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Everything was silent. The world had clammed up and had nothing more to say to him. He felt weightless, drifting through the emptiness that encased his body, absorbing his flesh into it's unending depths. He felt his grip on reality slowly fading away, until the realization that his body hadn't yet ceased it's functioning hit him square in the face, and he felt his arms began to claw at the liquid surrounding him, trying to drag himself out of depths that pulled at his very being. His hands felt a lighter, colder sensation, and his arms smashed at the surface of the water, forcefully dragging himself from the maw of the ocean. His bangs were plastered over his eyes, he could barely see, but he didn't need to to be able to flail his arms about in a desperate attempt to keep him on the surface. Panic was beginning to set in, as his fear of the very entity he swam in began to fill his mind, and a small cry of fear erupted from his lungs. He wanted out, he wanted out right now! Where could he go though? The aircraft was long gone. He was stranded in the middle of the pacific ocean, weighed down, and not a strong swimmer to boot. His head went under, and his arms began to flail again, digging himself out of the sea once more, spitting out the salt filled water with a choked gasp. His arms were beginning to tire, and the seeping cold of the ocean was finally starting to set in. His clothes were weighing him down, and his arms were beginning to slow down. He didn't want to die like this. His body began to sink, and his eyes gazed back up at the slowly fading surface. His lungs were beginning to fill with water. He could see the bubbles left behind from his final sigh of terror, drifting upwards from his mouth. His arm reached out one final time, reaching for the surface, the air, the life he was losing.

His fingers brushed against something, and his hand closed around the grip. Solid. It was floating. The water burst apart like a dormant volcano reigniting. His body slumped over his savior, a medium sized suit-case, and clung to it, his entire body shaking, not just from the freezing wetness of the ocean and his drenched clothes, but how close he had just come to dying in one of the worst ways he could imagine. He needed to get out, and he needed to soon. The suit-case wasn't going to float forever, it would eventually yield to the water slamming against it, and sink. His twitching hand brushed his bangs from his eyes, and, not far in the distance, he could see what almost looked like...

"...Land." The half choked whisper came out.

His body filling with adrenaline, he began kicking, propelling himself and his makeshift life-raft towards the only possible means of survival in any direction. The waves fought him the entire way, trying to capsize him, knock him over, slow his process. He didn't even realize when he feet ran up against the ground of beach, not until he felt the suitcase catch, halting his movement. Groggily, the man's legs began to work, as his limbs worked together to stand himself up, moving away from the waves against the beach, stumbling once, and then falling over. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the unforgiving sky above him, his body heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He felt weak, limp, and lifeless, but the rapid beating of his heart and then heavy breaths of his lungs were enough to convince him that he still lived. He didn't lie there long, but he was there long enough to hear the staggered footsteps, and the cry for answers a few feet away. His fingers dug into the grains of sand, scooping it up into a ball in his hand, before releasing it without a second thought. His body slowly recovering from the trauma of being forced into his worst fear and nearly dying to it, he sat upright, running his bangs through his hand, trying to shift them to the side. His voice was calm, but slightly forced.

"We don't panic for one." His tone made him sound far more hostile then he had actually meant to be, but he couldn't take it back now.

He finally managed to stand back up, brushing the sand off his back with a trembling hand. Eric's mind was still recovering, but he could focus enough to run a statistic on their situation. Him and the woman didn't seem to be the only survivors of the crash, and there were no other landmasses anywhere from their vantage point. His trench coat dripped, bringing him back to reality. He was drenched through, and from the looks of his fellow survivor (s) they were too.

"...I think the first order of business is to get out of these clothes..." He instantly regretted his words.

"Confidence," said the mother, braiding up the young girls hair in front of a mirror. "Confidence," she repeated, "is key to everything. You'd be surprised what people can get away with if they act like they belong. You, my little angel, must be confident on the stage." The little girl said nothing, listening patiently.

"You must act like you belong everywhere you go. Then, you will." The light brown hair's pattern grew more and more intricate as her delicate, agile fingers wove in an out of the strands, an artist at work. The room was softly lit, warm, glowing digitally lit oil lanterns mounted on the walls. The little girl was seated on a small, red-cushioned wooden stool, the mother leaned behind her, still looming over the little one.

"Is that lying?" The little girl asked quietly.

"No, my dear. It's not lying if you make it the truth." Her mother responded cooly. The little girl thought on this for a long, long, long while.

-

Veronica had washed upon shore, limp as a ragdoll. Face up, entire body drenched in water, her clothes torn asunder in various places, scrapes and cuts visible on the exposed skin. The largest cut, however, was on the back of her head, matting up her hair with blood. The wound looked bad, as it painted small flecks of crimson upon the beige sand beneath her head. Most likely non-fatal, but it was hard to tell.

Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, chest slowly rising and falling as she made an unpleasant, airy, sucking noise, oblivious to the world around her.

-

The little girl glanced down at the bird. It wasn't moving. The sun was setting, and the bird flew into the glass and fell down, and did not take back up again.

"Hey, sweetheart," her father said, concerned, rushing over after seeing what had happened. "Don't worry about that."

"What's wrong with it?" Veronica said, her voice cracking.

"Nothing dear, nothing. It's okay." He directed her away from the sight. He hesitated, though. Maybe she was old enough, after all.

"That bird...died. Sweetie." He said, sadly. She looked up at him with wet eyes.

"It's when someone..." he continued. "Or something, gets very, very hurt, or very, very old, it goes to sleep. Forever. Then, they go to heaven."

