Mike opened his eyes, blinking against the dim light filtering into the cockpit. His heart pounded as his senses sharpened. He was sitting in his plane, but something felt wrong—terribly wrong. The craft wasn’t in the air; it was grounded. Solid ground. His breath quickened. Where am I? The memories came rushing back like a tidal wave: the storm, the chaos, and… the creature.

He froze as the realization hit him—I was inside that thing’s mouth. How could I possibly be here? His hands trembled as he ran them over the control panel, his thoughts spiraling. Is this real? Am I alive, or is this some hallucination before death?

The unfamiliar surroundings outside the plane didn’t help. Everything looked surreal, like a scene from a dream—or a nightmare. His mind raced with questions: What is this place? Is it safe? Should I leave the plane or stay put? Will rescue come?

His jaw clenched as a wave of determination swept through him. He couldn’t sit there drowning in doubts. He had to know if he was alive, if this was real. I need to get out of the plane and see for myself.

With a deep breath, Mike reached for the cockpit door, ready to confront the unknown.

The air hit Mike’s face like a warm slap as he stepped out of the plane. His boots crunched against the ground, confirming the solid reality of it. He inhaled deeply, the earthy scent of the place filling his lungs. Relief flooded his body—I’m alive. For a moment, he closed his eyes, grateful to have escaped the jaws of death.

Opening them, he scanned his surroundings. The island was stunning, almost paradisiacal. Thick, lush trees towered around him, their leaves dancing In a soft breeze. The air was alive with the calls of birds and the rustle of unseen animals. The sunlight painted everything in golden hues, but something was off.

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He tilted his head upward, narrowing his eyes. The sky. It wasn’t normal. Despite the bright light and heat, there was no sun. Instead, golden rays seemed to pour down in thin, shimmering threads from an unseen source. Stranger still, the sky wasn’t blue but a bluish-green, as if he were beneath the surface of a vast ocean.

A chill ran down his spine. What kind of place is this? He shook his head, refusing to let the unease take over. He was alive, and that was what mattered—for now.

He turned his gaze back to the plane, his curiosity mounting. Something about it seemed… strange.

Mike approached the damaged aircraft, his eyes drawn to an unusual sight. Parts of the plane’s surface shimmered under the strange light, coated in a translucent, solid material. His fingers brushed against it—it was smooth, cold, and unyielding. He frowned, questions flooding his mind. What is this? Where did it come from?

As he scanned the plane, his thoughts wandered back to the storm. Could this have saved me? Protected me from destruction? He didn’t know whether to feel grateful or unsettled.

Shaking off his unease, Mike decided to explore further. He walked cautiously through the dense foliage, his boots crunching against the soft earth. The island, once serene, began revealing its secrets. On the shoreline, his breath caught.

There, scattered along the beach, were massive wrecks—submarines, planes, and ships, their hulking forms coated in the same strange material. The sight was haunting. Among them were enormous sea creatures, their lifeless bodies frozen under the transparent substance.

Mike stood frozen, staring at the surreal scene. His mind spiraled. How did they get here? Why are they all on the shore? What is this material that covers them?

His heart raced as a more pressing question surfaced: Am I really the only one here?

Mike’s thoughts churned as he continued walking along the shore. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his questions pressing down on him. The wreckage, the creatures, the translucent material—it all felt impossibly wrong, as if he were caught in a waking nightmare.

He thought of his wife and son, their faces flashing in his mind. I have to survive. I have to get back to them. That hope, fragile as it was, kept him moving forward.

Then, he saw it. Amidst the chaos of debris and destruction, something stood out—a small structure pieced together from wreckage. His heart skipped a beat. It was a hut, barely standing, but unmistakably man-made.

Adrenaline surged through him. I’m not alone. His hands tightened into fists, equal parts hope and fear flooding his body. Whoever had built that hut was—or had been—on this island.

With cautious steps, Mike approached the hut, his breath catching in his throat. What he would find there could change everything.

End of chapter 2