His legs burned from the friction as he came sliding through the tall grass, his calves dragged along the loose, red/brown soil. The grass slapped at his face as he descended below its three foot height in his seated position. His parachute, still fifteen feet above him, was snagged by the wind, dragging him up the slope at the base of the mountain. He struggled against the pull with his working arm, tugging on the chord dangling down by his side. He slowed gradually, the silence ringing in his ears. The jungle around him rang with crickets, frogs and running water; a chorus of wilderness sounds; but it was mercilessly quiet relative to the crash. Adam sighed as the parachute continued to drag him uphill, towards the base of the mountain, shrouded in trees and cliff faces.
With a grunt, he unclipped the parachute from his pack, one shoulder at a time, struggling against the pull, being swung sideways as he slowly released the latches which tethered him to the chute. There was a hiss of nylon fabric, and then the parachute shot upwards, towards the mountain, unhindered by his body.
He breathed deeply as he stopped in the deep grass; face up, towards the pink, cloudless sky. He grabbed his injured arm with his other, cradling it on his chest, trying to keep it away from the grass and the ground. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt his skin shaking all over from the adrenaline flowing through his veins. His eyes flitted about rapidly, trying to keep on top of his breathing. He held his breath for two seconds before releasing it, trying to get as much oxygen as he could, but he still had to fight the urge to pant uncontrollably. He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him as he fought panic. His body ached all over, and his head hurt. He had no urge to move, or to think; he simply wanted to lay here in the grass and look up at the sky. The sounds of the jungle gradually grew in volume as his hearing adjusted, and the sound of a slight breeze rustling the grassy field, the tall silvery blades swinging back and forth in the growing light.
He frowned at the morning sky, wondering dimly why it was morning; he was certain that it had been in the middle of the afternoon. But his mind was working slowly, and his thoughts reached no deeper than this simple observation. He breathed heavily, his chest heaving up and down, staring upwards blankly. His view was largely obscured by the grass above him, and his vision blurred, before sharpening, and blurring once more. At the periphery of his vision, towards his feet, he could see the tops of trees, swaying slightly in the wind. At his head, he could see a sharp cliff, rising steeply above the field, looming over him.
It was wet here; the grass had dew, and tiny rivers running across the green surface. His clothes were becoming wet, and soggy as he lay there in the grass, steadily getting wetter and wetter. It was a strange sensation of getting damper, a creeping cold seeping against his skin.
There was a rustle in the grass, out of sight, past where his feet were positioned. He couldn't see anything, nothing but the slight tingle of grass being parted. The blades off to his right bent over slowly in the distance, before moving back into place. He looked around, finding himself unable to speak, for his breathing was too fast. He raised his goo arm into the air, waving slowly in wide arcs.
A second rustle emanated from his other side, sweeping through the grass of the field. The first was now closer to him, sweeping back and forth, just a few feet away. He could hear the low breathing of another person, close to his position.
His throat made a grunt as he exhaled, and he tried to call out. The rustling ceased.
"Where is he?" a voice called, echoing in the grassy expanse. "I saw him land somewhere up there."
"Over here!" another called, followed by a sudden rush of footsteps.
Adam looked up as a man's face popped into view above him from behind his head. It was the gray-haired man, in his fifties. He bore scratches on his left cheek, and his business suit was ripped to shreds, but he otherwise appeared unharmed. He reached down to Adam, and lifted him into a seated position.
Adam grunted as pain shot through his shoulder, and his head was lifted above the height of the grass. He could now see out into the field. It was more expansive than he had thought. The grass extended left and right further than the horizon allowed before the curvature of the Earth blocked his view. They were boxed in by jungle on both sides, and the sheer cliff of the mountain far above them, rising several thousand feet upwards. From here he could see down the steady slope of the island towards the ocean. He could see a small crescent of pure white sand, marking the edge of a beach. Off to the right of the beach, he could see the rocky outcrop of the lava field, running out into the sea, the dark rock starkly different from the rest of the scenery, miles away.
With a rustle, another man appeared next to him, and he saw that it was the burly man who had jumped after Hadlow. He was tall, and strongly built, his meaty face creasing into a smile at the sight of Adam.
"Captain, I have a complaint to make about the in-flight entertainment," he said gruffly, breathing heavily as he ran up the hill towards them.
Adam wheezed through a laugh, and looked at them both.
"Are you hurt?" he said to them, his voice gravelly.
Both of the men shook their heads, and Adam sighed as he got to his feet, feeling his shoulder tighten in protest as he flexed. He looked up towards the mountain, high above them, the sunlight forcing his to squint, and he found that the ridge was over a thousand feet up. In the distance, nestled in a flattened ridge below the peak, cluttered with vegetation, was a thin trail of smoke, rising up from the crash site.
There was no sign of the other survivors who had parachuted in after he had been sucked out, but he had seen them deploy their parachutes, so it stood to reason that they would have landed elsewhere.
The men were looking around at the coast.
"I don't see any villages," the burly man said.
"I didn't see anything on the way down," the gray haired man called, wandering off a dozen metres towards the jungle. "Maybe this place is uninhabited."
The burly man shook his head vehemently. "No way; and island of this size? This place is huge."
The man motioned up at the mountain, which was one of many, forming a mountain range which extended off towards the island's centre.
Adam coughed as he walked through the grass. He saw his parachute some distance away, snagged in the upper branches of a lone tree in the field, dancing in the wind. The sun beat down on his neck, and he felt his skin tighten as the sweat on his body evaporated quickly.
It was hot here; the air was humid and stuffy; his pilot's uniform was already beginning to make him hot under the collar, and he shrugged off his outer jacket, lying it down in a pile on the ground, feeling the wind blow against his shirt.
