The minute I open my eyes, a white-hot pain shoots through my head. It's worse than any hangover I've ever experienced and I have to think hard to remember exactly where I am.

That's where the problem occurs. I have no idea whatsoever where I am. I remember getting on the plane. After that...it's all sort of blurry.

I have to blink several times just to realize that my eyes ARE open and I haven't gone blind or anything. It's just that wherever I am is pitch black. No light filters in through windows or doors...nothing. I can't even see an inch in front of my face. I've never felt so out of sorts. So unnerved.

With a slight hesitation - because there is no telling what I'm likely to see - I pull the platinum lighter from the pocket of my jacket. Deep breath in...and I flick the button, the small flame illuminating a portion of my surroundings.

The first thing I realize is that I'm definitely still on the plane. I'm seated in the same leather seat. My safety belt is still fastened across my lap.

Then I shine the light to my left and I see Cynthia, her head resting back on the seat at an awkward angle. I put two fingers to the side of her neck and feel a pulse. She's alive, just unconscious.

Now I just have to check on Justin and Rory. I unbuckle the belt and slowly stand up, testing my legs, should I have an injury that I can't see or feel. Slowly I feel my way over to the other side of the plane and I swear, my throat constricts, so that no air gets in or out. I'm just know I'm going to choke on my nerves.

PLEASE let Justin be okay!

The meager light finally falls upon the pair and I jump as I see a pair of deep brown eyes staring back at me. "Rory? Are you okay?"

She nods but moves her dazed gaze down to her lap, where she still has a death grip on Justin's hand. I can't see anything wrong...and then I move the light a little further over and I do see it. And I grimace. Justin's forearm is very noticeably broken. It hasn't broken through the skin, but the bone is angled in a way that leaves no question in my mind that it was snapped in half, probably from hitting the arm rest. Thankfully, there are no more noticeable injuries on him.

It takes a bit of encouragement, but I convince Rory to let go of his hand, and carefully - oh so carefully - I place his arm on his lap, trying not get sick when I touch it and feel the feverish skin surrounding the break.

"Rory...I need you to help me okay?" She nods, still unable to speak. "We have to get the door open." She gets up, glancing back at Justin worriedly, and grabs onto my arm so that she knows where I am at all times.

When we find the door, I pocket my lighter to conserve the lighter fluid, should we need it for any reason. It takes a bit of pushing and pulling on both of our parts to get the door lever to budge, but eventually it creaks and I push it open. Light floods through the opening and I throw my arm over my eyes to shield them from the harsh glare of the sun.

"We have to get Cynthia and Justin out."

"What about the pilot?" Rory asks shakily, finally finding her voice.

I glance towards the nose of the plane and see it firmly imbedded in the trunk of a large tree, crumpled like a piece of paper. "I'll...check on him after we get them out." He's likely dead anyway. Who could have survived that?

This is where I have to turn my brain off. I have to, else I'll go crazy thinking of what could have happened. And what DID happen. I move automatically back into the plane and set about doing what I need to do. No thinking required. I Don't think about the fact that we could be anywhere. Don't think about injuries that will need a doctor's care. Don't think about the possibility of not having food...or water.

Don't think - just move.

***

The first thing I'm aware of when I begin to wake up, is a lingering pain in the back of my head, almost like it was struck with a two-by-four. What happened? Did someone hit me? Did I fall and hit my head on something?

All of my questions are pretty much cleared up when I finally find the strength to open my eyes. There it sits in all of its glory. The small La Belle plane, once sleek and streamlined...is now broken and planted in a tree. One of the wings is digging into the earth and I wonder if that's what slowed us. If it hadn't slowed us, then maybe all of us would have been planted in that tree.

Well look at me! Looking on the bright side of the situation. Rory will be so proud.

Rory! Brian and Justin! Where are they? Are they hurt? Alive?

And then I hear them...and see them. They're slowly climbing through the door of the plane, carrying something between them. It looks like...it is! They're carrying Justin. Oh no! Is he...dead?

"Make sure his arm doesn't move," Brian instructs Rory as they continue moving him towards me.

I'm sitting in a soft bed of leaves, somewhat enclosed by several of the fallen trees. I guess this is the destination for the sick and wounded. I sit up a bit more and make room for them to put the young man down beside me.

"Cynthia!" Rory cries out happily, when she sees that I'm awake. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Just dandy." I try to, but I can't seem to look away from the scene of my boss moving his hands all over Justin. Except, for once, the man's completely detached where the kid is concerned. His eyes are devoid of emotion, like he's gone on auto-pilot. "What's he doing?"

"Looking for any other breaks. Justin's arm was broken," she says sadly.

"Shit..." For the first time I really take a look around us. There is a break in the dense forest, where the plane took out a few smaller trees, but beyond that there's nothing but trees, trees and more trees. There are also vines and probably lots of wild animals too. This is perfect. "Where the hell are we?"

The other two look at me as if I've just screamed rape or something. What? Like everyone else wasn't wondering the same exact thing? I can't help that I'm vocal.

"We're not sure. Maybe...there are maps...or something?" Poor Rory. She looks even more lost than I feel.

Brian finishes his examination of Justin and eyes his broken left arm somewhat fearfully. At least I think it was fearfully. The look is gone as quickly as it came. And the big guy is right back in zombie mode. "I'll go...see about the pilot." See about? More like confirm that he's DOA.

"Rory, help me up, would you?" Making sure to support my back, Rory helps me to stand.

"What are you doing?" Rory asks, holding my arm firmly as I go to step over one of the fallen trees.

"Stay with Justin. I'm going to see what I can find of our luggage."

