Chapter 2

There was an eerie silence. My movements in the water produced a strange muffled swooshing noise and, despite the amount of water in the cabin, I was sweating. It was still difficult to breathe.

The door to the small cockpit had been flung open by the impact and as I got closer I saw the pilot was dead, his head against the controls and a small trickle of drying blood marking the corner of his mouth.

I re-focused my attention on the main door to my left. I turned the handle and heard a hiss, like the sound of air escaping. I sighed, wiped my forehead with the back of my arm, and pushed with all my might. Even with the intense throbbing in my head I put every ounce of strength I had into the task and finally it budged, just a little.

It was then I heard a groan from behind me. I craned my neck and looked towards the back of the plane. It was the man who had called me an arsehole.

“Are you all right?” I called out.

At first there was no answer.

“Are you okay?” I called again. “Are you injured?”

The sound of my own voice was somehow comforting in the eerie aftermath of the crash.

I started wading towards him.

“Hold on. I’m coming,” I said. “I’ll help you out.”

“Thanks buddy,” said the man. “I think I’m okay.”

I leaned over the dead woman in the aisle seat and pulled him to his feet.

“I’ve managed to open the door a crack, but I need some help to get it all the way open.”

I looked at the sliver of daylight that shone in through the narrow gap around the door.

“We haven’t got much time!” I said. “The water’s pouring in.”

Once the man was in the aisle he leaned down and released the seat belt that restrained his female companion. I watched as he tried to shake her awake. He was calling her name, “Helen. Helen.” Each time his voice quivered more. He tried to pull her up, but she was a dead weight in his arms.

I looked back at the door and realised something. In my panic I had only assumed all the other passengers were dead.

“We’ve got to hurry,” I said. “Check the rest of the passengers, and I’ll try and get the door open.”

But the man stayed with Helen, begging her to open her eyes.

“Now!” I yelled. “Check for survivors. Check their pulses.”

He looked at me, pressing against the door, his expression all at once accusing, irritated, and fearful, but I couldn’t let what he thought of me deter me from doing what had to be done. Finally, he took the wrist of the man sitting opposite him, checked for a pulse and then shook his head. He continued, checking Walt before moving onto the three passengers in the front seats.

“All dead,” he said, letting the arm he was holding drop back into its owner’s lap.

“Help me with this door. I think the force of the water behind it is making it difficult to open, but we’ve got to try harder if we want to get out of here alive.”

Together we worked on the door, pushing with everything we had. My head felt as though it were splitting, but my determination to survive the disaster outweighed everything else and when the door squeaked and the bright light of a tropical sun filled the small cabin I started laughing.

“We did it,” I shouted. “Now, can you swim?”

“Sure I can,” the man replied.

“We’d better start then,” I said as the water rushed in and the plane began to sink at a more rapid rate.

Without another word I dived through the door.

“What about sharks?” I heard the man ask.

Up until that point I hadn’t considered sharks, but the minute he mentioned that word I imagined I saw dark shadows gliding beneath the surface of the water.

“Just swim,” I called back, trying to block all thought of man-eaters.

I heard a splash and was soon joined by a man whose name I realised I didn’t know.

“I’m Clint,” I said.

“Carlos,” the man replied. “Where are we swimming to?”

I was treading water and spitting out small mouthfuls of salt water. It was almost impossible to see anything in the distance over the uneven surface of the water.

“I’m not sure,” I replied.

“Shouldn’t we stay by the wreckage? Won’t it be easier to spot from the air?”

It struck me as being a very good idea, excellent, in fact, yet by the time we turned the wreckage had almost completely disappeared, leaving no more than a profusion of bubbles to mark the spot where it had been.