Raymond Simmons's Story

Rays eyes opened and his mouth filled with water. This couldn't be happening, not again He looked around. Luggage and pieces of plane were slowly falling to the bottom of the ocean along with the tail of the plane.. He swam back up to the surface as quickly as he could. As his lungs felt like they were about to burst he took in a deep breath of air. He could hear screaming and crying. What was left of the fuselage was beached halfway on the shore and the other half underwater. Ray swam over to a nearby floating seat and grabbed it to stay afloat. Several bodies were floating in the water around him. The one closest to him was the lady he was sitting next to plane.

Using his right hand to paddle Ray made his way to shore where other survivors were beginning to gather. He didn't feel it until he was out of the water, the sharp pain of his dislocated shoulder. Breathing heavily he crawled over to a nearby rock. He got on to his knees and into position. "one.....two.....three!" He slammed he is shoulder into the rock and popped it back into place. Letting out a yell of pain followed by a sigh of relief he collapsed onto the sandy beach and looked up at the sky. Apart from a few cuts and and bruises he was okay. After a few minutes he brought himself up and moved over to where most of the people had gathered. He put his hands into his pockets with a second sigh of relief he felt it, His lucky swiss army knife. He then proceeded to help nearby survivors while also searching for his things.

Kat was like . . . well, a cat. She always landed on her feet. Apparently in water this time. It all happened in a matter of seconds. One second she had been enjoying a Scotch on the rocks, lounging in her first class seat, the next everyone was screaming, the plane was shaking and . . . Kat got her cam out. She wasn't a screamer. No she was a recorder. She got it all. The flames out the window. The Air Stewardess screaming their heads off like headless chickens. Any other time. Kat could have laughed. Just before the plane plunged down, Kat stuffed everything important to her - iPhone and Camcorder - into her her handbag and then next thing she knew she was going down, down, down and then SPLASH!!!

She pondered all these events as she dredged herself up the shore, pulling sea weed off her leg. He black dress soaked through and through, handbag clutched in her hands. Shivering as she joined the the group of people already gathered. Least she wasn't alone. Silver lining. She kept telling herself, controlling her temper. Silver lining. Pulling her -waterproof, thank God - cam out, she started filming.

Getting a nice close up of a guy on the ground. His ripped shirt revealing a nasty wound. Now, Kat, wasn't a particularly charitable person but she knew if the wound wasn't cleaned, it would no doubt be infected. Rustling one hand through her handbag, she pulled out a miniature bottle of spirit she'd got from the plane.

"Hold still." She instructed the guy as she leveled her cam on the ground to get a good shot as she opened the bottle and poured, bracing herself for the scream that was no doubt to proceed. "I was going to drink that so you better appreciate it."

Doug blinked a few times and tried to breathe, a mouth full of salty fish piss greeted him, he finally rose above the surface. "What the fuck happened" He was still processing the events that had transpired in a matter of mere minutes. He looked around, his carry on bag securely strapped onto his back. He gripped onto something hard that hit him in the shin, as he pulled it up it was a bag, he looked at it and nodded. Doug started to swim forward, soon it turned to slowly treading through the waves.
He made it to the shore and looked around seeing that many people had gathered. He threw the bag down and opened it. He pulled out a water proof jacket and a empty water bottle, everything else was mush or soaked through, he zipped it back off and dumped it on the ground for anyone else. He searched the pockets finding a lighter, he then rolled the water proof up and held it with his armpit. Doug looked at his feet, his sandals were gone, floating somewhere in the sea. He shrugged, that wasn't his biggest problem.
He had no wounds except for a few bruises and small cuts and grazes, he looked at his watch, thank god for water-proof technology. It was pretty early, if his watch was correct. He pulled out his binoculars and put them around his neck. Next Doug started to walk around, seeing a bunch of random bags, finally he saw the familiar ANIMAL logo, he rushed to it and brushed it off, checking that everything was fine he approached the group. "Shit, he going to be alright?" He asked as a girl treated a man who seemed to be cut pretty badly.

"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.

His awareness came and went. There was sound - voices, or wind. It filled his head, made it feel swollen, misshapen.

There was hot and cold. His body was heavy, a mass dragging him down. As he sensed his body more fully, could put names and purpose to his arms, legs, head, the deafening sounds abated.

Water pushed him gently, back and forth on a sandy beach. He rose to his feet, wobbly and off balance. The light hurt his eyes and he lifted his hand up to shield them.

It took what felt like a long time to process the scene around him. It all seemed out of context, alien and unreal. The huge metal object on the beach was an unrecognizable protrusion on the landscape until his mind started retrieving memories of the last day, of the plane ride.

The people moving up and down the beach, still floating in the water, stopped being simply confusing sounds and images, and became his fellow passengers.

A man was close to him, blood staining his shirt, his hand pressing a bundled up length of shirt into the wound. He stumbled forward, toward more survivors.

“Stop right there,” Walter called, “Sit down now, you’ll only make it worse.”

He hurried to the man’s side, his feet slipping a little in the sand. When he was at the man’s side he reached forward, trying to pull the sandy, dirty shirt out of the wound and examine it.

The young tattooed man seemed to stop bleeding after Ray finished tying his bandages. He still looked like shit, but it was going to have to do. The young guy gripped onto Ray firmly. Ray could tell that he was scared. "He looked at him, You're gonna be okay you know," he said trying sound calm and like he wasn't freaking out. "I've seen a lot worse, hell I've been in a lot worse. This one time, When I was hiking in the wilderness in Canada, I tripped and fell off a path, ended up falling off a small cliff and breaking my right tibia to the point that the bone was out of place. At this point I was off the path in the Canadian wilderness, my leg was pretty much busted, and the nearest ranger station was about 3 miles back the way I came. The way I saw it I had two options." he looked at the now shaking man. "Option one, stay there and probably get eaten or freeze to death. or option two, do something about it. I'ts pretty obvious which option I picked. So I made my self a splint for my leg and a nice crutch like stick and I hiked back. Luckily some other hikers found me a about half of the way back." Ray patted some more blood away with another shred of his shirt. "But you know, breaking my leg wasn't the most painful part of that experience.' " Ray smiled to him and let out a small chuckle. "It was putting my leg back in place that i'll never forget."