"Forever?" She asked. "That's really sad." Tears, at this point. He kneeled down.

"Hey, no, it's okay. It's a part of life. It really is. Otherwise, you just live forever. Isn't that kind of boring?" He asked. The little girl thought on this for a long, long, long while.

-

Foam bubbled out the woman's parted lips, the airy noise growing more dire and rattling. Water, the giver of all life on the planet, overwhelming one of it's creations as it so loves to do. Playfully tickling the woman's bare feet, for it was all a game to the indomitable element. From a distance, it look like as if an attractive, shoddily dressed woman was bathing in the sun. If not for the pieces of scattered ruin luggage on the beach and in the water, and the horrid noise coming from her throat as one approached, the illusion would be complete. Veronica had always liked the beach.

Pain. Every motion was pure agony. Pulling and pushing, forcing his way towards the shore. The burning was excruciating, every little movement felt as if needles were being pushed deeper into his arms. Exhaustion set in after escaping the plane, jumping over people to get to the exit then swimming as far away to avoid being sucked down with the others. It was an amazing feat to just escape that. Floating on his back allowed for a brief rest in the middle of the ocean, then he saw the island. That was when the pain started. Colton was not a young man, so even with escaping the plane with only minor injuries he still did not think he would survive floating much longer. So, it was pushing himself to the brink or risk drowning alone. Pushing through the pain all throughout his body, he was making it. Others were floating by clearly unconscious or unable to swim, but that was their problem. Keeping a calm mind in dangerous situations is key, focus on one goal at a time. Make it to the island. The first wave that overtook him was a surprise leaving him gasping for air. The second one was worse, sending him down to the ocean floor smashing against coral cutting his arm open and ripping skin on his hand. Able to reorient after the hit, he was able to use the waves to his advantage.

Sand, at last, he made it. Finally flipping over to his back looking into the sky. The sand felt more like a bed than anything he had ever slept on before. Just a moment to rest, then he could address the situation. Just… one… moment. His eyes slowly closed as his feet stayed in the ocean the sun beating down on the pale Alaskan native. In sleep was the only time he found true peace, he finally drifted to sleep thinking about how proud he was to at least outlasted his father.

A voice? Suddenly Colton’s eyes shot open, he heard someone talking. Rolling over onto his chest he began to get up, suddenly feeling a sharp pain in his left arm. He quickly grabbed onto it realizing it was covered in blood. He mumbled “Fuck.” In exhausted defeat. Then he heard another voice, this one deeper. “Fuck.” He said with a bit of excitement behind it. There were people here to rescue him. He suffered through his pain slowly pushing his way up to his knees. One foot up then the other. Walking was agony, but he needed to find those voices. As he rounded the bend he saw them. Instantly he could tell from their torn clothes and look of distress that they too were from the plane. He did not greet them or acknowledge them. He just slowly sat back down, he was done.



Air finally began to fill her lungs, instinctively breathing in as much as she could once she awoke. As all of the air entered her lungs the water she inhaled began to come back up. Vomiting ensued with a coughing fit after. Sophia looked around realizing she was on an island, her confusion only mounted when she noticed she was holding onto a plane seat. It must have saved her life, keeping her afloat as she passed out in the ocean. All at once the confusion and worry went away, replaced by excruciating pain. “Ahhhhgg, shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” The young redhead screamed in anguish as she rolled off the seat and onto the sand. Looking down she could see that her right leg was red and inflamed. She groaned loudly before letting her head fall back into the sand allowing her body to try to get used to the pain.

Turning her head she saw something, among the luggage from the plane that floated in. “Hey!” She called out in desperation. “Hey! I hurt my leg real bad! I need help!” Her scream came out hoarse as she desperately tried to get the woman’s attention. “Can you hear me!?” Sophia desperately tried to get the woman’s attention, but it seemed in vain. Sophia stared at the woman, seeing her chest slowly go up and down, but no movement otherwise. “You have to be kidding me,” Sophia grumbled to herself realizing that the woman needed her to help instead of the other way around.

The plan was to place both her legs onto the wet seat and tightening the straps to prevent them from moving around while she made her move. Obviously, it worked better in her mind. Getting her left leg up was easy. When it came to the right leg however that involved a lot more tears, screams and profanity. Finally securing her legs she was able to move across the sand on her belly towards the passed-out woman. It was smart to secure them. Dragging her leg across the warm sand would have been much worse especially with the distance. It took longer but required fewer breaks.

Sophia stared at the woman with foam beginning to bubble out of her lips. She was drowning. Sophia quickly went over what she learned in her lifeguarding class in high school. Shifting her weight again the pain struck her causing her to freeze in mid-motion. Looking back down at the drowning woman, she was her only hope. Fighting through the pain Sophia managed to get balanced on her knees avoiding to much pressure on her right leg. Reaching down to the woman’s head she tilted her chin backward and leaned over to give her five rescue breaths. Sophia kept her eyes closed blowing hard into the unconscious woman’s mouth, trying to get oxygen into her lungs. Pulling away and whipping her lips she tried to remember what came next. “Compressions.” She mumbled to herself while placing her hands on the woman’s chest. Repeatedly pushing on her chest trying to keep the woman alive. Sophia noticed that the woman’s eyes finally opened. Instinctively Sophia tilted the woman to her side knowing that all that water swallowed was now needing to come back up. “You’re ok now. I think…”

The crowded place made Angela feel uncomfortable again. She felt the same uncertainty that someone would feel whey they are about to have a big decision but she wasn't taking one, she was only choosing a coffee flavor.

