Kalena Ewewalea's Story

"I need...Help" A voice said. Turning around, Ray approached the man who had called for his help. A women was there already trying to pour alcohol on his wound to clean it. Focusing he cleared his head and got down on his knees next to the guy. Ray took off his torn business shirt and ripped it to large pieces. As soon as she was done he put a piece of his shirt on one of the wounds to stop the bleeding. "Shit, he going to be all right?" a second voice said. Ray looked up at the new face. He's going to be fine" he said quickly. In reality Ray had no idea if he was going to be okay. But he sure as hell wasn't going to do nothing about it. We need to stop the bleeding as best as we can. He looked around at other injured people. Some had severe injuries and some were just bruised like he was. There was no way he could help all of them on his own...

Kalena looked around as she tightly grasped a seat cushion. She had many bruises and cuts, but no big gashes or broken bones. Only about half of the passengers made it on land, maybe even less. "Nay (pronounced Nigh...) will be sad to hear of this." Kalena looked and the water. The water and white sand at the bottom was speckled with blood. Blood. She looked around nervously. If there was blood in the water, there would be sharks. Kalena hated sharks. She quickly realized that staying in the water was not the best option. She let go of her flotation device and swiftly swam through the water. Then she heard it, the thing she feared the most. Water rushing behind her. Kalena swam faster and faster until the water was shallow enough for her to run. She ran, as far away from the water as she could. When girl made contact with the land, the shark was close behind. It chomped the air, just delayed enough for her to make her escape. Kalena sat about 30 yards from the water with her knees to her chest and her head resting on them. She rocked back and forth, trying to forget of the awful events of the day.

Shawn had a window seat and was daydreaming while looking out at the view. He yawned and reached in pocket for his wallet, he opened it and looked at the picture that was always in it, he smiled and closed it. As he went to put it back in his pocket the plane lurched and he heard the gasp coming from the people around him. He had one hand gripping the armrest and the plane lurched again. Shoving his wallet back in his pocket he looked out of his window only to see the engine spark and shatter and things went black.

He threw himself to the side, coughing up water. He felt a sharp pain go up his side and unwilling fell to his back again. Finishing coughing he slowly raised himself up and slowly moved his sweater off, his tank top was ripped revealing a jagged piece of metal sticking out of him. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Biting his lip he lightly grabbed the metal and curled his toes. Grunting he started to pull the metal piece out of his side letting out a slight scream. His breathing picked up and he pulled the piece out letting out a brief scream. Sitting himself up he looked at the piece of metal, hands still shaking, and dropped it into the sand beside him.

Letting out a sigh he stood up, weak kneed, his head was ringing and when he placed his hand on it stung, his hand was red when he looked at it and tapping on his head showed that there was a small cut above his eyebrow. He looked around, there was luggage and plane parts everywhere. He patted himself down, he grabbed his wallet, it was fine but the picture was slightly damaged from the water. He put it back and kept feeling around, he felt his lighter in his back pocket and almost forgetting, he sat back down, a slight ping of pain going through his side. Shawn took off his right shoe and grabbed his switchblade, he had smuggled it onto the plane through his carry-on and immediately hid it on himself when he boarded. He shoved it in his pocket with his wallet. Leaning back he patted his chest, making sure his necklace was still under his clothes, he looked down at his stomach, the bottom of tank top had begun to turn a brighter red than before, looking through the rip the gash was around three inches and seemed pretty deep. Bunching up the bottom of it he held it tight to the wound and got up and proceeded to look around. There was a commotion a little way away from the sound of things and figured he should head that way.

Kalena finally calmed down. 'Okay. It wasn't as bad as it seemed.' She didn't realize that the shark was just her imagination. She looked up from her knees and saw that a few more people either made it to shore or can to consciousness, and then saw saw that there were two men terribly injured. One was far away being cared for by a small group of people. Kalena walked over to the two men closest to her. One was bleeding and the other was tending to his wound. "I-Is there anything that I can do to help?" She asked. She looked around to see if she could find anything that might be useful to the doctor person. She pulled out a soggy napkin from her pocket. "Will this help any?" She held it out to him.

It was a puncture wound, and the man had pulled out whatever had cut him open. Blood was all but gushing out of him. The shirt was holding back the blood for now, but it was covered in sand and dirt, doing almost as much harm as good in the long run. Though, if Walter didn’t stop the bleeding, the man wouldn’t have a long run.

