Hey, I'm in the process of writing a book. It's slow going, but I'm hoping to get published. Here are the first two chapters. There's some adult language, heads up. sur·viv·al noun 1. the act or fact of surviving, especially under adverse or unusual circumstances. 2. a person or thing that survives or endures, especially an ancient custom, observance, belief, or the like. in·stinct noun 1. an inborn pattern of activity or tendency to action common to a given biological species. 2. a natural or innate impulse, inclination, or tendency. 3. a natural aptitude or gift: an instinct for making money. 4. natural intuitive power. The first sensation he felt was pain, pain everywhere. Remembering to breathe, he coughed up briny seawater. His eyes cracked open, and all he saw was bright white. He closed his eyes again, it hurt too much to keep them open. Coughing less now, starting to breathe more. Lets try the eyes again, he thought. He opened them and saw a big white blur and a big dark blur. 'Better than nothing.' He thought. He looked down, his hands buried in sand. He blinked again, still coughing a little, and looked up. The trees he saw he didn't recognize, so he looked behind. Now, his ears started working again, and he heard the waves crashing into the reef. A few hundred feet offshore, there was surf. Here, closer to land, there were just gentle waves. The water close to shore was clear, further out it turned to turquoise, and by the time it reached the reef, it was a deep blue. He decided to try moving. His legs were mostly numb, but slowly, they started to move. He slid up the beach a little, working the numbness out of his limbs. He stopped, feeling very accomplished by the fact that he could move again. Then, realization sank in. He was completely alone on a beach somewhere, surrounded by things he had never seen before. He felt very vulnerable. He crawled towards the treeline, trying to ignore the feeling that the entire world was watching him. The thirty feet between his resting place and the green wall that was made of trees and shadow seemed like a mile. When he reached it, he fell over, exhausted. He closed his eyes and didn't open them for quite some time. Chapter 2: 'Fuels?' 'Check.' 'Electrical?' 'Check.' 'Nav?' 'Check.' 'Where's our passenger? Though we had filled our jump seat.' 'uh... Hang on." The co pilot turned around in his seat, looking down the length of the aircraft. He saw the Warrant Officer checking the cargo straps, making sure everything was secured for flight. The transport aircraft was filled with sealed crates measuring eight feet squared, with a walkway down the very center. The co pilot could see the length of the aircraft. No passenger was in sight. He keyed his intercom 'Tower, Star 220.' 'Star 220, Tower. Go ahead.' 'Tower, where's our jump seat? I thought he was taking this flight.' 'Star 220, he cleared security already. He should be on the way.' 'We don't have anyone on board except crew. I'll get our Warrant to check outside.' He turned the transmitter to the local frequency, only the crew on board would hear him. 'Mike, you see our Jump? He should be here.' 'Yeah, Carter. He came aboard a few minutes ago. Hang on.' Mike walked through the crates, stopping about half way down the fuselage. 'Hey, you can't fly here. You need to be in the jump seat. After takeoff, you can go where you want.' The man was laying down on the floor of the aircraft, using his single bag as a pillow. He stood slowly, bringing his bag with him. He was in his late 20s, and his ID card indicated that he was a civilian contractor working for the air base. His dirty blonde hair was messy and cut short, but not military short. 'Alright, man. Lead the way.' Mike waved him to the front of the cargo hold, towards the cockpit. There, tucked into the side of the airframe, was a small seat made of tubular aluminum and nylon webbing. It was folded against the side of the plane, and held in place by more webbing. The passenger followed Mike to the front and dropped his bag on the floor. He folded down the seat and settled in, looking much less comfortable than when he had been resting on the floor. Mike turned to go back to checking the cargo but stopped short. He addressed the passenger, who now wore a grumpy look of someone who is not where they want to be. 'I'm Mike. Your name is...?' It was too dark to read the ID tag now. 'I'm...' Then, nothing. He tried to think of what happened after, but it was like he went to sleep. One minute talking to Mike, the next, waking up on the beach. He sat there, trying to piece together what happened, but it wouldn't come. 'Fuck it." He thought. 'Sitting on the beach gets me nowhere.' He stood up, testing his legs. They were wobbly, but working. 'As long as I don't need to run...' He stayed in the trees, walking parallel to the beach. He couldn't figure out why, but the treeline felt safer to him. He picked a direction at random and started off, seeing nothing but ocean on his left and trees on his right for some time. The sun was high, almost straight overhead. He had some time before dark, and wanted to explore more. After another hour, he was starting to get tired again, when he saw something on the beach ahead. It was red, and looked to be about the size of a t-shirt. He walked along until he was as close as he could get without leaving the trees. It was a scrap of plastic, with writing on it. He looked around, waiting, and when he was doubly sure that there was nothing out there, he darted out, grabbed the scrap, and ran back to the trees. Once there, he turned the scrap over in his hands, and read what was printed there: "Warning: ............. this life raft may ............. performed by those ............. properly trained by ............. employees." The label was torn, removing much of the message. There were only two words that mattered, though. "Life raft..." Like remembering a dream, it started coming back. He remembered seeing a red duffel bag, underwater. Around him, torn and twisted pieces of airframe fall through the water. He looked down, and saw them fall into black nothingness, miles deep. A rush of air and noise above him grabbed his attention. He looked up to see the duffel bag growing and spewing bubbles, forming itself into a life raft. He swam to it but it kept rising out of his reach. His vision going red at the edges, he realized that he's been underwater for a long time. He made one last push for safety, seeing his hand reach up for a strap of webbing hanging from the raft. He wasn't ready for it to be moving that fast... It flew out of his hand, sailing upwards to the sunny surface above that he can see but cannot reach. His arms grow heavy, and before the blackness closed around him, he saw that the light above him isn't the sun, but fire. Fire everywhere.