A simple task.
No need to make a mental haiku about it. And even though she knew it was a simple one, she was stuck: facing complicated coffee names, holding this empty cup and not smelling any difference on any on the hundreds of grains being melted in front of her.

"Are you okay, baby?"
Asked Andrew, his hand laying on her shoulder, his bright smile conforming her and his golden hair shining in the coffee shop.

"It's fine" She answered "I just felt dizzy, for a moment."

He took another look at her and for a second she thought he would say something but he didn't, he took his phone out of his pocket. Checking a message he just received. He looked worried for a second and then, he just looked different - a version of himself in a photography, just a shadow of a thought.

Suddenly, Angela dropped the cup. The object sliding from her hand and falling in slow motion until it finally broke on the floor. The unfinished cappuccino spilling around the remains of the cup, the back leaking out of the porcelain and the waves of the drink washing her away.

And then the waves were no longer black but blue. Infinite blue.
She grasped for air as her head emerged out of the water, her eyes burning with the brightness harshly shining over her. She couldn't understand: she was tired, her right leg burning and there was this weird noise inside her ear. Nothing made sense.

There were several objects and obstacles among the waves around her. For some stupid reason she thought about mocha latte. And before she could even remind herself of the plane and the crash she felt bubbles forming around her and giving her the terrifying thought that whatever was underneath her was going to be deep down forever.

Was she traveling? Yeah, she was!
To where?
She started swimming, hitting her palms and arms violently against the water and the sea fought back, pulling her and drifting her away from the land. Her vision was half blurred by the amount of water washing her eye balls, but it was impossible to swing with closed eyes: too many objects to avoid, she was too scared of never getting to the beach. And so Angela kept swimming and the salt kept burning till the point her tears combined themselves with the ocean.

The shore received her as an old friend and for a second she thought she would be able to make it. Her legs relaxed against the solid ground and her body collapsed against the white sand.
When she looked up, the clouds and the sky bared an intrusive appearance - the weird non existent God laughing at the irony she was experience, a bad joke told during a funeral.

And so she kept starring at it and her imagination screamed for answers and for a conclusion when all that she could hear was the weird noise inside her ear. Saving Private Ryan first scene was nothing compared to her trajectory till that point of the beach.

Eventually, Angela got up. Sand glued to her body and the wound of her leg not hurting that much anymore, it was probably irritated by the salty water.
And as every island ever - there was a forest just a few meters away from the sea. Not really inviting, not really safe.

A quick look on some of the plants brought doubts to her mind: it couldn't be Hawaii, some of the sea weed was too exotic even to that place. She never discarded the idea completely though cause she had learned a long time ago that nature works in mysterious ways.
Looking to the west she saw a dark spot in the ocean: a coral reef. Australia had them but the sun incidence and the vegetation growth couldn't be more wrong. She was on Asia. Somewhere.

The botanist sat close to the water again. Adrenaline rushing down and making her a lot more tired than she felt she was. Her blue eyes caught a glimpse of fire coral on the beach, probably washed away by the plane crash and she understood that the little fucker had some participating in nature's crimes against her. She relaxed on the sand for a second, knowing deep side the worst things were yet to come.

Oblivious to the world, Angela fell asleep not being aware of the voices brought by the wind, ignoring the fact that she could be deaf. During her short daydream, she took a sip of her coffee and tried to believe that everything was going to be okay. Right?

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Will eye's glanced across the screen, closely examining every possible move he could make. He tapped lightly, and watched the ball completely miss everything.

"Fuck peggle." Will exclaims quietly. He is suddenly knocked off balance, and leans against the wall of the bathroom as the intercoms crackle to life.

"Passengers, this is your pilot speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts, and prepare for impact."

What? We're crashing? No way in hell I'm dying in this bathroom.... Will thought to himself, closing the door behind him, looking out at all the confused passengers. He heads down the row, towards his seat, but doesn't make it there. The plane lurches sickeningly, and he falls to his knees. Suddenly, one of the side doors rips itself open, and Will is sucked out into the open air as the cabin decompresses.

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Freefall is an interesting phenomenon. To many, it is terrifying, and sends the brain into panic mode, but Will was just happy he wasn't on the plane when it hit the water. James had once commented about ejecting from a plane, and that if there is no parachute, the best case scenario that could happen would be to be near any body of water, and fortunately for Will, there was an abundance of the stuff. He attempted to straighten out his body before impact, but he didn't have the time, and hit the water nearly sideways. The impact fought to drive him unconscious, but this wasn't the first time Will has felt the feeling. He started kicking, driving himself towards the surface, sending even more adrenaline coursing through his veins. Water forced itself down his throat as he neared the open air, and he burst into the storm clogged air, choking and spitting out the harsh seawater, only to be met with another wave. He managed to stabilize himself, and look around for anything to latch onto. He noticed a medium sized suitcase floating a couple hundred feet away. Will struggled to the lifesaving carry-on, pain finally registering in his mind, and having next to no use of his left arm. As he neared, his vision began to blur, and he slowly lost consciousness.
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Will forced his eyes open, and little pinpricks of light filled his vision. They danced and swirled in front of him, like a million tiny fireflies. He stared at these lights for god knows how long before registering his surroundings. It started with the water, gently lapping at his fingertips, and then the pain. His head was throbbing, and he quickly realized the lights were stars. Millions of them, the most he had ever seen, and he was momentarily dumbfounded.
"Where......where am I?" He mumbled to himself, slowly sitting up and looking around. That damned suitcase has next to him, along with a good amount of plane debris and other luggage. His medical training kicked in and he opened the suitcase, looking for something to use as a sling. Finding a suitable shirt, using his one good arm and a hefty amount of biting, he managed to get his bad arm in a makeshift sling. Continuing to dig through the suitcase, he finds a set of matches, an empty journal, some pencil's and cigarettes, all relatively dry.

