on, his breathing becoming faster and his knees rising higher. As he ran he pulled his dagger from his belt and his spear from his back, and as he reached back for the spear he saw a competitor.

A black wolf ran alongside him, unaware of his existence - diving between the static life of the forest, like him it was chasing a meal. Driving his legs harder, he wasn't going to let it sink its teeth into flesh before he had his chance to, but it was getting ahead. The boar was at least 300m ahead but he was gaining, and it had stopped on the edge of the river, the animals of the island knew better than to pass into crocodile territory - even when they are in danger. Elro was beginning to tire, but he drew closer 200m - 150m - 100m - 50m. Raising his spear onto his shoulder he ran a few steps more and with a twist of his hips and a powerful final step he sent his arm over his head, following the spear tip with his arm as he threw it. Dipping slightly the spear streaked through the branches, cutting leaves apart and narrowly missed the trees themselves.

It struck its target with a soft slicing noise, followed by the thud of a motionless body.

The boar squealed at the dead body of the wolf beside it, a long wooden pole sticking from its chest and its eyes wide open. Taking advantage of the boar’s state of shock Elro closed the slight gap that was left and stabbed into its neck and twisted - it let out a hoarse gasp and then fell limp on his blade.

Pulling his dagger from its corpse he took the cloth from his pocket and covered the wound, wrapping it tight, then threw it over his shoulder. Heaving the spear from his unsuccessful competition, he kicked the wolf into the water and walked back into the forest. After a few steps he heard the thrashing and splashing from the river, but didn't look back.

Reaching the hunting trail a few minutes later - he tied the dead boar to the back of his bike with some weathered rope and straddled the leather seat, kicking the engine into life in one brisk motion, he checked his phone.

'Planes hit the shore, take care of it.'

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he pushed his black helmet onto his head, revved the engine and set off with the slightest of skids in the dirt; Elro shot up the crude trail to get his boys together.

Rachel's eyes slowly opened, a small splash of water hit her face and entered her mouth causing her to gargle and spit the water was salty. "Ugh." She spat her mind was surreal she hadn't yet grasped onto the situation, however the salty water had woken her from her concussed state.

"How.. How.. How how how, wh-.." She was hyperventilating and couldn't speak. Her senses began to return, first she noticed the water was worm but something she lay on was cold and metallic, next she noticed a small stream of blood was trickling down from her head, over her face and droplets were falling from her chin onto her clothing and into the water. Her thoughts changed to her boyfriend, he was with her on the plane but now she lay on a piece of wreckage floating in the water alone. "Eric.. Eric!" She sat up on the metallic sheet it's edges sharp like a coke can ripped in two.

"Please, Eric.. Where are you." She felt tears rolling down her face, the left followed the same blood stream and merged with it. "Help me." She whispered the last out of helplessness, as if praying. She sat still on her make shift raft for ten minutes, the sun had shifted very slightly, but the current was pulling her closer to land and she didn't feel like giving much of her energy to helping it. "All this.. What is all this for?" The sights had overwhelmed her, bodies floated some limbless in the water almost turning it red.

Thomas felt water against his arm. It was cold, and some was on his clothes too. He didn't hear anything, except for the sound of water. Thomas opened his eyes to the bright sun, making him squint his eyes. He looked around without sitting up, and noticed that he was floating in the sea on some luggage. Shit, he thought, the plane really did crash. Thomas felt for his kippah, letting out a sigh of relief when he felt it, although it was slightly damp.

Thomas slid off of the luggage he was on, and grabbed some to help him stay afloat. He looked around. He could see the plane on an island in the distance, and there was a piece of metal not too far away from him. He swam over to it - continuing to use the luggage as a floating aid - and climbed onto it. It was warm, but the water was cooling it, so it was fine to be on. He looked away from the island, and saw that there was a body. He didn't know if they were alive or not, but it was worth a shot.

"Hey!" he called, waving his arms about, "Are you okay!?"

Thomas didn't know if his efforts to contact the person were futile. Even if they were alive, they might not be able to hear him. After a minute or two, Thomas decided to sit down again, and see if he could spot his luggage.

