Gerard, Bob, and I were still wrapped together, all three of us shaking.

"Are we dead?" I whispered.

"No, I don't think so," came a whispered voice in my ear, I couldn't tell from whom. That was when I finally dared to open my eyes.

"Oh good God," I whispered in shock. That's when Bob and Gerard opened their eyes as well, though their arms remained tightly around me. More silence.

We were seated upright on a beach, no cockpit, and nothing behind us. There didn't appear to be anyone alive on the left hand side of the cabin, some had obviously broken necks, and one, in the back row, appeared to have had an arm snapped off. I shuddered in horror, and closed my eyes again.

"Jet fuel," Bob suddenly whispered.

"We gotta get outta here!" Gerard whispered back. He suddenly broke away from Bob and I, threw off his seat belt, and stood up. "Mikey?" he said tentatively over the seat.

"We're ok, Gee," came the voice behind me.

"We gotta get outta here now," he repeated loudly. Apparently, at this point, my medical training kicked in.

"Ok," I shouted. "If your alive and able, stand up! If you're injured and alert, make some movement or sound!" I waited until it was done, and thanked God again when I saw Zara standing in her seat. Everyone on the right side of the plane was standing now, and one woman in the last aisle seat on the left hand side was raising her hand. "Ok, now, someone help her out of here. I'm gonna check for pulses, and I'll meet you on the beach! Now go!" I continued. My eyes locked grimly with Zara's.

"I'm staying with you." I nodded to her, and pushed past Bob into the aisle, watching as the men in the middle row helped the injured woman on the ground off the plane.

"Gerard, wait," I said. I ran to the front, and grabbed the first aid kit off the wall, thrusting it into his hands.

"Don't stay," he said. "This could blow up at any second, come with me." He held his hand out to me, and I shook my head.

"No," I said. "And take the beverage cart. You may need it. My name is Angel Emerson, I'm from Kennebunkport, Maine. Tell my parents I died trying to save lives. Now go!" I pushed him towards the door, and turning to face Zara. In identical movements, we reached into the overhead compartments and pulled down our bags. We had both taken to traveling with our stethoscopes and blood pressure cuffs ever since my father's heart attack several years before, and we quickly pulled them out. Zara had found a second first aid kit attached to the wall, and our eyes met briefly, before we turned to our task.

The first row went quickly. All three had broken necks, they were dead.In the middle row, two were dead, but the red-haired woman on the aisle had a pulse.

"Quick, get her out!" I said to Zara, and she hurriedly complied, stuffing the first aid kit into her pants, and heaving the woman over her shoulder.

"I hope to God she doesn't have any spinal injury!" she said, as she brushed past me. "I'll be right back."

There were only two people left in the back row, and amazingly, both men had weak and thready pulses, one bleeding copiously from the large wound in his stomach, and the missing arm, the other with no visible signs of trauma. I stuffed three airline blankets down my shirt, and began to try to pull the whole man out. As I tried to hoist him over my own shoulder, I mentally cursed my tiny stature. In the end, I settled for pulling him out by his feet.

As I was backing him out onto the sand, my rear end hit something, which grunted. I jumped, and looked behind me to see Zara towering over me.

"Window seat, back row is alive!" I shouted at her.

"I've got it!" she shouted back. "Go!" As I began trying to hoist him over my shoulder again, a two men ran up to me.

"Take him!" I shouted at them, turning to aid Zara on the plane. She had her arms looped around his torso, and I quickly picked up his feet. We moved him as quickly as we could off of the plane.

"Run!" she yelled, as soon as our feet hit the sand. We didn't stop our strange three-legged race until we reached the section of beach inhabited by the other survivors, looking back the whole time waiting for the explosion. Once we reached our destination, I dropped his legs, and pulled one of the blankets out of my shirt, spreading it out on the sand, and Zara laid him on it. In nearly identical motions, we then pulled two more blankets each out of our shirts.

"Get me a bottle of water!" I shouted, and a moment later, one was thrust into my hands. I pulled the cap off, and poured half the water over the stub of his arm, handing the rest to Zara, and began pushing one blanket against the wound. Zara, I could see, was doing the same to his stomach.

"Someone make sure the other two are breathing!" I shouted.