Thank fucking allah...... Will thinks, lighting a cigarette and drawing deeply. He stands slowly, and heads to the treeline to gather fire supplies. But, just before he reaches it, he stops suddenly, dropping to a crouch. You know that feeling when you think you hear something out of the ordinary, but aren't sure it actually happened? Like all the hairs standing up on your body at once, so you're sure something happened, but have no memory of specifically what you heard? That's what happened, and Will scanned the treeline, instinctively reaching for his absent sidearm. He stays like this for a good while, then calms down and starts collecting wood and thatch.

It isn't long before he has a small fire going. He takes off his shirt and suspends it over the fire, hoping to dry it out. Hoping others survived, hoping James survived. He lit another cigarette and peered along the beach, looking for any sign of other survivors, just not wanting to be alone here.

The unconscious woman, Veronica (though her name was yet unknown to her savior), her head turned the side, began to violently cough up seat water. Spasming for a moment, she finally went still. A few moments later, her eyes fluttered open and she coughed raggedly. Veronica, finally coming to consciousness, could not think. Her head was heavy and full of water, her lungs ached, her entire body was cut and slightly bleeding, and there was a darkness at the back of her skull.

She groaned in agony, putting a hand to the wound at the back of her head, it came away sticky and wet with blood. Tears came to her eyes, as she continued sobbing and coughing. She rapidly sat up, her head swooned and the darkness overwhelmed. Veronica sighed and fell back down on the sand, passed out. Then, just a second or two later, she opened her eyes wide again, panic and confusion spilling from them. Vision swimming, breathe thin, body aching, she lay staring up at the sky, her muscles tense.

Only then, did she notice the woman laying next to her. Her chest was aching, as if someone had struck it. Veronica was not herself- she was more a panicking organism than a thinking human.

"Wha-..." She quietly croaked, turning her head to look at the woman next to her.

The panic in her eyes faded, instead they glazed over. The darkness pulsed once, her vision purpled briefly, her head swam, and a strange look of concern swept over her face.

"Are you okay?" She asked clearly and genuinely. "You look injured."

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Glad his awkward words had gone mostly unnoticed, and feeling able to move, at least a bit, Eric shakily stood to his feet, shrugging his own thicker trench coat off his person, which revealed several large gashes the piece of clothing had sustained, and presumably what had kept the man decently uninjured. His two shirts were plastered to his skin, and a hint of red flashed from a spot near his upper left shoulder. It stung, and he reached back to feel for any damage. His hand came back to his face to meet with a small smear of crimson. He allowed his coat to fall to the sand, and he hurriedly flung off unbuttoned the remains of his dress shirt, followed by the Tee he wore underneath. He felt his back again, finding the source of the blood. A decent sized cut had been made to his back. It didn't feel deep, but if he hadn't had his trench coat, it might had been far more then a simple slash. It didn't feel bad enough to waste time on, so instead of bothering the woman, who was already in the process of tending to another, marking her as some form of doctor, at least from her actions. He lifted his dress shirt from the ground, clenching it tightly within his hands, as he began the process of tearing it into fair sized chunks. The fabric tearing reminded him of the process of tearing meat apart with his teeth during dinner time, and it would later strike him, that he might never eat a normal, juicy steak, ever again. His hands were still shaking, and he fumbled several times with the knot, but he finally managed to tie the make-shift bandage around the wound, much like a bandoleer the military used for carrying extra ammunition or small explosives.

The wrapping felt sturdy, if a bit crude, but he could fix that later, for now...Tossing his shoes to the side, watching the faint traces of water from within them spill out like a tea cup slammed down to hard, he pulled his socks off, watching them peel off his feet, and tossed them onto his trench coat. His jeans were soaked, but uncomfortable with taking them off, he left them on his legs, feeling the fabric make attempts to cling to his legs, to no avail. They were simply the wrong material to stick to flesh when wet. Brushing the seat of his pants off, the wannabe detective turned back to his clothing, and slowly lifted the trench coat from the sand, grains sticking to the surface of the surface.

His gaze met it, and he found himself transfixed with the coat. The gash that cut through the upper left half of the simple long coat, had been one of the reasons he probably still had his arm. His memory on exactly how he had escaped the plane was hazy, a mist he couldn't see through, possibly due to the sheer panic, and hysteria he and the other passengers had gone through, but no matter the case, he might have lost function of his left arm completely if he hadn't been wearing the heavy article of clothing. The coat was a winter gift from his family a few years back, and he enjoyed the look so much, he almost never was seen without it. The coat was both a gift, and his trademark. He was that pissed, average looking bastard in the trench coat that people walked a wide circle around in public. He often had found himself laughing at such events when he was alone. He vaguely remembered one of security members asking if he was seriously planning on wearing it into the plane, and to their destination of all places. Eric had merely glared at the guard, allowing him to check the contents of the coat for any hidden weaponry of any kind, before allowing him to continue on his way. A few of the other passengers had stared at him oddly for keeping the trench coat on his person the entire flight, not that it had mattered much to him. It probably didn't matter now, they had probably been swallowed up by the sea by now, their bodies making decent meals for both predator and prey fish alike. Then he remembered how he had nearly been swallowed by the water himself, and that brought a close to his reminiscing.