Standard care for a wound like this was to leave the foreign object in place, to hold back the bleeding and prevent further injury from removal. Too late for that. Next you stabilize the patient for transfer to hospital and an operating room.

If there was help nearby - ambulances, helicopters, real doctors or medics, surely they would be here soon. Yet there were no sirens, no sounds of aircraft. Where had the plane gone down?

“I-Is there anything that I can do to help?” It was a slim woman with wavy brown hair. She pulled a wet napkin from her pocket, “Will this help any?”

“I’m afraid not. I need clean bandages, or something that will pass for them.”

He glanced around the beach, and for a moment could only see a long line of casualties. He was not a field medic, had only practiced medicine in controlled situations, and not on people. Some of the wounds looked to be even more severe than the one he examined now.

His eyes fell on what was left of the plane, half in the beach and half in the water.

“Luggage,” he looked the woman straight in the eye, “Unpack some luggage, bring me clean clothes -” suddenly he remembered his own bag, the kit he was going to use at the practice sessions he’d planned to attend in Tokyo, “I have medical supplies. My bag was checked, I don’t know if it’s still on the plane. It’s a big green duffle with yellow stitching, it should have a tag on it with the name Walter Sykes. You can look for it if you want, but get the clean clothes first, I need to get this bleeding under control.”

“Now you sit down,” he addressed the man, “I need to see how deep this is. I wish you hadn't pulled that thing out.”

Shawn staggered past some of the plane wreckage his head still felt groggy and his side was killing him. He let out a sigh and looked around still not entirely sure what was happening.He figured he hit his head harder than he originally thought.

“Stop right there” he heard man call out “...you’ll only make things worse.”

His vision wasn’t to clear and there was a ringing in his ear. A man hurried to his side, not sure of his intentions Shawn took a step back. He was older than Shawn and immediately removed his wadded up shirt off of his wound. Looking down at the wound it clearly worse than before, blood seemed to be pouring out of his side like a faucet.

The man was checking out the wound when Shawn heard another muffled voice. He turned slightly to see a women was handing the man a napkin but he had waved it away. There’s was something about clean bandages and the women was gone.

“Now you sit down.” he told Shawn, helping him to the ground. “...I wish you hadn’t pulled that thing out.”

Shawn managed a smile “I wouldn’t have been able to move.” He relaxed his head back “That...that bitch killed.” he swallowed hard and lazily pointed towards his head “I hit...my head.”

Kalena hurried away and looked around the beach for some luggage. She saw a few bags over by a tall tree. "Aha!" She rummage through them until she found a pink suitcase that held many different scarves. They were clean and smelled like perfume. She gathered a few and went back to Walter.

Kalena was halfway to him when she noticed something. Something shiny caught her eye. The woman went towards it and saw that it just a metal piece of the plane, but right next to it was a green duffle bag with yellow stitching with a tag that said Walter Sykes.

She grabbed the bag and heaved it to it's owner. "Here you go, Mr. Sykes." She gently set down the bag next to him, but kept hold of the scarves so that they wouldn't get sandy. Kalena looked at the injured man he was tending. "Oh, is he going to be okay?" She was a bit disturbed at the big wound he had in his side.

Walter abandoned the idea of keeping the man’s blood off his hands. There was no way to treat the wound without risking exposure to disease. He gently lifted the shirt away from the wound and blood flowed out.

“That...that bitch killed,” the man said, his voice slightly slurred, “I hit...my head.”

Quickly Walter pressed the shirt back against the wound. That much blood meant an organ had been hit. He felt around the man’s abdomen for signs of internal bleeding - swelling, tenderness, but thankfully found none.

His mind couldn’t help but consider that there might be others with internal bleeding, people who didn’t have any real symptoms yet besides minor pain. He was mentally triaging the injured he could see. This man needed sutures to stop the bleeding. That could be simple, or very complex, depending on where the bleeding was coming from. Either way it would take time. There were others who only needed their wounds cleaned and properly bandaged. Though it was a simple thing, if it didn’t get done the risk of infection was great.

He lifted his head to the man’s. A small cut above his eye was slightly raised, already bruising around the edges.

“I’m gonna check your eyes.” He pulled first the right, then the left eye open. The pupils looked even, but he could not test how well they functioned.

