Mary wished that she had stayed unconscious. From the pain she knew that she had been hurt worse than she ever had in her life. Her wet felt sticky, gross, and wet, the last of which instilling a sense of fear.

I’m bleeding, she thought.

The smell of smoke, spilled wine, and fuel was in the air. Mary felt for her seat buckle as she gathered her surroundings.

The plane’s cabin had split in two down the middle. Mary out into the exterior of the plane before her. The entire cockpit had separated from the body of the aircraft in the crash and was nowhere to be seen.

Mom Mary thought and panic seized her. She couldn’t believe that the other passengers weren’t her first thought and looked around wildly. Her mother had been standing up right before the plane impacted with the earth.

She could see that several passengers were missing from their seats. Did they wake up before me? Mary hoped that the ones that were not present were outside trying to call for help. She slipped out of her seatbelt and carefully stood up. The other children were still in their seats. Mary checked for breath by holding her finger up to their noses. To her relief they were still alive and looked to be sleeping.

“Hey wake up,” Mary urged, shaking them. She didn’t want to go looking for the others on her own. The blonde boy in the skinny jeans stirred and his eyes quickly rested on Mary who smiled at him.

“Wh-what’s going on? What happened?”

“We had a crash,” Mary said slowly. “Do you feel hurt anywhere?”

The boy blinked and sprang to life, checking himself all over frantically. “I-I don’t think so!”

The boy in the green pullup sweater was awake as well but seemed less responsive. Mary checked him for wounds. His wrist was bruised and swollen.

“I think he broke something,” said the blonde boy, staring down at his friend.

“Yeah,” said Mary. “Look we got to go looking for the grown ups. They will know what to do.”

“What do you mean?” said ther blonde boy. Mary let him get a good look at their surroundings. He peeked his head out of the window beside him that was smashed open. “Oh man.”

“They might have gone off looking for help,” said Mary. “No one was in the seats behind me.”

“Or maybe they got thrown out just like the pilot in the crash,” said the blonde boy. “I think they're all dead.”

“Shut up,” said the boy in the green sweater, nursing his wrist and wincing as he did. “It huuurttss.”

A groan from the other girl gave Mary as fright and she quickly diverted her attention to her.

“We were in a crash,” said Mary.

A piercing cry of pain from the girl gave Mary another scare. Her hand shot up to her neck and her face contorted in visible agony.

“My back ah!” she screamed. “My neck. It hurts to move it!”

“Hold still,” the blonde boy urged. “You must have banged it up in the crash. I think the adults are dead.”

“Stop saying that,” said Mary snapped, feeling both annoyed and fearful. “Help your friend and look for the grownups if you can.”

“We should be dead,” Mary heard him mutter and unbuckle. “Stay here John, I’m going to check things out.”

The blonde boy stumbled out of his seat to her horror fell out of the plane with a thud as he tried to wobble away.

“Hey!” Mary called out. “Hey!”

“I’m ok!” he yelled. “The grass is pretty soft. Oh man there’s metal everywhere! Oh man.”

“Please get me a brace,” the other gril pleaded to Mary. Tears welled out. “Please.”

“I-I don’t think we have one of those,” said Mary. “I’ll see if any luggage survived.”

Mary checked the baggage compartment above her. By some miracles two duffel bags remained untouched inside. She tugged them out and tore through the insides, searching for any first aid materials. There were none, not even a scarf. It was all just t-shirts and plants. There was however, a travel pillow, the kind that went around the neck.

“Here try this,” said Mary, gently slipping the pillow around the girl’s neck. “Is that better?”

The girl nodded. “I just need to not move it. I need to keep my head as still as possible.”

“Hey I don’t see any grownups!” the blonde boy called. Mary could see him standing a few yards away from the wreck, glancing this way and that. “Ohhhhh mannnnn.”

“I’m Prinscilla,” said the girl gruffly, though Mary already knew her name. She gingerly adjusted her neck pillow with a finger. “Mary right?”

Mary smiled. “I finally know your name.” She turned back to the boy in the green sweater. “And your friend called you John. Does he have a name?”

“Clarence,” said John, reaching down for one of the t-shirts that Mary had thrown out of a duffel bag. “Can you help me tie this?”

Mary, to the best of her ability, wrapped John's hand in the dark blue t-shirt that he was reaching for. He gave a nod of satisfaction when she was done.

“Look I know both of you are hurt but we need to look for the grown ups,” said Mary. “Clarence and I will take the lead.”

Stolen story; please report.

“Yeah ok,” said John. “We should look for my dad. He’s good with survival stuff. He watches a lot of those survivor shows. I think he was a boy scout too.”

“We are on a remote island genius,” said Priscilla. “Any adult is better than none. You can’t choose who survives or not.”

“You don’t know if my dad is dead ok?” John snapped angerily.

Mary held up her hands to calm him down. “Ok ok we can keep a lookout for him. What does he look like?”

“He’s balding. The kids at school say he looked mean.”

Mary nodded. “I remember him. My mom is missing too. She was the only one standing up when we crashed and my dad was closest to the cockpit.”

“Oh no,” said Priscilla. “B-but your dad is really important. They go looking for important people when they go missing. Just like if he was the president.”

“They won’t notice that he is missing until it’s too late,” said John. “This is a remote island. They won’t even know where to go looking for us. Does Alaska even have a coast guard?”

With great care and caution, Mary helped her two wounded companions off the wreck of the plane and onto the field. She scanned around for Clarence and spotted him jumping up and down, pointing to a large piece of wreckage further away.

“Cockpit!” he yelled. “We can call for help!”