The sand deforming under his feet after every step, Eric trudged over to the woman and the man she was assisting. He was just in time to see her finish the cauterization process, and he couldn't help but be impressed. She was resourceful, and this pretty much proved she had some sort of medical background. The sun's heat was both their ally, and a possible enemy, as he took a quick glance at it, quint-ting as the rays of the slowly setting sun stared back, almost taunting them for the situation they now found themselves in. His eyes flicked back down to the man. He was older then him, by a good few years, but he seemed like a tough one. One of those former military types. The kind who looked down on people like him. He didn't plan on stooping to the level of his college peers however, and merely offered a hand.

"Need a hand?" His tone was flat, neutral, but it was the thought that counted. At least in Eric's eyes. He wasn't expecting a thank you, or even anything friendly, but they were all in the same boat. What choice did they have but to try and work together? Not to mention, from the looks of him, the woman, and the other washed up survivor's he could see, they were in worse shape then he was. Far worse.

Angela couldn't tell how long she had been out: even if it was for minutes or a whole day. She sat again on the beach, getting closer to the water and washing a few of the cuts around her arms. She remembered falling asleep to the distant sound of voices but now she could see that she wasn't the only one to survive.

Not much far on the beach, a woman and a guy helped someone who seemed to have a very bad arm injurie. She started walking, exploring the shore and the beach with her eyes seeing that not all of the passengers had the same luck as her and the others who were there in the beach.

The sun wasn't shining as brightly anymore. Some could even say it was a nice beach to spend the summer in if it was not for the fact that they all had no idea where they were and how long would they been staying there. After passing another two females in the beach, she found her luggage - or better saying, just the purse she was carrying with her before the crash.

She used the Swiss Knife to cut her jeans off and lousily tied her leg, trying to prevent the bleeding. A few flasks of antibiotics were broken but most of the pills were dry, that could be useful for some of the survivors but it probably wouldn't be enough to help everyone over there.

She turned around, going back to the woman and the guy with his arm burned.

"Hey" she said throwing some of the pills to the girl "Maybe you could deal with the infection with some of those. I'm not a doctor and I don't know if any of us here actually is but I don't need them for now and I have the feeling we are going to really need each other"

She kept walking along the beach. The sea breeze giving her a chill that she decided to associate with cold and not fear. To her right, the forest stared at them: watching the wreckage on the beach, the new people, the intruders. The trees sheltering whatever was hidden inside that green inferno.

A few steps away was a shirtless man sitting by a fire. His eyes in the ocean probably waiting or looking for something.
She kept walking and sat by the fire watching the sea, the waves crashing in the shore bringing all sort of stuff to the beach.

"Normally I would ask if I could sit" she said still looking to the sea "but since we are both survivors of a crash I don't think you will mind."

She took her jacket off putting it close to the fire, staying with her ripped jeans and white blouse only and rubbing her hands in the process. If they were going to survive that place they would need to deal with a lot of stuff: shelter, food and first of all, water. Her head ached just with the thought of dealing with those issues. She took a deep breathe and tried to see things with levity.

"I'm Angela, by the way. What's your name, fire starter?"

The feeling of doom is not often stumbled upon, but for Colton, it had hit him like a freight train. Fighting for one’s life is not an easy experience. Colton was never known for his swimming abilities, yet he was able to swim from a plane crash to shore fighting the waves and impending doom. Then after making it to shore where he finally thought it was over and he was being rescued used his last energy to run to the voices. Discovering that they were in just as much trouble as he had gone through destroyed him. He accepted the fact, he was going to die just like everyone he had ever loved, and no one would miss him.

When the young woman approached him and started addressing his injuries he ignored her the best he could. She was just a nascence getting in the way. If he survived the day then he would deal with his injuries after, but that did not seem likely. He finally looked up at the woman while she was digging through degree and that was the moment that everything changed. The old man felt young again seeing such a beautiful woman running on the beach in her undergarments. Looking around he noticed another young man starting to strip as well, at this point confusion took over, it was still far better than the despair he felt earlier.

He was looking around when the woman came back, running. Not wanting to leer at her he returned his head to look down out of respect. He noticed the heated-up metal and began to panic as she warned him what was coming. Having the cloth shoved in his mouth only muffled his cries of anguish. Colton thrusted his head back in pain as she continued burning him with the heated metal. If he had any energy left he probably would have pushed her away, but he was just too exhausted to even fight back. The pauses were the worst part, allowing the air to touch his new burns causing extreme pain making tears roll down his face. By the time she was done Colton was no longer angry with her or wanting to kill her, instead he felt grateful that this random woman in her underwear went out of her way to save him.

He didn’t have the words to express his gratitude, but her kindness revived something else in Colton giving him the motivation to survive. When another figure approached reaching out his hand towards Colton, another kind of action. Looking up at the kid who coldly asked if he needed help, there was a different feeling to him, unlike the woman before. Colton silently reached out his right arm allowing himself to be helped up by the young man. He placed his arm around the back of the young man's shoulders and allowed him to escort him to the tree line to get out of the sun. As he passed the woman who helped him he paused, “I owe you one.”



“Oh no, that’s not good.” Sophia’s eyes widened as she saw the woman pull her hand back revealing blood. CPR was one thing, but a head injury is completely different, and Sophia had no idea how to deal with it. The woman seemed to have stopped drowning which was good news, but the head trauma was very bad news. The woman was conscious and moving but it was unclear how much damage or what would happen if she were to get up, so Sophia did not want to move the woman.