Eric sat up and pulled the soft covers off of him, seeing Rachel lying silently there in the bed gave him a feeling of comfort as he walked over to the bathroom. His hand reached for the light blindly and clicked it on before he walked over to the sink and started the warm tap. Looking into the glossy mirror of the white cabinet he saw that he was developing a nice little beard.

Rachel hated that, so he opened the small door and reached in grabbing the razor and foam. Testing the water, it was just getting warmish, so he pressed down on the foam can and caught the white flush that rushed out in his other hand. He pressed it onto his chin and jaw, covering over his facial rough. As he blinked he could of swore he saw a large red gash in his forehead, but when he looked again confused, he had no such blight on his face.

Pushing the confusion aside he poked the stream of water and felt it burn him, pulling back he nodded to himself and stuck the razor into the water. He shaved his left jaw carefully then right, chin then pulling his top lip between his teeth - he shaved that too. Dipping the foamy razor into the water, he washed it away and looked up to see his shaven face covered in cuts and drips of blood. Touching a cut on his chin, the foam on his hands and what was left on his face turned a dark crimson, quickly looking back into the mirror all he saw was the glossy reflection of himself, with clinically white foam on his hands and face.
Touching his face once more he looked at his hand and didn't see any red.
Weird.
"What the..." he said under his breath. Taking the small hand towel from the side of the sink he brushed away the foam from his face and splashed cool water over himself, to close his pores. Turning he took his pyjama top off him threw it over to the laundry bin and climbed out of his pants. Reaching down he took off his left sock, and then his right...
His right sock snagged on something. Looking down there was nothing there, so he sat on the edge of the bath and took the sock in both hands, pulling it off. It caught on something again, but there was nothing there! Reaching down he felt around the sock and cut his finger on something sharp, pulling back his sucked on the wound, and closed his eyes in pain as his entire body seemed to throb with aches.
When he looked back down at his foot a large sharp metal fragment was stuck through it, and the arm he was holding against his body was covered in scratches. His left shoulder ached as well, a large dark cut through it.

"Rachel...!" he said, standing up. Eric slipped on the smooth bathroom floor, and struck his head hard on the bath tub. When he came to, he was upside down in a plane, Rachel was gone and his shoulder and foot were screaming out in pain.

Blood dripped off his shaven face and onto the floor.

Rachel turned her head slowly towards the sounds of a voice she could see a man floating on another piece of debris much like herself, he was very much alive but he wasn't Eric, so she turned away and stayed sitting silently on the metallic raft. "My bracelet... Where is it?" She whispered and felt her heart begin to race as she spotted that the silver piece of jewelry that Eric's mother had given her was missing from her wrist, she began to search around on top of her sheet of metal for it frantically yet she found nothing, instinctively she decided it must of fallen off into the water and without hesitation she dropped herself in.

The deep dark ocean normally terrifying for someone who wasn't the strongest swimmer, but instead of panic Rachel swam slowly towards the core of darkness, she couldn't be certain that she was actually hunting for the bracelet or was happy that her life should end here.

As Thomas looked around, he saw that there was a bracelet on the top of some luggage. This could be important to someone, he thought. He jumped into the water, and swam a meter or two over to it, and grabbed it, putting it onto his wrist. As Thomas went back onto the piece of metal, he saw that the person he had seen earlier jump into the water. Or fall. He couldn't tell. He decided to see if they needed help, and jumped into the water, swimming over to them.

As he swam, he noticed that it was hot, and that his shirt was slowing him down. Thomas started to tread water, and pulled his shirt off. It was ripped anyway, serving as little protection from the sun. He pulled it off, revealing his pale, slim torso. He noticed he had some scratches and a couple of bruises, but they didn't bother, so he continued swimming. Thomas hoped that he didn't need to save the person from drowning.

The deeper she got the darker the water got and her chest began to constrict, her lungs felt like they were going to be sucked out through her throat however she wanted to keep going and going until the world became silent but her pain and fear was too great, she swam harder and faster than she thought she could, the water became brighter as she climbed, the sun shafts from the sky began to ripple through like the hand of god telling her to keep moving.

She surfaced, her eyes first momentarily blinded by the bright sun above, she climbed slowly back onto the piece of debris she had only a few minutes ago fell from. "Why." She whispered to herself why lying on top and looking up at the clouds above. "Why do I live, while others have died." She just lay silently sobbing.

