[h2][color=00aeef]Benson O'Hara
7:46 AM, The Big Island [/color][/h2]

It'd been a while, Benson could tell that. He called, and he called again, and yet he had not received a reply. His voice had grown hoarse, the morning sun had creeped higher into the sky and was staring down on him condescendingly. Whatever was keeping him going had faded, and a pain in his right leg had made itself obvious since he started down the beach. He took another breath, clenched his diaphragm, and shouted: [color=00aeef]"[b]Hey![/b]" [/color]

There was a brief silence. Somehow, Benson felt, that if no one replied, it'd be the end of him. He hoped with all of his hope.

[color=00a651]"I'm over here!"[/color] [@Fubsy]

He whirled around and saw a woman sprinting towards him.

[color=00aeef]"Son of a [b]bitch![/b]"[/color] He jogged towards the other survivor and stopped in front of her. He tried to think of something to say. Honestly, nothing really seemed appropriate. He was so relieved that whatever happened next, there was at least one other human being here with him.

What he ended up doing was shrugging his arms out wide, and letting his hands slap back down against his thighs. A gesture of indecision and gratitude.