Disclaimer: I do not own Jimmy Neutron or any related characters.

Jimmy sat on a log, taking a sip from his water. He looked around at the camp. Everyone had worked hard the past ten days to get signals up for a rescue plane. Five signal fires were placed around the island. They had help spelled out in rocks. They had plenty of dead firewood for burning and green wood for smoke signals. There wasn't much else that they could do.

Cindy put down her backpack and sat down beside him. "Hey. How you doing?" she asked.

Jimmy ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Good, I guess. Something should have happened by now."

"Give it time, Jimmy. This has to work," she said as snuggled up against him.

"I don't know, Cindy. He had maybe a week's worth of water and food. The human body can go three or four days before getting dehydrated. Something better happen soon."

Meanwhile, Nick was lying down on the middle of the raft. He looked to his left at all of the empty water bottles. He hadn't had anything to drink in three days. His throat felt like it was on fire. He could barely move, every inch of his body ached.

It's too late for me. Someone will find this raft eventually, but I'll be dead. But how will they know to go save the others if I can't tell them to? There's got to be a way to let then know others survived.

Nick struggled to get on his knees. He crawled over to the fire pit. He felt the bottom of it and pulled his hand out. His fingers had ashes on them. He put his hand back in and covered his fingers with ashes. He pulled out the mirror in his pocket with his other hand. He began to write on the mirror with the ashes.

29 men live after crash. Head south. He struggled to fit the words on the mirror, he didn't have too much room. He slid the mirror into the bedroom on the raft. Nick collapsed onto the floor and closed his eyes.

Six Days Later

A small private plane was flying over the ocean. "So, how's the wife?" the pilot asked.

The copilot smiled as he took a sip of water. "Yeah, Helen's fine."

They sat in silence while they flied the plane. The copilot squinted as he looked ahead. "Hey, Jim? What's that thing out there?"

Jim, the pilot, glanced at the ocean. Something was floating in it. "Let me get a closer look," he said as the plane dropped some altitude.

"What the hell is that?" the copilot questioned.

Jim studied the raft for a moment. "Don't know, it kind of looks like a raft. Yeah, I think it's a raft. Better radio this in," he said as he flipped a few switches on the radio and grabbed the microphone.

"Pan-pan, pan-pan, pan-pan. This is Jim McFields reporting. I am flying a private plan at approximately forty degrees longitude and twenty-five degrees latitude. We have spotted what appears to be an emergency raft directly below us. A ship should be sent in to rescue them. Do you copy, over?"

"This is the United States Coast Guard. Your pan-pan has been received. Please confirm the following information. Location is approximately forty degrees longitude and twenty-five degrees latitude. A raft of unknown origin is in this area and is in need of naval rescue. Do you confirm, over?" a voice came over the radio.

"I confirm, over," Jim said.

Ten minutes later a patrol boat pulled up to the raft. Two Coast Guards stepped onto it and saw Nick's lifeless body.

"Poor kid. Probably survived a shipwreck or something, only to die on the ocean," on of the men sadly said as he shook his head.

"Hey, look at this," the other man yelled from the raft's bedroom. He walked out of it and showed his comrade the mirror. "Twenty-nine...uh, men. Live, after, crush? No, crash," he said, struggling to read the smudged ashes. "Head south."

The entire beach camp was laying on the sand, completely depressed. Yesterday Jimmy had told them that the raft must not have worked. Everyone stared at Jimmy as he jumped up.

"Everybody listen!" he shouted. They all became silent and stared at the sky. The low buzzing slowly became louder as a plane came into sight. "You know what to do!" Jimmy shouted.

Two people ran to each signal fire to make sure that they were well lit. They threw green wood on it to make smoke. Everyone else ran on the beach waving brightly covered clothing. Jimmy and Cindy used mirrors to try to signal the plane.

"This is Johnson reporting. We have definite activity below. You better send in a rescue team," the pilot said into his radio. He circled the island to try to let the kids know that he had seen.

"Why's he circling? Shouldn't he be landing?" Cindy asked.

Jimmy could barely speak, tears of joy were running down his cheeks. "He can't land a plane on an island. He's letting us know he saw. He must have radioed in a rescue ship."

An hour later everyone was on a large ship, heading home. Jimmy and Cindy stepped out of the lounge where the other kids were cheering. They walked along the deck and leaned against the railing.

"You did it, Jimmy. You saved us," Cindy said as she hugged him.

"No. We did it," he corrected her. They both stood still in silence for a second. "That was way too cliched, wasn't it?"

"Definitely," Cindy laughed.

"So, you kids have been through one heck of an adventure, huh?" an officer asked as he stood next to the kids.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but we've been through worse," Jimmy said. Cindy nodded her head. "So, did Nick tell you where we were?"

The officer looked a little confused. "Who's Nick?"

"The kid on the raft. That's how you found us, right?" Cindy asked.

The officer sighed and paced around for a second. He hated this part of his job. "I'm very sorry, kids. He was dead when we found the raft. We found you guys because he had written a note about where you were," he said before walking off.

Jimmy took a few steps forward and sat down on a chair. Cindy took a seat next to him. "Four are dead," he whispered.

Cindy grabbed his arm and led him back to the other survivors. She motioned to all the kids laughing and talking. She bent her mouth down to Jimmy's ear. "But twenty-nine live."