Thomas continued swimming, his breathing becoming heavier. He wasn't used to swimming like this, with the sun on his back, in jeans, and with the waves moving him about. He stopped for a moment, around three quarters of the way to the person. They - who Thomas could now see was a she - had climbed back onto their piece of metal. At least she wasn't drowning, Thomas thought to himself. Thomas continued swimming over towards the woman.

After a couple minutes of swimming, Thomas managed to reach the woman on her metal. She was lying on whatever i was, and Thomas didn't think that she knew he was there. After a minute of catching his breath he spoke, "Hey, you alright?" he asked.

Dirt and sand jumped up frantically from the rough track, reaching for the dark clouds above as Elro sped past the endless trees on either side of him. Shifting his weight to one side and applying the brake he suddenly skidded around the corner, narrowly missing a crop of rocks, before hastily rejoining the track. It took a few more turns until he saw his encampment, the high fence and the watch towers felt welcoming – the dirt bikes and jeeps were also comforting.

He didn’t slow down as he approached; the lookouts rushing to open the gate as the cloud of dust loomed closer, the gruff purr of an engine rolling along with it.

As Elro darted through the gap between the two retracting fence doors he had to jink right sharply as the left door lagging behind, and he felt his shoulder brush against the gate for a moment before he was passed and clear. He was admittedly in a good mood, but if you can’t open a damn gate properly you need to be taught a lesson. The boys knew that he didn’t like to be disappointed – and he particularly hated having to throw out a perfectly good leather jacket.

Cutting the engine, he rolled the bike slowly into the nearest space amongst its painted brothers and pulled his helmet off, throwing it to the ground with a crash as he inspected his jacket.

One lengthy slash along the left forearm.

Taking the ruined jacket off he grabbed it in his left hand and marched over to the line of jeeps. Instructing the boys to refuel and ready up , he told the nearest man to go get the shit that had messed up the gate.

He took a seat on one of the wooden benches outside the emptying common room, pulling a cigarette out and lifting the lighter from his pocket. As he lit the tip, the shit walked over to him.

“What’s your name?” He asked, between a long inhale of the intoxicating fumes.

“Mickil, Sir,” a soft whimper in his voice.

“Do you know what this is, Mickil?” Elro asked, waving to the jacket by his side.

“No sir.” He was scared, Elro sensed it as he took another long breath of nicotine.

“This is the jacket of mine you just ruined.” Elro said, staring into Mickil's eyes as he began to fidget, smoke rising up past his own dark eyes.

“Sorry Sir, I don’t... I mean, I never meant... If I can do anything, I...” He was stuttering now. Was he trying to piss Elro off?

“Shut up. Here.” He shoved the jacket into the young man’s hands. “It’s yours now.”

The boy looked confused - he was expecting something far worse than a gift, but he flashed an awkward smile and thanked Elro. He began to make his way back to his post when Elro stopped him.

“Aren’t you going to put it on?” He asked. The boy knew better than to think this was a question and quickly pushed his arms in, shaking the jacket into place - it barely fit his scrawny body.

“Boys? Boys! Come here.” Elro called to the men surrounding the jeeps, summoning them over to his side. They came over, still holding conversations and some even laughed among themselves. Taking the last of the life from his cigarette, he flicked it at the group.

“Shut it! Now... What do we think?” Elro pointed to the jacket which hung loosely off of Mickil's shoulders, his head dropped slightly in shame.

A few of the boys laughed, others teased with mock compliments, but all were cut short when Elro stood suddenly – walking over to the boy. Taking the dagger from his belt he gripped it by the handle.

The boy was shivering now.

“Do you think this ruins the look?” he asked as he pointed the tip of the blade at the long unsightly tear down the left arm. He grabbed the boy's shoulder tightly.

None of the men said anything.

“What about now..?” he said softly and without looking, took the right sleeve and cut a similar line through it. “Matching arms, right?” Elro looked across the silent gang, all of them looking on in suspense.

“No? Maybe something like this then...” He stabbed into the jacket hard, pushing the dagger to one side so that it missed the boy by the width of a hair. Mickil winced and almost jumped back, but chose against it. Elro pulled the dagger down, the scratching sound as the material ripped slicing through the silence.