The water hit their feet, the waves washed up splashing the pair as they struggled for life on the shore. The emergency grew, Sophia had no idea if there were tide differences on this shore, or even where they are. The woman was washed up on this shore so likely she could be washed away. Suddenly the need to move away from the water become more prevalent. The problem was that Sophia has too injured to barely move, so moving the injured woman as well was nearly impossible.

Sophia looked down at the woman again, knowing that she couldn’t do anything more to help. The woman looked back at her clearly confused and in pain. “Don’t worry we will be ok.” Sophia started to look around frantically for any other sign of survivors. An echo of a scream could be heard behind the pair. Turning back Sophia could see the flicker of a fire as well. A swell of hope began to rise as Sophia realized other people survived. “Help!” Sophia resorted to her last hope… Screaming. “We need help, please, anyone!” Her voice was a horse after swallowing so much salt water and sitting in the sun. “Help!” Sophia looked back down towards the woman, the woman whose life was in Sophia’s hands. If she failed to get help then she would need to abandon this woman, Sophia would have to let her die. The scream became louder out of desperation of saving this woman from her doom “Help!”

---

The woman laying on the beach next to her began screaming. Veronica covered her ears as her head felt like it would burst. Why was she freaking out so much? Veronica still had a stangely placated look on her face, as this was all just a minor inconvenience. It was impossible for herself to tell, but she was suffering from a concussion. As such, the brief period of panic and terror had subsided into an inky delusion. She was really unaware of where she was, and what happened, and could not focus on much in particular.

Right now, this woman next to her needed Veronica's help. She was crying for help, clearly something was wrong with her. Well, Veronica thought, she needn't worry for long. Veronica was here to save her.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry. We'll be fine." Veronica replied calmly, echoing the woman's words, sitting up and putting a hand on her shoulder. Man, she felt sleepy. Still, this lady was clearly not having a good time. Veronica blinkled slowly.

"Do you want to go over to those people? I can help you." Veronica clambered methodically to her feet, stumbling a bit as she fully stood, a wave of dizzines washing over her. Woah, that was weird. Maybe she just stood up too quick- she probably needed to eat more. Veronica didn't remember coming to the beach, but obviously she must have. There were other people over there, in the distance. Having a party? Maybe they could help this poor lady out. Veronica wasn't a doctor. She was a model. People took pictures of her. Why? Veronica giggled. What a weird world.

Veronica extended a hand down to the woman to help her up, offering to help her walk towards help. "Come on. My name's Veronica. What's your name?"

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Will stared out into the ocean for a long time, completely oblivious to the fact there were others injured around him. To be frank, he didn't really care. All he could think about was James,his body nearly aching with worry. Or maybe that was the crash. He hadn't decided, but it didn't matter. James wasn't there, and there wasn't anything Will could do about it, and for the first time in a very long time, Will felt cold and empty, the fire beside him doing nothing to warm his spirit. Sighing, he turned to look at the jungle maw spread out behind him. The jungle looked infinitely too dark, and worried him greatly. "Where in the fuck are we....." Will shivered and turned back to the fire, placing another cigarette in his mouth, and lighting a match from his ever shrinking supply. He drew deeply, exhaling smoke towards the darkening sky, eyes catching, once again, to the waves.

The sound of water used to calm him, there was something about storms that just made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, and the sound of the ocean was no different. At least, it used to be. Now, all he could think about was watching the plane impact that cold dark water.........Will shivered once more at the thought. He thought it impossible for anyone to survive an impact like that, and yet, here they were. A bunch of fucking idiots covered in sand and blood. He smirked, as it seemed like he had been here before.

It took him a long time to realize someone was talking to him. He blinked a few times and looked at the blonde girl across from him.
"Huh? Firestarter? OH!" Will laughs, suddenly snapping back to everything else that's been going on around him.

"Names, right, that'll help, I'm Will. Will, uh, Gunderson." Will runs his good hand over his head, pushing back the hair from his face. He regards the girl with stormy blue eyes, noticing the the cut on her leg. He draws on the cigarette, bringing his gaze back up to her face.

"Seems like we made it out a little bit better than the ones down the beach." Will's eyes shift to the others momentarily, then focus back on Angela.

"Can you come over here for a moment, I need some help-" Pain shoots through Will's body as he attempts to move his left arm. He grits his teeth and continues.

"Re-relocating this. I basically just need you to pull, like, really fucking hard. I'm a navy medic and won't be able to help anyone until I get this little situation squared away." His tone is light and playful, almost like the awful situation that has befallen them wasn't happening.

Drachen's eyes opened and looked up into the stars of the night sky. His mind began working, piecing things together as he woke up from the crash induced sleep. The experimental airplane had crashed, but how had it happened? He shoved that thought aside, it served no purpose since he knew absolutely nothing about planes except they went through the air. A better question was, where was he? Sitting up, a little slowly to avoid a headrush, he looked around. He was on a beach, but not the shores of Hawaii if what he read was true about the place.

The waves crashing up against him brought a stinging sensation from his face and hands. Looking down he took note of the small cuts, not unfamiliar to him. Touching his face he traced the long wound that marred his face. It would probably need stitches, not that he'd get those on a beach. Shifting so he was kneeling he scrubbed his hands in the salt water before going about and scrubbing his face. His teeth clenched as he drowned the pain under his willpower until he was sure he had cleaned it thoroughly. Temporarily anyway, open wounds tended to fester if not taken care of correctly.

