The scene was chaos. The sight of burning wreckage, severely injured people with no chance of survival, was just too much. The air was stained with the smell of jet fuel and blood. If you were one of the lucky ones who got out in a condition good enough to escape, you would be in shock, and your frayed-out common sense would tell you to stay as close to the wreckage as possible. The worst part was the screaming, but the still-running engines mostly drowned it out. Screaming. Screaming means survivors, right? After a while, though, more of the screams died, as well as the survivors omitting them. And even after the small chance of surviving a plane crash, there were some who still came out unscathed. These were the truly lucky people, but even they didn't know what to do. One example of such a survivor was Parker Melville. He hadn't even lost consciousness. Well, he had, but it was only for a few seconds, falling out of the plane, until he hit the water, which woke him up. He got out of the water, and he knew from his days in the Navy that you need to find survivors. He saw a woman with brown hair, knocked out cold, but still visibly breathing. He ran over to her, grabbed her arms, and pulled her away from the wreckage. He shook her shoulder, trying not to cause her any more injury. No response. He shook her shoulder harder.

"God, I'm awake, ok?" the woman said, standing up.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Ignoring him, the woman took in the shock of the wreckage. Sensing tears, screaming, or even fainting, he walked over to her, prepared to catch or comfort.

"Well, this sucks." She said flatly. Staring at her in disbelief, Parker yelled,

"We were just in a plane crash! People are dying!" she shrugged. He shook his head, and took off in search for other, more grateful, people to save.

"Hey, wait! What's your name?" She yelled after him. Ignoring her, Parker flew into the depths of the wreckage.

Ivette Lebeau sat by a seat thrown from the plane. She wasn't sure that what just happened was real, much less possible. How does one survive impacting with the ground and finally scrambling out of a crashed plane with only a small gash on the head? It wasn't possible to survive a situation like that. But she did. While in her thought world, a man in a suit literally jumped over her, almost knocking her down.

"Pardon me." She said quietly. She followed him with her eyes, seeing that he was helping a pregnant woman. Curious, she stood up and walked so she was just in earshot. The man in the suit was talking to a larger man.

"I need you to get her as far away from here as possible."

"Dude…" the man ran off to help another young man in a suit who was giving a black woman CPR. A man standing next beside her tapped on her shoulder.

"Excuse me, I think, um, the wing…" he said, pointing to the dangerously unhinged plane piece. She heard yelling and turned to see the man in the suit yelling at the large man with the pregnant lady.

"Move! Move! Get her out of here!" The wing was falling. The man started sprinting away from her. She followed him. She could hear the massive thing falling and finally crashing. She looked up at the guy who warned her about the wing.

"Thank you" she said gratefully. He burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"I survived a plane crash and a wing fall. This is a new high!"

"What?"

"Sorry. I'm being rude. Adrian Bradford." He said, holding out his hand.

"Ivette, er, Ivy Lebeau."

"Guess we'll have to keep in touch when we get rescued, eh?" he said with a wink.

Two blonde haired men stood side by side. One smoked a cigarette.

"Yeah, plane crash, huh? Good thing my wife wasn't on the plane. I'm married, you know? Did one of your friends die? Sorry. At least you're alive." One of the men rambled. The one smoking a cigarette rolled his eyes; not wanting the attention the other one was giving him. "Sorry about your friend. I was travelling alone. Fun, huh? I'm Henry, Henry Swallow." He noticed the man's cigarettes. "Can I have one?" The man sighed and handed him a cigarette. "Lighter?" He rolled his eyes again and handed the lighter over to Henry. Henry lit it, inhaled too deeply, and then started coughing. The first man laughed to himself. "I've, uh, never really been one for smoking." Henry confessed.

Abigail Moore sat at a safe distance from he plane, helping a person with a hurt arm. She felt it over, and the girl, with black hair ad blue eyes, snapped at her every time she hit something that hurt.

"Can't you do this faster, damn it?"

"It only looks like a small wrist sprain with some bruising. You'll be fine."

"I don't feel fine. It's been five hours and rescue hasn't come."

"It'll be here soon enough. What's your name?" Abby asked, changing the subject.

"Leah."

"I'm Abby." A large man walked over to them, carrying two packages wrapped in foil.

"Here you go, dinner." He said, handing the packages to Abby, who handed one to Leah.

"Thanks." Abby told the man.

"No problem." he said, walking away.

"So, Leah-" Abby was cut off by a loud, machine-like, mechanical sound coming from the jungle.

"What was that?" Leah asked, walking towards the jungle.

"Why are you walking towards it?" Abby asked, following her. More people joined them.

"What was that?" A girl in a skirt asked.

"That was weird, right?" A British man said. Some trees started falling down.

"Did anyone see that?" the pregnant girl asked.

"Yeah…" Tammy Moroz walked towards the woods too. She was rubbing her shoulder where the man had shaken it earlier today. She hadn't gotten his name, and didn't really care. All her attention was focused on whatever was tearing up and throwing lots of trees. The survivors stared at the unseen, not really sure if it was safe to go to sleep. Many people were worried that rescue hadn't come. The ones comforting them were still worried, but they were good at masking their fears. Even though they were all strangers, they all shared a bond. They survived a tragedy and now all have one common interest: SURVIVAL