The man looked hazy, so Walter tried to keep him alert, “I’m Walter, I’m going to do what I can for you.”

"Here you go, Mr. Sykes."

He spun to see the woman returned, not just with clean cloth, but his duffle.

“You’re an angel!” he blurted as took the scarves from her.

They soaked up the blood quickly, but pressed hard in the wound they slowed the bleeding much better than the shirt had. There was nothing more to do short of cut him open enough to find the bleed. In that time people with other, more treatable injuries might progress past the point of saving.

"Oh, is he going to be okay?"

He paused only a moment before answering, “We are going to do what we can for him. Now do me another favor if you will,” he stood back, making room for her, “sit with him. Keep really hard pressure on this wound, as firm as you can hold it. And talk to him, keep him alert.” Walter stood and lifted his case out of his duffle. “And you," he looked the man in the eye, "when you're too hurt to move, take that as a sign to stay still."

He nodded to them, then headed further down the beach.

The lady was given the cloth and held it to the man's side. She was a bit disgusted at his horrid wound. 'Why me!? Ohhh why ME?!' She said to herself. She looked at the who she was also sort of holding. "Um.. Hi." Kalena didn't really know what to say, but she didn't say anything about the crash. "What's your name?" She thought making a casual conversation might work, Mr. Sykes said that she had to keep him alert.

She continued to firmly apply pressure to his wound. Kalena looked around at the rest of the beach as she waited for an answer. A girl dramatically passed out on the shore. 'If I had passed out, I'd probably fall on my face in a really unattractive way.' She thought to herself. Kalena shrugged it off, this was no time to judge people.

Shawn shut his eyes for a second and made a deep sigh as he leaned further back. Just my luck to be in this sort of situation. he said to himself.

“Um...Hi,”there was a short pause before she spoke again. “What’s your name?” asked the girl tending to his wound.

“I’m Samantha.” chimed another voice who he didn’t recall.

Opening his eyes revealed another woman with blonde hair kneeling next to the other one with what seemed to brown hair.
“Shawn, you?” He looked around the beach his vision finally started to correct itself but his head still killed and his gash was obviously not going to fix itself.

When Kalena asked the man for his name she didn't expect to hear a lady's voice answer. "I'm Samantha." She looked up at a blonde haired girl. "Shawn, you?" The man finally answered. "I'm Kalena. It's nice to meet you." She smiled then had to keep the conversation going. "What do you do for a living?" She was asking Shawn, but she knew that Samantha might answer.

The girl looked around again there were now three groups of three people. All had a person being looked at. 'Only nine people survived? Well I guess only nine people made it to shore.' She thought feeling terrible. Kalena didn't know that there were others that survived, too. She wished they could be rescued soon, she didn't think they would last long out here on this isolated island with probably lots of wild animals.

“I’m Kalena,” she managed a smile “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a mechanic.” he looked to the sand, at least that's one of my jobs. “Or at least I was a mechanic. Now i’m not to sure.” She was making small talk, probably because he hit his head and they didn’t want him to fall asleep. There was nothing wrong with small talk but it wasn’t his strong suit. “Is anyone else hurt?” he figured he’d ask.

Ray smiled back to her. It was good to see someone who trying to keep their cool like he was. He laughed at her joke. "No I wasn't going to Tokyo to pick up a bride, Im a graphic Designer, I was going to meet with a client for my company." He wasn't sure about how he felt about her filming him and the injured guy on her camera. He was about say something when an older looking gentleman cut in and began talking about the tatooed guys condition. He seemed to know a lot more about medical procedures and taking care of people so Ray didn't argue. He just supported the the injured man while the new guy worked on their previous patient.

He looked up at he blonde woman. "Do I know you from somewhere?" He said to her. He had seen her face before but he couldn't quite place it. He watched as the injured guy regained his conciousness and began to mumble some thing about saving his sister. Ray had no idea what he was talking about so he looked around at the others.

((I don't condone ooc stuff in the posting part but Im writing this because i want everyone to know my plan. After a few more post I would like to timeskip ahead a few days so things get a little bit more settled and we can move on with a plot. Please put in the OOC when your ready to move and your thoughts on the timeskip. So I can eventually do the time skip. This is one of hopefully few times i do this, just so everyone is in the know. Done"t let this stop you from posting though!))

