The BAU is requested to assist in discovering a prolific serial killer in Southeastern Asia since the disbandment of the IRT. After losing contact with the jet, the team is presumed dead until they're found on a remote island four months later. This is their story of survival before and after their rescue.
If anyone would like to lend their nautical knowledge, I'd greatly appreciate it.
I've been wanting to write a BAU island story for a while. I finally found the right hook in my dreams. This chapter is short, but it packs a punch.
Profiling Survival
Day 127:
The USCGC Connor
Captain Benjamin Summers was reading the morning security briefings, when his radio went on.
"Captain, this is Borgan, we've spotted what looks like a signal fire ten kilometers northeast of our current course."
"Understood," he said and put his tablet aside.
He radioed his pilot.
"Coordinate with Borgan to redirect to northeast of our current course."
"Aye, Aye."
Summers contacted his first mate.
"Page are there any reports of missing vessels in the area?"
"Aside from the plane carrying federal law enforcement agents, negative."
"Get medical ready to disembark when we approach the island."
"Yes sir. Do you think it could be them?"
"I don't know, but I want to be prepared."
"Yes, sir."
…
Dr. Diana Fields was the chief medical officer, sitting at the rear of the jet boat. First mate Adam Page, sat next to her.
"I checked before we left," he said. "There have been no other reported distress signals of any kind in the area."
"From what I've read, that plane should have never taken off. Who flies a plane during a monsoon?"
"Someone nuts," said second mate Jim Wick. "I saw the flight path, no one would have thought to search this part of Micronesia for them, it is so far off."
As they approached the island, a woman appeared. She screamed. Another woman appeared. Then four men, one appeared to be on crutches, came into view. The men had full beards. Everyone's clothes were ragged and patched together with plants.
"This has to be them," Page muttered.
"We're saved!" a woman screamed.
"I'm first mate, Adam Page," he said as he got off the boat. "Are you the agents missing from flight forty-five?"
"Yes!" a woman shouted. "I'm Emily Prentiss, this is Tara Lewis, David Rossi, Luke Alvez, Matt Simmons, and Spencer Reid."
"I'm Dr. Fields. Is anyone in need of immediate medical assistance?" Fields asked.
Rossi gestured his left leg cut off at the ankle.
"This is healing fairly well, all things considered."
"We'll take you first," she said. "Anyone else? I read there were nine of you."
"The pilots, Don Hayes and Adrian Carver, died. Jennifer Jareau is resting," Prentiss said. "She is roughly three months pregnant."
"We'll take her also."
"Please!" Simmons sobbed. "Let me talk to my wife and kids!1 They must think I'm dead!"
A woman with long blond hair appeared, holding her slightly bulging belly. There were tears in her eyes.
"Is it really over?"
"We're going to get you home," Page said with a smile
She reached for Reid and hugged him.
"We're saved," Prentiss said.
The crewmates watched the team exchange looks. Relief, happiness, and a little fear crossed their faces. Hope prevailed.