Your seat is uncomfortable, again. This is the fourth plane you’ve gotten on in as many days. You look out the window from behind the wing, over the seemingly endless, glassy blue ocean. You hear the captain come over the intercom, again. He says something about flying southeast or something in a boring monotone voice. You don’t catch the rest, as you weren’t really listening. You’re just sick of the noise of people in all directions. Fussy babies, snoring, kids playing noisy handheld games, people complaining about cramped legs, some jackass talking loudly on the plane’s phone about something that sounds like he takes more seriously than he should. You shut your eyes, and try to go to your happy place for a moment, before your seat gets kicked from behind. Again.
The monotone noise of the engines sets your mind to wandering. You wish you hadn’t already read the couple of thin books in your carry-on. The ten hour layover in that little airport/bus station in the middle of nowhere burned them quickly, though. You look out the window again, but this time, the sky is starting to darken a little. Raindrops splatter against the glass, and in the distance, you see lightning shoot between the clouds. ‘Great,’ you think to yourself, ‘this means another layover at our next stop.’ People talk in hushed tones, and are ushered to their seats by the flight attendants. You lazily buckle your seatbelt at the request of a cute, but tired looking attendant.
Just as your seatbelt is buckled, the plane bucks and jolts sharply. It then straightens out almost immediately, and you hear the boring monotone come over the loudspeaker again. The plane is ablaze with peoples’ voices, and attendants trying to calm everyone down. A deafening hiss of static comes over the loudspeaker, and someone’s cell phone emits an eerie, banshee like wail. You close your eyes, and cover your ears as people begin to scream in true, unbridled horror. Your head wants to explode, your heart is pounding, and you struggle to breathe. Just as suddenly as it came on, everything stops. The plane is dark, and silent. Your skin crawls in terror as you realize that the engines are dead.
The plane shudders and you hear the metal groan, as if it were under heavy stress. An electronic-sounding hum pierces the very walls of the plane, forcing you to grit your teeth. As it gets louder, the plane trembles harder. The horrifying mechanical wail reaches a deafening crescendo as a bright white column of light rips a hole straight through the bottom of the plane, and vaporizes the ceiling above the new hole in the floor, about four rows in front of where you are sitting. The intense heat is almost as unbearable as the blinding brightness, but not as bad as the screams, or the smell of burning flesh. The people in front of you are incinerated in a moment that feels like forever, and then you see the sky. The front of the plane is completely gone, and your field of view begins to tilt downward. After a couple of seconds of seeing the ocean rush up to meet you, you pass out from the intensity of the freefall.
When you awaken, you are lying face down on a floatation device. Your legs and arms are scraped, and your clothes are torn in various places, but you do not seem to be injured badly. The sun rose not too long ago, and the sky is clear, except a few wispy clouds high in the sky. Your floatation device is on pristine white sand, not far from a gathering of people you recognize from the plane. Someone has hastily scrawled a makeshift compass in the sand, with North pointing inland. To your north, you see the point where a large, sweeping grassland meets a huge amount of tall trees. Above the tree line to your northeast, you see a looming grey mountain, topped by a smoldering crater. On the beach are various small bits and pieces of twisted, melted scrap metal, a few floatation devices, and a mini-fridge that has washed up. It is very warm, and there is a light, salty smelling breeze blowing.
You turn and face the ocean, and your heart sinks. You have no idea where in the world you are, but the only thing you can think about right now is your family and friends. You fear that you will never see them again.
Welcome to the island. It is morning, day one.