"Cardiac arrest!" Zara suddenly shouted, and we exchanged helpless glances, then both automatically checked our watches, before she moved up to his head, and pinched his nose, breathing deeply into his mouth. I straddled his chest, and together, we began CPR.

"Six minutes," she said grimly. I began to press harder, with all my strength.

"Switch," I said finally, and she began the pressing, and I the breathing. As she pressed, I checked my watch again.

"Ten minutes," I said, and our eyes met again. We continued on, however.

I was straddling his chest again, using all of my strength, when she finally said "Twenty minutes." I sighed, and leaned back, wiping my forehead, before checking my watch again.

"Call it," I said wearily.

"Do we need to?" she asked in reply.

"I guess not," I said, getting up, pulling the blanket out from under him, and placing it over him, covering his face. "Triage?" She pulled a face, and nodded.

"I suppose," she replied, sarcastically. "You wanna take the chick, I'll check the dude, and then we'll look at minors?"

"You're on," I said, as we wearily made our way to the next round. The severely injured woman seemed to be sitting up now, next to the other injured woman, and Bob seemed to be sitting with them, while the only other uninjured woman was sitting by the injured man, who still appeared to be unconscious. I left Zara to him, and moved to the trio sitting in the sand. I knelt in front of the woman who Zara had carried from the plane earlier. Bob had a gauze cloth held to her head, it appeared to be full of ice from the beverage cart, which stood looking very odd not far away.

"Hi," I said, looking into her green eyes, which seemed to slide in and out of focus. "My name is Angel. Did you hurt your head?" She merely nodded. "I need you to answer, ok honey?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice slow and shaky.

"Ok, are you hurt anywhere else?" I asked.

"I don't think so," she replied.

"Can you tell me your name?" I asked, beginning, as I had been trained, to try and determine if she was altered.

"Charlotte Lawson," she replied, sounding a little sharper this time.

"Where were you born?"

"Sacramento," she said.

"California?" I asked, and she glared at me.

"No, Kansas. Of course California!"I laughed.

"Sorry, I had to ask, to make sure you're not going to die on me," I explained, stealing a glance back at the man covered in the blanket. I reached over and pulled Bob's hand and the ice away from her head, and moved her red hair to the side, looking at the cut near her temple. I sighed, it would need stitches, thank God I had done my ER rotation last semester! "It's probably gonna need a couple of stitches," I said, grabbing Bob's hand and putting it and the ice back on her wound. "Just hold that there for a moment." I got up, and moved to the next woman. "Hi, I'm Angel. Where are you hurt?" She laughed.

"My name is Victoria Taggart, I'm from Albany, New York, and it's my ankle," she replied. I laughed.

"Nice to meet you, now, tell me if I hurt you." I took her foot in my hand, and began first feeling the bones, then twisting and turning her foot to see her reaction. "I think it's just a sprain, it doesn't feel broken. Can you wiggle your toes?" She did so, and I smiled. "I'll wrap it up tight in a few minutes, and we'll just have to keep you off it for a while, but it should be just fine in a week or so. "I patted her knee, and moved away, towards Zara and the motionless man. "How is he?" I asked.

"Still out," she said, "and his breathing's a little wheezy. How are the girls?"

"Sprained ankle on one, the other has head trauma, possibly concussion and she'll need a few stitches. You wanna stay with him, and I'll check the others out?" I asked.

"Sounds good," she replied, I grabbed one of the first aid kits beside her and walked away, towards the rest of the men, who now seemed to be hauling brush out onto the beach, attempting to make what looked like a bonfire.

"Hey," I said. All six turned and looked at me. "What are you doing?"

"Starting a fire," Gerard replied. "Something big enough that any search planes will see it." I raised my eyebrow appreciatively.

"Good idea," I said. "I'm here to check you all out, make sure no one over here is missing any limbs or anything." As soon as the little joke was out of my mouth, I shuddered again, remembering the man we couldn't save. Gerard seemed to notice.

"He died?" he asked gently. I nodded, and quickly wiped my forehead again. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok. Anything feel broken? Your vision ok? Any cuts?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Mikey and Frank both have some cuts, but I think the rest of us are ok," he replied.

"Well, let me take a look, it'll just take a second." He nodded, and called them over.

