The Island, Chapter 5 - Sex Stories

The Island, Chapter 5

Chapter 5 Joelle and I emerged from the dense jungle lining the beach and walked out onto the sand. Reaching the makeshift hospital ward, we checked on the field hockey coach, whose name I learned was Danielle. She was a tall, thin brunette in her late twenties. She was still unconscious, but seemed to be restless now instead of comatose. Her foot had a bounding pulse, and it looked like our traction scheme had worked to keep her fracture reduced. Checking on the few others that couldn’t get around easily, like Connor, I quickly ascertained that all were doing well and needed no immediate attention. Quite a pile of supplies had developed on the sand, thanks to the salvage crew. They had removed all of the loose articles, and apparently were busy dismantling the interior, as seats and wall panels and all manner of plastic pieces were lined up next to the luggage. Several of the passengers had taken on the job of unpacking suitcases to dry out the wet clothing and other items within. I made the trek out to the plane, carefully negotiating the sharp coral of the reef. I found Janie supervising a team tearing wiring out of the walls. “This should be useful for tying things together, like maybe a shelter,” she mused. “I feel like we don’t know how long we’ll be stuck here. We should get everything off of this plane we can. Who knows what use we may find for even the stupidest piece of crap.” “You’re right, as usual,” I agreed. “How about the radio, though? Is it still working?” ...

... She looked pained. “No. The entire cockpit is destroyed. It must have caught on a rock when we ditched, because it’s almost ripped right off the plane. Everything inside has either been broken or ruined by the water. The main cabin is a little higher out of the ocean. Other than some wet bags that were on the bottom of the cargo hold, most everything is dry and in pretty good shape.” Shouts drew our attention to the emergency exit over the wing. Climbing out we heard a woman shouting, “There’s someone in the cargo hold! He’s still alive!” We scrambled off the wing onto the rocks below. The cargo door was open, and a Korean woman was peering out, gesturing to us to enter. “He looks pretty beat up and half drowned,” she said to Janie. “That’s your cue.” Janie gestured for me to climb in first. I hauled myself into the bay, and moved in a crouch to the back wall, where the woman was pointing. I could see a dark shape seemingly wrapped around a support beam. Clambering closer over the remaining suitcases I was able to make out a man, unconscious, his arm wedged through a hole in the steel strut. He was an enormous, muscular black man, about 6’6”, with a shaved head. The back of his shirt was torn to ribbons, and he had multiple shallow lacerations across his back. I guessed at some point he had been dragged across the reef by the waves. A quick survey revealed no head injuries, and he was breathing slowly and deeply, with a regular if slightly rapid pulse. “We need to get him to ...