Ray looked at the woman who had helped him treat the man. "We make a good team, I would have used my mini alcohol bottle but I drank it on the plane. " He said with another smile. The best thing he thought he could do now was stay calm and try to shed some light on there situation.

Kat wasn't sure about the whole good team. She only played on one team. And that was Team Kat. But that shit could get you killed or burned at the stake on an island like this. And she did not intend to be dinner. But, he was kinda hot. She could dig that.

"It's cool. I got plenty more where that came from." She smiled, picking up her cam and pointing it at the guys. Yep. She'd stuffed plenty of those little bottles into her bag. She figured, if she was going to make it through this trip to Japan, she was going to need them. It wasn't racist to think Japanese people were insane. It was just a fact.

"So!" Kat began her inquires. "Who are you are? And why were you going Tokyo? Picking up a Japanese bride?" Kat joked.

She wasn't going to die. No this would make a fantastic documentary. Forget Anchoring. She was going for the big leagues now. Talk show? . . . Possibly . . . Probably not. She didn't have the patience. Might end up slapping the guests.

"Or to visit one of those cuddle cafe's?" She jested again. "Shit's real."

Yeah real freaky. Kat thought. It was then the tattooed, gashed up guy spoke up. Kat shifted her cam onto him. He had a tight grip on the man who she had just been questioning and then he was out.

"He dead?" Kat asked.

If he was. She wasn't going to be burying the body. The sea was as good as any grave. Kat didn't do dead bodies. However, on the other hand . . . This documentary would definitely be a hit!

The collapsed woman seemed to be in good hands.

His kit was heavy in his hand as he walked further down the beach, full of tools and supplies, but to his mind, not nearly heavy enough. He’d only brought it to be able to use his own equipment at the conference. The supplies - sanitary wipes, hydrogen peroxide, sutures, and rubbing alcohol, all were very low. The medicine - anesthetics and antibiotics, had maybe two doses each. Not enough to treat even one patient properly.

He shot the sky one more quick look, still hoping for the sound of helicopter blades. Then his mind was back on the beach.

A clump of people gathered around a wounded man. A makeshift bandage covered his back and side, and he clung tightly to another man. One woman, a blonde, held a camcorder in her hands. Walter sighed heavily, looking at her in disapproval.

“Please let me look at him,” he crouched down next to the man, who was covered in so many tattoos that they blurred into an indistinguishable mass.

Those tattoos were torn and bleeding, all down the left side of his back and across his arm. The makeshift bandage was protecting the wound in places, but they’d left the man’s shirt on, and its dirty edges were pressed into the wound. The bandage itself was another shirt, and though it would stop the bleeding, it was doing nothing to protect from infection.

“Alright, first we need to get the rest of his shirt off. You just keep a hold on him for now,” he said to the man as he crouched down and opened his kit. The top folded open revealing a row of metal instruments, held in place by rubber straps. Those rested on a shelf that he lifted out and placed in the sand. Below, at the bottom of the kit, were the few meager first aid supplies.

He set aside a half full bag of cotton balls and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Then he took out a pair of scissors and cut away what remained of the man’s shirt, exposing more scraped skin.

As he did this he asked, “Who here as the strongest stomach?”

---

---

After approximately three minutes of laying the shore of the beach taken by an all consuming blackness Rebecca emerged groggily with her eyes shut tight hoping that the foggy feeling in her head would disappear already.

"David..." She called as she offered the boy an out stretched her hand, but he never so much as replied. This is wrong she thought... as she pondered the memory that she thought she was in. The fogginess was the same, and the discomfort was the same but the auditory, olfactory and tactile inputs were nothing like they were supposed to be. She could hear waves crashing upon the shore instead of the harsh beeping of heart monitoring equipment, she could smell the overwhelming scent of salt instead of the sterility of rubbing alcohol and pristine nothingness, under her fingertips was sand almost as harsh as the words he left her with, but not nearly scarring enough. Rebecca opened her eyes slowly taking in the light of the tropical sun that jarred her into the realization that she was not on Long Island anymore.

"Shit." She muttered, she hardly ever cursed but this situation called for it. She sighed heavily as she shook all the I can'ts and I won'ts out of her mind. If this was her reality she had to survive it and make it off the island.

Rebecca looked behind her swiftly as she raised her voice to a mild holler.

"Does anyone need help? I'll assist in anyway I can." Beck said as she got to her feet, she was a bit woozy at first but kept her stride strong as she made her way over to a gaggle of people who were removing the shirt of a highly tattooed man with a few serious looking nicks and scrapes.

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.

Doug watched as the woman in front of him came to life and walk off to the big group. He got to his feet and followed. "Yo man, she's awake" He said as he reached the group. He looked at the man who was injured, it looked really bad. He could imagine the pain. "Will these help?" He pulled out the scissors, tweezers and wet wipes he snagged earlier. He held them forward to the group. "They're not much use to me" He added. He turned to see that a new guy had arrived, he didn't know how to answer so he waited for the others to. He kept the items extended for them to take them off him. He took another look at the man, that guy working on him seemed like he knew what he was doing, maybe he was a doctor? He thought to himself. Doug was one of the lucky ones who made it to safety with little to no injury, obviously there was about 2 people who had no such luck, though it seemed they would live.