Pushing himself to his feet he made sure the rest of him was okay. His clothing was a little scuffed up but otherwise he was okay. The leather creaked from all the movements though, the water making it conform to him a little. He looked out at the inky black water and wracked his brain, trying to think of what could have woken him up aside from the warm ocean water. Noises, specifically voices yelling. A more thorough look around brought the sight of fire.

There were some shapes around it, survivors? Or potentially natives? Not all islands tended to be inhabited. He'd just have to assume they were other survivors. So he started to lumber over towards the fire. His leather clothing and furred jacket creaking with each dull thump of his foot meeting sand.

Angela double checked on Will: he seemed fine except for his arm. She walks around the fire and checks on his body, seeing nothing more than some scratches.

She finds amusing how that guy is still able to see some levity in the situation even if they were in a deep trouble right now. Looking at his eyes would probably be the same than looking directly at the sea.

"Okay" she says with a nervous look, putting her hands over his shoulders "You said pull really hard. I'm gonna do it. I'm a botanist. Sorry if it goes wrong"

At first her hands just lay there for a second, touching his arm and doing nothing, the cold wind running around them while the fire made some comfortable noises. And then, she pulled. Hard.
For a moment she thought she wouldn't be able to do it cause Angela had no idea of where to expect the "fixing" to happen but soon she heard a crack noise and saw Will's arm go back into the regular position. If that was the one.

He seemed in pain for a second and his breathing slowed and not much after that, he was starring at the fire again. She wasn't looking at his face when she pulled the arm and she was glad she wasn't, that wasn't an experience she would want to have herself.
Angela looked around for a while, expecting Will to get used to having his arm back in place.

"Sorry if it hurts too much. You're the doctor here. And you're gonna need that arm to help people. I hope I haven't finished ruining it"

Angela looked around the beach and she got the feeling as she always had ever since they got in the shore that they were being watched. The green inferno stared back: inviting her in and convincing her to get adventurous. She preferred to check other people around the beach, that would probably do her good.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


"Yes, it's very simple, just don't do it to fast, or-"

Will cuts out suddenly as she pulls on his arm, harshly cracking the arm back into the socket. Will grits his teeth and rubs his shoulder. He smiles at her last comment.

"I think you might have completely destroyed the socket..." He lets the sentence hang for a moment.

"Problem for another day." Will stands, laughing, obviously only fucking with the blonde. He stretches his newly located arm and turns to Angela.

"See? Good as new. First thing we should do is look through the luggage, see how much medical supplies we can find. We'll need needles and thread too, and any kind of alcohol we can find. I'm guessing a lot of us have cuts that will need to be closed, and we shouldn't resort to cauterization if we can help it. Will puts a hand on her shoulder and smiles.

"And thanks. I'll repay you by closing up that leg of yours."
He winks and turns away from Angela, towards various luggage spread about the beach. His shoulder is now bruising heavily, and definitely doesn't look fun to deal with. But Will doesn't seem to mind, happily whistling a tune as he digs through the suitcases. How he is doing internally, however, is a completely different story. Angela would be able to see him glancing back at the ocean seemingly out of habit, like he was looking for something that would never show up.

It doesn't take Will long to find the necessary items to start stitching, and soon returns to the fire with an assortment of pills and medical supplies.

"Luckily, it seems that we were flying with some paranoid ass motherfuckers, and an assortment of their panic packing has made it to the beach. Here."

Will tosses a bottle of vodka to Angela.

"Not sure how this got past security, but it's ours now. You're gonna want to down some of that, this is going to hurt a lot."

Will stares at her for a moment, small smile lighting up his features. He then sits down and starts to sterilize the needles with a smaller, plane legal bottle of alcohol. "What fucking luck we have. Let's hope I'm not the only bastard with medical experience." He thinks to himself, looking briefly down the beach at the others. He looks up at the jungle while sorting through the pills, praying this doesn't turn into some Cannibal Holocaust type bullshit.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He was heavier then he had first anticipated.

Eric thankfully wasn't supporting the older man full on, but he was quickly realizing that walking a roughly 200 pound injured man across sand wasn't nearly as easy as he had first anticipated. He wasn't expecting it to be a walk in the park, he had escorted drunken friends home more then once, but most of them had been easier to cooperate with, and most of them weren't over 160 in terms of weight. Regardless, wincing slightly as the cut on his back stung momentarily, the young man helped his older companion over to the closest tree, a large, decently shady palm, dark enough to keep the injured out of the sun, yet still light enough to keep any insects that might lurk within the jungles of the still yet unknown place to a minimum.

Gently lowering himself and the older man to the ground, he carefully helped him lean against the tree, grimacing as his back stung again. His frown deepened as the older man and him left contact, and he took a step back, staring in the general direction of the one he had given aid. Internally, he cursed himself for showing weakness. These people, this guy, were all in far worse shape then he, and for gods sake, one had just been cauterized, one of the worst possible treatments known to man, no matter how effective it's crudeness was. Externally, he just seemed generally unpleasant, not that he had seemed like a cheery person to begin with. There wasn't much time for that anyways, they had more important things to take care of.

A small gust of wind blew past him, and he shivered momentarily, before giving a small nod to the older man. "We'll be close by, holler if you need somethin..."

Without another word he turned away, and trudged back down towards the beach. The small campfire caught his attention, and he approached gingerly, pausing to stare at the two, his hands buried in the pockets of his wet jeans. His right hand withdrew, pushing his bangs from his eyes, and he took the opportunity to speak.

