Snippet #944804

Wade Foster was raising the roof before the sirens began wailing. Intoxicated with alcohol and a few sniffs of his cocaine pouch, the man was mainstreaming on the dance floor of San Claire's hot nightclub on the ship. He wasn't necessarily picking up girls, but he was having an extremely engaging conversation with an older man about the World Cup; turns out the man was a professional soccer player for Spain before he moved to the US. That was certainly exciting to hear, especially being as high as Wade was at that moment. But he couldn't sit still, or stand still, he often left and returned to strike up that same conversation in sections. Though when the sirens began to wail this late at night, Wade wasn't able to go to his room or even have a chance to reach it. He was stuck in the flow of panicking people, trying to get into the smaller boats. Fortunately, Wade was one of the first to be boarded safely, but unfortunately, all of his stash, the coke and weed were left in the room. Let's just say, he wasn't at all pleased.

The last he remembers was the turbulence in the small boat filled with people, the ship was sinking, breaking, there were people dying. Wade's head was spinning and he was clearly panicking. Then it went black, a wave, a suffocating feeling. He remembers grabbing hold of a wooden plank, metal pieces clearly ripped on the sides. It's where he passed out. It went black. And then orange as he gained consciousness. He opened his eyes, the image of a blond woman almost tripping over something filled his sight. Wade lifted his head slightly, then his torso. It felt as if his brain was trying to get out, banging from side to side, pounding for freedom.

"Ughh..." Wade groaned, lifting up to his legs. There was no sand on him just on his wet jeans, he had been on that plant all this time. He turned slightly to call out to the woman, but his shoulder was dislocated, with a pain-filled cry, the man relocated his should with a crack, falling to his knees. Because of the pain, his vision went white and the sound of crashing waves muffled, then returned to pound in his head. While he held his shoulder, he called out, this time successfully.

"Hey!" he began, "You alright?" First and most logical question to ask, even in a hungover state as Wade's.