"Yes, one more person is injured. Over there on the opposite site of the beach." She nodded in that direction. "Mr. Sykes is looking at him right now, so he'll probably be alright."

Kalena was starting to not apply much pressure which she hadn't realized. She looked at the scarf which was starting to leak blood. "Oops." She whispered then put pressure on Shawn's wound again. "I'm sorry if it hurts, but it's for your own good."

She looked around the rest of the beach. 6 of the nine people she knew made it to land where crowded around the other injured man. Then there was Shawn and her, and another guy who looked like he was wandering the beach.

Why was it so cold? It shouldn't be this cold. This were the thoughts racing through Andrew's mind, as he sat in his raft in the middle of the ocean. He was wet, and cold. So cold. Andrew looked around for any signs of help, any warmth. That's when his raft popped. "Are you kidding me!? Can I catch a fucking break?!?" The raft sunk, and he reacted on instinct to grab his things. Mostly, the baseball kit and parachute. The raft was no more, popped like a balloon. "Shit. Shit. Shit." Why did his raft blow? There was nothing to bust it. As far as he knew, there was no land for miles. Andrew quickly swam under to check.

Coral. Actual, coral. It had been floating up, and popped his raft. But what did coral mean? "Land." He began swimming in the direction that his raft had been going, hoping to get lucky. Holding his things in one hand and swimming in the other, he was determined to survive. And he would swim across the entire ocean to do it.

After a good bit of swimming, Andrew finally saw a blip in the distance. He looked closer and closer. An island. Swimming closer and looking closer he began to see people. People. "Hey!!! Help!!" He gasped for air, having worn out his energy swimming, but he had to survive. "Help!!" Breath. "Help!!!" Breath "Hel-" That last time Andre tripped and fell face first in the water. But he didn't trip on water. He tripped on land. Sweet sweet land!! Andrew grinned, and began to clamber up to the beach. The first thing he did was get on his hands and knees and vomit. And vomit. And vomit. Combination of seasickness, airsickness and general exhaustion. Of course he would vomit. After Pukefest 2014 was over, Andrew looked over to the group. They appeared to be working on a man. All Andrew could do was try desperately to stand up, but to no avail. He threw his stuff on the ground, and fell on the ground again. Trying to realize what had happened. These people didn't live on the island. They were survivors of the plane crash. Andrew didn't feel to swell. Feeling darkness coming in around him, he admitted the word he knew best now. "Fuuuckk."

No. He wasn't giving up like this. There were a couple people on this dreaded beach who already looked in trouble. Andrew wasn't going to be another liability. He picked himself up, and grabbed his things. Maybe something he had could help. "Do...*cough* you guys need any..." Andrew tried talking between breaths, and it hurt to talk. "Cloth...for the..*cough* wounds?" He held up the parachute.

“Calm down now son, we’ll find your sister,” Walter said, purposely leaving out any mention of the reality of the situation - if his sister wasn’t among those gathered now, she most likely hadn’t survived. “Just let us take care of you.”

He rested his hand on the man’s uninjured shoulder, patting him gently, trying to ease him back down in the other man’s arms.

“What I need is for someone to give these wounds a good clean. It looks like you’ve cleaned it some, but there is still sand and dirt here in the arm, and along the edges. Take the peroxide, soak a cotton ball and wipe them out. Don’t press down, but brush,” he demonstrated with his empty fingers, making short, quick gestures that would flick matter out, rather than grind it further in the wound.

He motioned to the bottle and the cotton wipes for whoever was willing, “Then when you’re done with that, rummage for some dry, clean clothes and apply them to the wound. Light colors would be better so you can see when they need changed.”

He replaced the shelf in his kit, and returned the scissors to their holder, “Now, as for whoever here as the strongest stomach,” he turned and pointed down the beach where the man with the puncture wound still sat, the lucky angel who found Walter’s kit with him, “that man needs surgery if he is going to live. It won’t be hard," he laughed at himself in his mind, surprised how confident his voice sounded when he was actually so unsure, "but it will be bloody. I need to open him up a little more, find what’s bleeding in there, and suture it shut.”

He knew all this might be too much for people whose minds and bodies were still overwrought from the crash, but it was necessary. He was also conscious of the blonde woman and her camera, darting back and forth between faces. It made him scowl, but he said nothing.