"This is my brother, Mikey," he said, indicating a tall, thin man wearing thick, black framed glasses, with sandy brown hair. His eyes were wide and worried.

"Hi Mikey," I said gently. "I'm Angel.Can I look at your cuts?" He had two, one on his arm, and one on his neck, though neither was deep. I opened the first aid kit, and pulled out some antiseptic, dabbing it on quickly and covering them with band aids. "All done!" I said cheerfully, and turned to the other, which I assumed was Frank. He was about my height, and covered in tattoos. His eyebrow, nose, and lip were pierced, and his black hair was cut close except for his bangs, which swept over one eye. The cut on his cheek was obvious.

"I'm Frank," he said.

"Angel," I replied.

"All I have is this one cut on my cheek."

"Alright," I leaned over and looked at it, it was fairly deep. I looked up at him and frowned. "It's gonna need stitches."

"Where am I gonna get stitches around here?" he asked, laughing. I raised an eyebrow, and picked up the stethoscope hanging around my neck.

"I'm not a doctor or anything. This is just a sex toy. I like to wear it in public, though, it makes me feel special," I said.Gerard and Mikey burst out laughing. "You're an idiot," I finished, laughing.

"What are you gonna use, needle and thread?" he asked, laughing as well.

"No, see, this magic box will give me what I need if I ask real polite and rub it three times," I replied. "Come on, I've got to stitch up someone else too, I might as well do both at once." I grabbed his hand, and began to pull him across the beach.

"I've gotta see this!" Gerard said, laughing. "Hey Ray, Phil! Frank's gonna get stitches! Again!"

"Cool!" I head them yell, and soon they were all grouped around as I got ready to sew. The box did indeed hold everything I needed, a surgical needle and surgical thread, syringes, and pain medication. I decided to stitch Charlotte's head first, and after numbing her head, worked as gently as I could. Then I turned to Frank, chattering away to Gerard about something or other, and stuck the syringe into his cheek as he spoke.

"Hey! That hurt!" he said, though as he finished his sentence, his words became slurred as the side of his face went numb. I smiled, and set to work, six guys staring intently over my shoulder.

"There!" I said finally. "All done!"

"Do I get a lollipop?" he asked.

"No, but you may have some booze off the beverage cart," I told him. He sprang to his feet, and began looking through the alcohol. "Get one for Charlotte and one for Victoria too!" I shouted. Then I moved over to Victoria, and wrapped her foot.

"Thanks," she said, her pale blue eyes shining in her pale, thin, face.

"No problem," I said, as I stood. That's when I was hit by everything that had happened, it welled up inside of me like a trapped animal, and threatened to tear me apart. "Excuse me," I choked out, and turned my back on them and walked towards the ocean. I sat in the sand at the water's edge, looking down at my white shorts and light blue tee shirt, now both covered in someone else's blood. I stared out at the ocean for several minutes, the ocean had always been my friend, but now, no familiar lighthouse looked back at me, no fishing boats trolled the little harbor. I was completely lost in feelings of helplessness, and this ocean felt foreign, an enemy. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, and on the horizon, I could see a thick plume of smoke.I knew it was the rest of the plane. I shook myself, and knelt in the shallow water, and began to scrub my arms, hands, legs, and face, desperately trying to wash off the blood. I sat back on my heels, and looked out over the water. "This is ridiculous." I said to myself. I finally composed myself, and stood up, walking slowly along the beach until I reached Zara, the as yet unidentified woman, and the unconscious man. "How's he doing?"

"No change," Zara replied. "And no sign of injury, it must be internal."

"What should we do?" I asked, and Zara laughed, a dry, harsh laugh.

"You're the one who did the surgical rotation. You tell me." I sighed.

"I guess we wait and see," I said softly. I stared out across the nearly deserted beach, the boys now had a blazing fire going, I noticed. I turned to the unfamiliar girl, a tanned, thin, blond with a round face and dark brown eyes. "I'm Angel Emerson."

"Amanda Lewis," she replied with a shake in her voice, staring at my bloodstained clothing.