"No."

"Rory, we have to find supplies." It's true. I may not know much, but this is no time to be milling around, trying to think positively. That we'll be rescued right away. That there's actually a hotel about fifty feet away. That...somehow, we're actually okay right now. Because we aren't. I looked out the window not long before it happened. Before we went down. We were over the fucking ocean! There is no way to know where we are!

"I'll go."

"Rory..." It's not that I don't have faith in her ability... Okay, I do. A little. But I don't want her to get hurt. And I want to get this done as quickly as possible. It's at the very least the middle of the afternoon, and I really don't want to be sitting out here when it gets dark.

"Cynthia! Sit down and keep and eye on Justin. Make sure he doesn't move his left arm," Rory snaps, pointing to the spot I've only just vacated. I look away and sit back down with as much dignity as I can manage.

"Just make sure to look for the first aid kit too," I call out to her back.

Looking down at Justin, I realize that his eyes are squeezed shut tightly, as if he's feeling the pain. And I'm sure he is. But he's sweating and beginning to thrash around. I quickly stroke his shoulder, hoping to calm him, and he cries out softly almost like a hungry kitten.

"Hang on, Justin. Everything will be okay. It's okay." I whisper to him - I whisper to myself.

***

I take a shaky step towards the plane and immediately sink. The heals of my knock-off Gucci pumps are caught in the mud. Just beautiful! I manage to wiggle out of them and with great regret, I hit them against a tree until the heals break off. They aren't comfortable in the least, but there is no way I'm walking around this jungle with bare feet.

What am I looking for again? Oh right - Luggage, first aid kit, and we could probably use a little food from the mini bar.

Bless the corporate big wigs of La Belle for being guilty of gluttony! The small refrigerator is completely stocked. We might have to ration it, just in case, but...it should last us a while.

The first aid kit is next to the door and I toss it onto the ground outside before going back to search for suitcases.

And then I hear Brian scream. Well...not scream, so much as bellow. "Someone get over here and help me! NOW!"

I hop out of the door and motion for Cynthia to sit her ass back down. She might feel fine, but that little goose egg on the back of her head screams of a concussion and I'm not going to let her take any chances.

I'll be damned if someone dies on me! Honestly! I've seen Alive and there's no way in hell I'm gonna be eating one of my friends!

I see Brian right away. Though his back is to me, I can tell he's straining to move something. "What's up?"

"He's alive."

"What?" I look at the nose of the plane, buried in a very thick tree. The cockpit had to have been crushed like a tin can. How could the man possibly have survived?

"You heard me. Now get over here and help me get his legs." Brian moves just enough for me to see that the man is indeed alive. He's shaking visibly, but he seems to be unconscious. Thankfully so. His legs are pinned between the seat and the controls, but it's his feet that are the problem. It would seem that his seat must have slid forward a bit on impact. His feet were caught beneath it and it has effectively gotten him stuck.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Uh...why don't you see if his feet will budge," Brian suggested. And that's what I do. I manage to free one and I think it may be broken, but the other is just bent and the toe of his boot is caught on something.

It takes a little bit of struggling, but Brian finally manages to pull the seat back enough so that we can lift the man out. Just like with Justin, he takes the legs and I take the arms. Hooking my arms underneath the pilot's shoulders, I can only hope that I'm not hurting him any further.

"He alive?" Cynthia seems a little strung out now and I nod, giving her a look that reminds her that she had better not move.

We put the pilot down a little ways away from the other two. It's odd, but he seems like such an afterthought. We all figured he was dead. And now he's not. There are five instead of four. And it almost seems wrong.

"What do we do now, boss?"

I look at Cynthia, who is staring up at Brian, worry clear in her eyes. Brian shakes his head. "Survive?"

Something about that vague answer makes me want to laugh. Hysterically of course. I'm not actually finding it funny or anything. It's just that...here we are. Five babes in the woods, so to speak, and not a one of us has a clue of what's going on. Or what to do.

I start back towards the plane. I need to finish my search for the luggage. Oh - and cry. Yeah...I need a good cry.

***

"Brian! Brian, I think he's waking up." I hear someone say. I think it's Cynthia. But...what's Cynthia doing here?

Where is here? And...Why do I feel like I was just hit by a Mack Truck?

I can't really get my eyes open. But where it was once nothing but blackness behind my eyelids, there are now a series of bright flashing lights. Neon lights. And they're making me sick.

"Shit!"

Was that Brian? And why did he say shit? This...can't be good.

"You still have to do it, Brian." That sounds like Rory. "It has to be reset before we can wrap it."

It takes a minute, but I finally pull my eyes open with a force that takes my breath. "Wha's...goin on?" I whisper after another moment. My throat feels like sandpaper.

I'm a bit intimidated by the three faces hovering above me. They look upset and a little disappointed. Like...I wasn't supposed to wake up.

Rory tries to smile. "Sweetie...you passed out."

"Why?" I croak.

"The plane..." Cynthia begins.

"Crash?" She nods at my question.

Yeah. I can remember that now. Trip to Paris. Brian, Cynthia, Rory, Me...all accounted for. Right. We crashed? Hmm...that...sucks.

I'm almost about to close my eyes again, when Brian's face leans in closer to me. "Justin? Justin...this is gonna hurt, okay? Just...breathe. It'll be over soon."

I think I nod, but I can't really tell. I look into Brian's eyes for more reassurance, though I don't know why. Only know that it's supposed to hurt - whatever IT is.

Then I hear a loud crack and a pain like I've never felt before, shoots through my left arm. And all is dark as I pass out...again.

To Be Continued...