Cockpits have radio, Mary thought. She held out hope that some of the equipment would still be functional.

“I’ll stay here,” said Prscilla. “Walking makes my head move around.”

“Ok,” said Mary. “Don’t move. I’ll go check it out with John.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Mary, standing as stiff as a statue.

Mary ran over to Clarence with John, who was clutching his wrapped wrist as he moved.

“Oh man,” said Clarence, as he approached the cockpit. Its metallic surface was wrinkled and folded. The unmistakable crimson of blood had splattered on the window.

“Don’t look,” said Clarne, holding them back. “Oh man. His face is in the dashboard thing. It’s like buried right in the controls. The co-pilot is gone too.”

“But what about the radio?” said Mary, her voice shaking.

“It’s busted,” said Clarence, squatting down. “Look you can check if you want ok? I’m not feeling so good.”

“Let’s move away,” said John, already backing up. “I’m scared of dead bodies.”

They silently trudged back to Priscilla, who had an anxious look on her face.

“Well?” she demanded.

Mary sighed. “I think we are on our own for now.”

John looked this way and that. “But where did the rest of the plane go? Maybe they’re somewhere else looking for us.”

“The ground behind us is like elevated you know?” said Clarence. “I can check to see if they are over on the other side of the rise.”

“I think we should gather supplies first,” said Mary.

“What supplies?” Priscilla grumbled. “There’s literally like two duffel bags full of nothing but clothes”

“It will help us stay warm at least,” said John. “Man you guys got lucky. My arm is hurting worse now.”

“I saw you reach out before we crashed,” said Clarence. You must have samsehd your arm right in.”

John winced and held his hand close. “Yeah ok don’t remind me. I’m getting the shivers just thinking about it.”

A voice from behind them rang out across the field. An adult's voice. A rush filled Mary and she whipped around in the direction of the elevated ground. Three grown ups were coming over the hill and were waving down at them. One of the adults, a woman, was visibly hurt, supported by one of her two male companions.

“Kiiidssss!” the man at the front shouted and ran down, leaving the other two behind.

“It’s my dad!” Priscilla squealed. She remained still but Mary could tell she was fighting to urge to sprint towards him. Mary recognized Priscilla’s dad as the fat man from earlier.

“Oh my baby!” Pricilla’s dad sobbed, running up to her and checking her neck. She waved him back and signalled toward her injury.

“She says it hurts to move her head,” said Mary. “John here broke his wrist I think.”

“Where’s my dad?” said John. “That guy holding my mom isn’t my dad.”

Mary could see that the man supporting John’s mother was the young man in a blue suit. His khaki pants were torn open in one leg and blowing in the wind.

“Where are the other adults?” Mary asked quietly.

The smile and elation vanished from Priscilla’s father’s face in an instant. He hadn’t even said anything and Mary already felt like crying.

“Mary, I found your father lying out in the field. He didn’t suffer.”

“Oh man,” said Clarence.

Mary shook with the force of her pain. She let the hot tears flow down her cheeks and looked down, braving herself for the rest.

“We haven’t been able to locate your mother.”

It was all too much too fast. Mary couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was only ten, too young to lose her father. What did Pricilla’s father mean by unable to locate? Bitterness over the fact that it was Priscilla’s father, alive and well, standing in front of her and not her own swelled up inside. It didn’t make any sense. How could her father be dead?”

“Mary?” Priscilla’s father asked. “I’m sorry dear. I really am. I-I know there isn’t really anything I can say to help you deal with your loss. But your mom and dad would want you to survive. Don’t you think so?”

“Yeah they're just glad you're ok,” said Priscilla. “Dad Mary helped us out of the plane. She put this pillow around my neck and wrapped John’s wrist. She’s really super. She didn’t cry and scream like I did.”

“That was very brave of you,” said Priscila’s father, putting a hand around Mary’s shoulder. He had large heavy hands. “Our family owns you for helping Priscilla.”

Mary wiped her eyes and noticed the man’s other hand holding a handkerchief out to her which she took and used to cover her eyes. She stood in silence for a while shuddering against the strong but gentle hand of Priscilla’s father as she cried with trembling breaths.

“We need to find shelter,” said Priscilla’s father after Mary removed the handkerchief from her face. “I say we make for the coast and hope a ship passes by.”

“Yeah good idea,” said the young man in the blue suit. “Maybe other planes will fly over the island.”

“Maybe. In any case let’s salvage what we can and get away from this place.”

“Dad, do you know what brought down the plane?” Priscilla asked.

“I think the pilot screamed something before we crashed. What was it again Jake?”

“Bird strike I think,” said the young man in the blue suit. “A big bird is what he said. I didn’t see it though.”

“Yeah alright well we should be careful on this island. We all heard the rumors. There is no telling what we might run into.”

Priscilla’s father looked over all the children. “You kids feeling well enough to move?”

“Yeah I’m good,” said Clarence.

“My wrist hurts but I’m fine too,” said John.

“Priscilla honey?”

“I might be a little slow,” said Priscilla. “My neck really hurts when it moves even a little.”

“Yeah you probably sprained it,” said her father with a sigh. “Ok let’s gather what we can from this section of the aircraft then move out.”

As they walked over to the ruined cabin that Mary and the other children had left behind earlier, she made herself several promises. I am never going to not work hard again, Mary thought. She knew she was lucky to be alive. Most plane crashes didn’t end well for the passengers. She was a survivor and a survivor didn’t waste their saved life.

“I’m going to live,” Mary told herself firmly. “Dad I’m going to live.”

Taking what felt like her first real breath since waking up from the crash, Mary set aside her grief and walked alongside her companions with newfound determination.