“I’m going to need someone to hold equipment for me, to hold the wound open so I can work, and someone to use rags, or I guess” he glanced at the suitcases washing up on the sore, “more clothes, to soak up the blood.”

Ray smiled at her joke, "I'm Ray, Ray Simmons." He shaking her hand. "Fox news though, that's still pretty cool." Ray was sincerely impressed but other matters needed his attention at the moment. He looked to the man who was fixing up the tattooed guy. "I can help, I can help you do the surgery....."


FOUR DAYS LATER

Ray looked around at the crash site now turned into a small campsite. He had found his luggage with his jeans, shorts and shirts. They hadn't eaten anything except a few mangos here and there along the treeline. people had built campfires and were huddled around them as they waited to see what other terrors would enter their lives. He had learned a few names, though. The tattooed guy he initially had helped was Davin, Then there was Doug, another fortunate one who survived with little injuries, Walter was the nice man who had helped Davin and performed surgery on Shawn. Ray had assisted Walter through the ordeal. It was one of the single most disgusting moments of his life and the blood officially finished off the suit that Ray was wearing.He was now wearing an old Led Zepplin shirt and some khaki cargo shorts. Then there was Kat, who was one of the first people Ray had met after the crash, she was interesting because she didn't seem to bothered by the crash at all. Andrew, was a man who had apparently swam to shore because he landed in the water. Ray had met them personally yet but there was also Kalena, Wren, Samantha, and Rebecca. There were several other survivors here and there but he didn't know everyone yet. Shawn survived the surgery and as far as Ray knew,was recovering, Davin seemed to be doing okay as well. I guess They could all be thankful for that.

He approached a fire where a lot of people were sitting. "Hey you know, we've been here for Four days and we don't even know what this island has to offer. For all we know there could be civillization on the other side. I'm gonna go on a hike into the island, explore a little bit and see what it has to offer. Some of us should stay here and see what we can do with the wreckage would anyone like to go with me?" he said to whoever was listening.

If she wasn't stranded on a - what all signs strongly indicated to be - a desert island, Kat could very well be in heaven. There was sun, sea, sand. Okay, the food wasn't great but at least there was food! They weren't eating bugs or anything, so it wasn't all bad. She was growing to like the taste of mango. When the other option was starve or eat leaves, mango's were like dining at the Ritz.

Kat lay there on an expensive beach towel. The one from the expensive Louis Vuitton suitcase she had almost drowned saving two days ago. It wasn't hers. It was better then hers! It had been so worth drowning for. Kat had saw it bobbing there on the tide for over an hour when she had decided to go out there and see what it was. It had been further away then she estimated, and there was an incident with the waves and tides deciding to rise just then. All's well that ends well. Kat told herself as she and the suitcase had been swept up to the shore coughing and sputtering Salt Water. Nose and throat burning like hell.

But totally worth it when she cracked it open and found the goodies inside. Designer goodies. And not the off the rack kind. Kat had bathed and changed into a fancy black dress, much like the ones she was used to wearing for work but just more expensive. She lay there on her back on the towel, by the camp fire with the other survivors going over the things she had filmed over the past four days. Making a face of disgust at a particularly gruesome part of the operation Walter had preformed with Ray's help. She hadn't been able to get much of a good shot because as much as she wanted one, she didn't want to be accused of being in the way and as a result being the cause of Shawn - the guy who had a beard even before he landed on the island's - death. She grinned at the thought. Wouldn't have been the first time she was accused of anything though. Reporters were blamed for everything. Even natural disasters or the Lord's wrath.

Kat closed the camera screen as Ray came into view and started talking. She shot to her feet at his offer. "Me! I'll go!" Because as much as this was an Island Paradise, a person could get a little cuckoo being stuck in one place for too long. "I'm so ready to film new scenery. Maybe we'll come across a Lion or a Tiger." She smirked as she stuffed the Louis Vuitton backpack she had found inside the suitcase with spare batteries for her camera and basically dumping the content of her own handbag into the backpack. So basically, wet wipes, lipstick and alcohol. Good packing. Finally, tying the the string's around her ankles of the ballet flats from the luggage that would be more comfortable to walk in then her heels.

"Ready to go." She swung the backpack across one shoulder, flipping open the screen on the camera once more and started filming. "So the journey into the wild begins." She stated as commentary for her documentary to be. "How do you feel Ray? Looking forward to getting lost in the jungle?" She smiled, jesting.