He unbuttoned his cuffs, and his neck, twirling his head in the new freedom of movement.
But he was confused as to why it was hot here; it should be freezing cold, and there should be no humidity, and no tropical jungle. This place looked like it belonged at the equator, but they had been most definitely flying over the Bering sea, which was damn near the north pole, running between Alaska and Russia.
He shook his head in confusion as the men stumbled around in the grass.
"Well we need to find help," the burly man said. "Captain, where are we?"
"I don't know. We should be somewhere in the Bering sea, near Alaska, but there's no land on the map for over a hundred miles. This island is uncharted."
"Jesus, it's hot," the gray haired man said.
"Shouldn't be; it was freezing on the plane," burly said.
"It gets cold at thirty thousand feet, genius."
"Ah, shut up."
Adam held up his hands. "Listen, we sent out a mayday before we jumped, if it was received then a rescue party will be sent in the next few hours."
"What if they didn't receive it?" the gray-haired man said.
Adam looked at his watch briefly, and sighed through pursed lips. "We're due to land in Alberta in three hours. When they miss us there, then they'll start looking. So we just have to sit tight."
The men seemed contented.
"What's your name, captain?"
"Adam," he said, "Adam Sheppard."
"I'm Ted West," the gray haired man said. "What about you?"
"Matthew Thorne," burly said.
The men nodded to each other, and looked up towards the ridge.
"Where are the others?" Adam said.
Ted motioned down the slope, towards the beach, where the jungle began. At the tree line, there was a small group of orange parachutes, flattened against the ground, fluttering in the tall grass. Three small figures were moving between them, walking around in the field.
"There are two kids and a red head down there. And I saw some other chute fly off towards the coast."
Adam nodded. "That was Hadlow, the co-pilot."
"Must have been rough landing on the lava field; you think he's alright?"
Matt shrugged. "What about the others?" He pointed upwards, towards the ridge, high above them.
"They jumped too," Adam said, "I saw them." He decidedly left out the incident he had witnessed. In his mind's eye he saw a sickening image of a person impacting the tail of the DC-3. He shook his head to get rid of the image.
The three of them started off down the slope, towards the group of parachutes.
The young couple were sat in the grass, atop one of the folded chutes, staring ahead blankly. Adam crouched down in front of them, and saw the tears on the young woman's face, still flowing freely from her eyes. The boy had his arm around her, his face stony.
"You two okay?" Adam said.
They both nodded silently.
"Any injuries?"
They both shook their heads, the girl sniffing slightly. The boy was shaking slightly; it looked as if they were both in shock.
"Names?"
"Malinda," the girl said in a whisper.
Adam nodded, and looked to the boy, bony faced with deep set, harsh eyes. "Graham Mars."
Both of them appeared uninjured, and he was sure that they would both be fine; he decided to leave them too it, and stood up slowly, looking around. They had moved quarter of a mile downhill towards the grouping of chutes, which Ted and Matthew were now wrapping up into bundles.
There was a definite air of shock about the entire area; everybody was silent. There was no idle chat, hardly any movement. Everybody simply kept to themselves, staring blankly. The crash had put them into a state of disorientation, and it was taking a long time to wear off. By now, the sun was climbing higher into the sky, and the ocean far below them was twinkling brightly.
The red-headed woman lay against a rucksack, groaning in pain. As he crouched down next to her, she smiled weakly. The cuff of her trousers on her left leg had been rolled up to her knee. In the middle of her shin there was a reddened, painful looking swelling.
"You okay?" he said.
She looked at him, slightly incredulously. "Peachy."
"How's your leg?"
"It hurts, a lot. But it's not broken, I think."
Adam looked down at the pale flesh of her leg, and then back up to her. "You sure?"
"Yes," she said testily, her red hair flaring about her head in the bright sunlight.
"How's that? You a doctor or something?" called Ted, wiping his brow.
She shook her head. "I qualified as a nurse."
Adam smiled. "Good. We might need your services. What's your name?"
"Sarah Every," she said, breathless, wincing.
Matt walked over, his large figure casting a wide shadow over them. "Great, so everybody knows each other. What are we going to do now? In case you've forgotten, we just crash landed on an island. What are we just sitting around for?"
Adam waved him down. "Don't worry, rescue will be here soon enough; all we have to do is be patient."
"And what if nothing happens?"
"Then we'll scope out the coast," Adam said confidently. "Look, we'll be fine. I want Malinda and Graham to stay here with Sarah, and I need you two to come with me." He stood up, stretching his injured shoulder, moving his arm up and down, wincing in pain.
"Where are we going?" Ted said, piling up two neatly folded orange chutes.
"I need to find Mr. Hadlow, and bring him back here. He may be hurt."
"What about the rest of the people?" Malinda said, her voice quiet and high, pointing up at the ridge.
Adam looked up at the mountain, sighing at the column of smoke rising into the air, being swept south by the wind.
"It'll take all day to get up there, and we don't know where the other people landed."
Graham looked up. "But there are supplies up there."
Adam shook his head. "We get Mr. Hadlow first, and then we get back here. By the time we get up to the ridge it'll be too late to get back before nightfall. We have to go tomorrow."
The others didn't look happy at his decision, but nobody defied him, and they became still, looking up at the ridge. Adam flexed the fingers on the hand of his injured arm, and milled it around in a wide circle, gradually getting its use back, ignoring the sharp pain exploding like fireworks underneath his skin.
"Okay," he said, "You stay here." He motioned to the young couple and Sarah.
Ted and Matt stood behind him, on the gradual slope, leading down to the jungle, and further on the beach, miles away. Adam nodded to them, and they set off quickly towards the tall trees.