It spluttered, barely maintaining a line in the air. Tom found himself jolted forward, winded by his seatbelt. Now it fell, not directly down, but leaning towards the green sea below. Tom pushed himself quickly back, his sweating face resting against the back of his chair. No announcements. Nothing. he closed his eyes, mumbling incoherently to who knows what, please please. But he could feel a lurch to the left a lurch to the right, his book falling across the aisle. He shut his eyes again and counted slowly, but the numbers lost themselves as he felt a jolt backwards again, trying to pull up. He hastily tried to re-assure himself, but now he could hear a screetching, juddering, unplacable sound. Suddenly he jerked forward again, the seatbelt winding him again, his face smashing into the fake leather of the seat in front, his luggage falling.......
      He dreamed of buildings and police and seedy gameshows. Of lifts and passwords and of being hunted. In a sweat he slowly became aware of his own conciousness. When he opened his eyes he saw nothing but clutter - piles of unsorted jumble covering him. He had a splitting headache, coupled with a stabbing pain in his chest. He wrenched himself up, his foot trapped briefly in what was the arm-rest. The floor was at 45 degrees, so he put 1 foot tentatively on it, and the other on the side of his chair. In this way he jerkily walked to the front, clutching his chest with one hand. In his state, he did not see what was in the seats, and he stumbled to the door, which was ripped off at the hinges.
       He pulled himself through it, climbed through some entangled branches, and jumped painfully down to the sand of the beach below. He again winded himself, and fell exausted into a heap on the floor, twisting his arm. He closed his eyes and thought about standing up, before deciding just to lie there.
       A while later he found the strength to pick himself up. he stumbled across to a bit of shade, and sat down, now fully concious. His head rung and throbbed, and he held it in his hands as he briefly tried to rationalise himself away.
       His headache suddenly became an all-consuming pain. He winced and pressed his head against the gritty sand, muttering deleriously. He heard a noise, a human voice. It came from somewhere nearby - he didn't register it for a second.
       He slowly opened his eyes, and, shielding them with his hand looked up. there was a looming mass above him.
       He whispered.
       "Yeh."
       "are you alright," replied the blur. The words grated through Tom's head. He debilitatedly groaned, and drew his hands sharply to his ears. He could still hear apparently distant voices, but not for long, or ever again.