“Fashionable, is it not?” He exclaimed loudly as he took a few steps back and turned to face the boy. “Well? What do you think boys?”

A few murmurs floated around but no one spoke up.

“I said, what do you think?” He screamed this time, his voice bouncing of the closely packed stone walls of the encampment buildings.
This time a handful of men raised their voices high enough for Elro to hear them. A mixture of comments from the startled lot met his ears, but none were what he was looking for.

“No, no... It needs something else I think.” As he said this Elro crossed his arms, frowning as he stared at Mickil, draped in a mangled brown leather jacket, very out of place. He stood like this for a few minutes.

“I know!” Elro said suddenly. Pulling his pistol from his hip he shot three consecutive shots into the boy’s chest and watched as the blood flowed out and down the jacket, slowly he fell forwards, his face impacting with the dirt.

“Just needed a splash of colour.” Elro said, putting his pistol back on his hip and walking back over to the jeeps. "C'mon boys, roll out!".

Laura woke up, disoriented and dazed. The environment was strange and unfamiliar to her as her eyes gradually focused on the surroundings. Her ears gradually picked up the sound of water. As she tried to move her body, she realised that half of her body was underwater. Then it all came back to her, the accident. The plane crashing as it plummeted towards the surface. She was lucky to even be alive. Not many others had such luck. It was then that she heard the groaning of the twisted metal wreckage as it groaned, threatening to sink ever so slowly into the water, blocking her path.

She began to panic, before remembering the saying her brother had often used to say. "Only when one is calm, can one overcome adversity." She began to calm down, as her brains worked overtime, figuring a way out of this mess. Her first thought was to submerge herself underwater, taking a look at the situation underwater.

Thankfully, there was a gap between the wreckage submerged underwater. This would where the swimming lessons her father had forced her to learn, would come in handy. Swimming to the gap, she curled herself as small as she could, struggling to fit herself within the gap. Eventually managing to squeeze through the gap, she swam clear of the wreckage, surfacing and taking a deep breath.

With no options left to her other than to lie on the cold metal and await death. Without warning a man emerged from the water, shirtless in another situation Rachel would have joked about how she had fallen into a dream where she was in an aftershave commercial, instead she jumped out of her skin and fell from the makeshift raft. "Where did you come from?" She asked her heart still pounding fast, now clung onto the side of the metal, her small finger actually being cut by the sharp edge and a small cloud of red formed around it.

He asked if she was okay, what a joke that was. "How could anyone be okay with this situation!" She almost felt herself yelling, perhaps to earn some respect after being shocked by his arrival.

Thomas wasn't surprised that the woman had been angry, they weren't in a very safe position. Thomas put both of his forearms on the metal, the bracelet that he found clanging on the metal. "I just swam from some of the wreckage," he told the woman, "We should probably get to dry land."

Chris Fisher

As Chris woke up, some guy was yelling at everyone to hide, saying afterwards that the plane was shot down and whoever is responsibble surely is looking for them. Chris however, was too groggy to pay attention to him as he struggled to get up but realised that the seat belt was stuck. As he took some time to survey his surroundings Chris saw that the plane split in two and that the roof was now the floor and viceversa. The plane was one big wreck and it seemed to be sinking too. There were dead people everywhere and luggage scattered all over the place. He didn't remember much from the crash. Except for the fact that something hard hit his head as the plane was crashing and that he just blacked out. He quickly grabbed the back of his head as a great pain hit him out of nowhere. "Aww fuck!" He muttered as he closed his eyes, squeezing he back of his head with his left hand. After the pain got away a little, Chris tried to get loose as he gripped the seat belts again in an effort to open them. After about a minute he realized that he's just wasting his time and tried to look around him to see if there was something sharp enough to cut the seat belts with.

As he looked around Chris saw some shards of glass from some nearby broken window as he reached with his right hand to grab the one that was the closest but barely touched it's tip. Angered, he started pushing himself towards the glass shard although the chair which he was strapped to was very heavy. After three attempts he finally managed to get to a reasonable distance as he grabbed the glass shard and started cutting the seat belts. It took a long time to cut those damn seat belts but eventually after about five minutes Chris finally managed to get himself loose as he rised up and headed to the hole. As he got out through the hole Chris started looking around with amazement. The place was undoubtably beautiful. A tropical island that would make a perfect vacation. Too bad the circumstaces weren't exactly fit for something like that right now. Then Chris headed back to the hole and took one more look inside. There was no way he could find his luggage in all that mess. All he had on him was his wallet with some money and his ID, a pair of car keys and the clothes he was wearing...blue jeans, a pair of black low-top sneakers and a grey t-shirt.