"Nice to meet you," I smiled weakly at her. My attention turned to the shell of the first class cabin. It still had not exploded, or burst into flames, it just sat there on the beach. It wasn't even smoking. I looked down at my clothing again. "This is ridiculous!" I said again, and strode off with purposeful steps towards the corpse of the man, still covered with a blanket, laying on the beach.I grabbed hold of the blanket underneath him, and began dragging him behind me as I strode towards the cabin.

"Angel, what the fuck are you doing!" Zara shouted. I didn't turn, merely waved my hand, and picked up my pace. I climbed back up into the cabin, and gently settled the man's corpse back into his seat. I then returned to my seat, reaching up and opening the overhead bin, and pulling down my bright red, hard-sided carry-on on wheels, and my purse. After some searching among the bodies, I managed to find my book. Then I went to the seat where Zara had been seated, and extracted her silver bullet carry-on, and her purse. In the overhead compartment across from mine, where I knew everyone was dead, I extracted a floral suitcase on wheels, and quickly opened it, tossing all of the contents on the floor, with the exception of soap, shampoo, a razor, toothpaste, and Tampax. I then headed to the flight attendant's station in the front, and began rummaging around. I found a sewing kit, a few more boxes of bottled water, and a couple boxes of granola bars, which I packed into the woman's suitcase. Then I went around the cabin, taking every blanket and pillow I could find, and stuffed what I could into the woman's suitcase. I found yet another suitcase on wheels in the overhead bin, with the name Donald Sampson written in ink on the name tag. Since I hadn't heard mention of a Donald among the survivors, I emptied everything from his suitcase as well, with the exception of toiletry items, and filled it with the rest of the blankets and pillows. Finally, I attached the suitcases together, and made my way off of the plane, hoping to never step foot in there again. As I walked confidently towards the rest of the survivors, who now stood, staring at me, in a tight knot behind Zara and the unconscious man, dragging my bags behind me, I could see the sun beginning to set behind the group.

"What the fuck were you thinking!" Zara yelled, as I dumped the bags on the sand beside her.

"Lay off, Zara," I replied, warningly.

"She's right," Gerard said softly. "It could have gone up at any second."

"Relax," I said. "I didn't light a match." I think it was then that they realized that I was right, because a mass exodus began, many feet running in the direction of the plane, and what belongings they could salvage. I knelt calmly beside my red suitcase, and quickly opened it. After a few minutes of rummaging, I found what I was looking for, my red, white, and black, Hawaiian, floral print, surf bikini, a tight halter top, and boy shorts. I picked them up, and strode off into the wooded wilderness behind us, finding a large enough tree, and stripping down. I returned to the beach quickly, now in my bathing suit, and deposited my underwear and bra into my suitcase, and extracting my bottle of shampoo. My stained tee shirt and shorts I folded tightly, and placed in a zip lock bag in the very bottom of the suitcase. Then I ran as fast as I could into the water, running, shampoo in hand, until I was nearly waist deep, and making a clean dive into the water.

It was warm and salty, and the waves relaxed me instantly. Here, I was at home. I knew I couldn't linger long, however, the sun was setting, and I wanted to give Zara an opportunity to clean off. I pulled my long, black, wavy hair out of the low bun at the base of my neck I had worn all day, and opened the shampoo bottle. I didn't just use it on my hair, either, I scrubbed every inch of myself. When I finally felt the dirt, grime, and blood wash away, I capped my bottle, and headed, reluctantly, out of the water.

When I got back to my suitcase, I could see everyone making their way back to us with their belongings, some helping others, like Charlotte, with her head injury, and Victoria, who couldn't walk, and was leaning against Bob. I pulled out my black beach towel, and toweled off as well as I could, and put on my black board shorts and my red flip flops.

"Go," I said to Zara. "Before it gets dark.I'll watch him." She nodded, and as I settled myself beside the man on my towel, I saw her veering towards the trees to change as I had done. She returned momentarily, as I had done, now wearing a tiny, bright yellow, string bikini with large, white polka dots. As she rummaged through her carry on for soap or shampoo or whatever, I realized that that was the big difference between Zara and myself: all of her swimsuits came straight from Victoria's Secret, mine from a board shop. And I didn't even surf! I just knew that the stuff I'd find there was made to be hard to take off. Yeah, I was far more modest than Zara would ever think of being. I soon watched her figure slowly wading into the water.

Notes

I gots nothing to say....