"From the looks of things, you two probably don't need much assistance from the woman over there." He gestured in the general direction of the good lady doctor. He paused for a moment, running his gaze back over the two, the man, who didn't look much older then him, and the woman, around the same age as the woman hell bent on burning every single one of them alive. That was going to be a joke he'd try and remember later on. "Y'two need anything in particular? I'm gonna search the rest of the beach for other survivors and possibly whatever else I can find."

At that point, he was ready to carry every single suitcase and bag he found washed up on shore back to the group. The urge to help the other members of the failed flight was running through his thoughts, and as annoying as petty sentiment was, he would need whatever loot they found slightly less then the others.

The young man was struggling under Colton’s weight. Either he was weak or was injured, at this moment Colton couldn’t tell but he was disappointed in the young man’s show of strength. The man grumbled along with his assistant carrying him over to the sand. Although he was grateful for the help it was in his nature to dislike human contact. He spent many years pushing people away, so he was just looking for an excuse to push away his new assistant. The young man tried to talk to him but received grunts and mumbles in response all the way to the shade.

Finally, the cool sand hit his body. It felt nice on his sore muscles allowing him to finally relax and calm down. Looking back at the young man that helped him, the most he was willing to do was given a friendly nod in thanks. He slowly sat up against a tree allowing him to view the shoreline and watch the man rush over to the fire just out of view. The smoke was visible though, which is probably where his savior got her heat from. Suddenly he became aware of the pain again and winced, verbally grunting as the pain struck again in his arm. At this point, it hurt less when it was just a gash in his arm. He understood this was for his own safety, in the long run, allowing him to keep his arm and avoid infection if they got fresh water.

Colton rested his head back trying to ignore the pain. As he relaxed and focused on breathing he started to listen. He could hear screaming from other passengers, some talking and planning. He could also hear noises from behind him. In the jungle. It wasn’t obvious, but it was clear movement, large animals wandering through the woods slowly cautiously exploring the new visitors. The movement behind Colton made him more hopeful. When there is life on the island that means there are food and water. The noises behind him meant survival.



Sophia looked in surprise as the woman stood up and began to comfort her. Watching the woman stand up left her in a stunned silence, she clearly was not in a clear mindset and was acting oddly. Still, she was standing and talking which meant she was better than expected. Sophia looked back at her leg which was looking even more inflamed than it was at initial landing. It was probably time for her to focus on her own injuries and accept the help the woman was offering.

“My name's Sophia.” Reaching out and accepting the helping hand from the once drowning woman. Sophia struggled to stand even with the Veronica's help. Having to fully support her weight on one leg was impossible and the dizzy injured woman was only partially supporting her. The pain was excruciating, it must be a sprain or worse. Hopefully not worse or else getting rescued would be a massive task. But at this moment the only thought was getting to the other people and getting help for herself and the woman that was literally bleeding from her head.

“It’s just a few steps more,” Sophia said encouraging herself and speaking to keep her mind off the pain. “Are you feeling ok? You are acting odd for the situation we are in.” Head injuries were not something Sophia was fluent in, so she was thinking that something got knocked loose in her head and messed her up. It was nerve-racking being helped by someone that cold possible collapse at any minute, but right now Veronica was Sophia’s only hope to get help.

---

The woman, a pretty ginger girl, introduced herself as Sophia. A pretty name, Veronica thought. Pretty, like the beach. Her eyes briefly trailed off to the ocean, where she saw a copious amount litter. Now that was just despiciable. Who would litter on a beach like this? Either way, Sophia was having trouble walking, so Veronica was set on helping her.

"Hello, Sophia. That's a good name." Veronica helped the woman limp along, though she was probably drunk or something because she kept stumbling.

Veronica raised an eyebrow and looked over at Sophia in reponse to her question. "Am I okay?" She asked with a smile, incredulous. "That's sweet, but you're the one I should be worrying about, not me. I'm fine. We're almost there, there's probably someone whocanhlepl." Vernonica slurred her words towards the end of her sentence unknowingly, and briefly lost her footing. In her stunned state, Veronica was doing what she would probably be doing anyway, though she had no real idea of the situation she was in. Perhaps it was for the best? Panic would help no one. Still, Veronica thought in the back of her mind, there were probably better ways of not panicking than being semi-conscious. Those thoughts quickly subsided and were forgotten about in the haze of her mind, washed away by the ever-present hushing and crashing waves.

"Hello?" Veronica called out sweetly, almost sing song. [color]"This one hurt herself, we could use some help."[/color] This was kind of exhausting, honestly. Veronica was happy to help, but dang, people are hard to help walk. She was so tired, she almost felt like she could faceplant in the sand and go to sleep right then and there. That sounded, really, really good, actually. Veronica blinked slowly.

Drachen hadn't gotten very far before he heard female voices off to the side away from the flames. He could see the dark shapes of a pair of people and the soft, but higher pitched, voices made them to be women. One actually called out for some assistance, and since he was feeling fine, he started lumbering towards the pair. Those long legs made short work of the distance, but he wasn't moving too fast so the girls didn't spook. People seemed to run, or try to, when he moved too fast.

As he approached he took stock of the girls situation. One clearly had a leg injury, the clothes would have to go to get a better look. The other was bleeding from the head, which seemed to be a worse injury. "Hmmn...do not sleep..." He rumbled to Veronica. His voice was almost painful to listen to given how deep it was. Looking to the other girl he held a great hand out, silently telling her to take it so he could help. It was obvious to both that he was more than capable of taking on her weight, and given his size he'd be more likely just to carry her.