Curious he headed towards the wing of the plane, the one that set on fire and caused the plane to crash and indeed it looked like it was shot. Apparently the crazy guy was telling the truth. Then Chris ran towards his hiding place and sat besides him. "So tell me! Do you have any idea who shot us down and why? I mean...let's face it, this was a psassenger plane not a military one." Said Chris to the guy.

Leland Abbot comes to vaguely aware of the taste of saltwater and grit in his mouth. Rolling himself over and sitting up, he notices he is soaked to the bone. Checking his pockets, he is annoyed to find his boarding pass has become a mass of pulp in his hiking shirt pocket. Thankfully he still has his wallet with his ID, an intact wad of Australian dollars, and most importantly his frequent flyer club card. Feeling some moisture trickle down his face he wipes it off with his shirt sleeve, and winces as he accidentally rubs sand into a cut on his cheek. Staring at the blood on his sleeve, he numbly mutters "What the...". His mind still in a haze, he knocks some shell fragments off his shirt before stating "I better get a plaster on this before more sand gets in."

He tries standing up but a sharp pain in his left leg sends him off balance as he plops back down on his rear. He unzips the leg on his cargo pants and rolls it up to get a better view. An ugly mark stares back on him. "Looks like a bruise, but what happened?". Now more alert, Leland notices that he is no longer on the plane, but about half a football field away from its partially submerged remains at the end of a gouge in the shell laden beach. He spots several people crawling out of the wreckage, and a man shouts something that Leland can't quite make out.

Leland shouts back "WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU! SPEAK UP!", but the man had already scrambled back into the plane. "Damnit what was he going on about?"

Slowly, Leland stands up, gritting as he powers through the pain in his leg. After getting his balance, he begins limping towards the wreckage.

As the water cleared from her face she instantly regretted raising her voice, he was young far younger than she had first anticipated. "Ah.." She winced at the cut on her finger. She felt sadness for the boy, he was too young to experience something so horrible, the dead floating in the water turning it red, this truly was like a living horror movie, she noticed herself drifting away and looking once again out to the sea where the dead lay and at that moment she knew that she couldn't wallow in pity but instead she had to put a brave face on for this boy, she had to at the very least be able to help someone, perhaps that would give her some relief from the pain of hopelessness.

"Your right, we should get moving." She said smiling at the boy, "What should I call you then?" She spoke softly and began to peddle her feet hard pushing the metallic piece of debris towards the coast.

Elro felt the soft bumps travel through his body as the off road jeeps ran along the rough dirt road, further into the centre of the island it was a bit more civilised , but here everything is pre-historic. The jeeps interior was too cramped for him, so all the windows were open, sure the grit blew in with the wind, but it calmed his nerves.

In the centre of the convoy, his jeep was a dark brown unlike all the other pale yellow jeeps that surrounded it, but all the vehicles whipped dirt into the air. Fourteen men and four jeeps, two motorcycles. This was more than enough to deal with the situation, as well as take the salvage back to base.

Taking his dagger from his belt, Elro began to pick the pork from between his teeth, scraping across a molar and between his front teeth. As they drew nearer he signalled the drive to stop and he hit his horn so that the others did so too, the motor carried on though – as they were meant to – to take up a sniping position.

While they owned the island, the law enforcement on the main land were determined to crush them. They have a small fort on the opposite island that has proved impossible to conquer, after many attempts the group have met nothing but a hailstorm of bullets and an impossibly large concrete wall.

Wiping such thoughts from his mind Elro stepped out of the jeep and walked towards the beach, breaking through the trees he saw the planes smoke from behind the rock formation a mile down the sand. The jeeps drove through the trees and onto the beach.

“Out! We walk from here!” He commanded.

Taking his pistol in hand, he strolled along the beach on this sunny day, the sand beneath his feet and salvage before him.