Castaway
Adam made his way out of the wreckage and stepped onto the beach. The sight was so incongruous, he almost couldn't process it. The destruction of the plane, the people who were so injured that some didn't make it at all, and at his back, the vivid blue ocean. The white sand under his feet, and the jungle just beyond him.
Because he was terrified, Adam made himself sparse. He stood back and did simple things when he saw a need for them. He secured the raft. He made a little shelter, way down the beach, and started collecting people to put inside it, to keep them out of the sun and away from the destruction.
He took the kids first. There were a couple who were unhurt, but orphaned. Adam knew, because he had seen their parents, when he was trying to get out of what was left of the plane.
He didn't want this to be his life. Didn't know how in the world it happened. It was only in movies and on TV. This wasn't his life.
"Stay here," he instructed them, and ran across the burning sand, to where someone was drowning in the ocean, unnoticed. Adam wasn't a strong swimmer, but that hardly seemed like a reason not to try and save a life.
As he reached the woman, Adam grabbed her, and started for the shore, just as the beach was lit up with a fiery orange explosion.
He clung to the lady he had come for, and struggled to find the little tarp shelter he had made. He hoped it was far enough away.
Adam paddled and kicked, cursing and making the unconscious woman promise that she wouldn't do anything stupid, like die, while he had a hold of her. Because that would totally ruin his day.
Not like it hadn't already been ruined enough, with his plane crashing in the Pacific.