Black. Pure, and utter black. Garret's world swayed, band and forth, back and forth, back and forth, over and over again. And then there was light. Blinding light, filling his eyes with its cruel, merciless brightness. And yet, he didn't squint, or even blink. What had happened? Why could he not feel his body? Why were his breaths so weak? If for only an instant, he regained a bit of consciousness, and his eyes began to focus. There was grass poking through the wind shield? No, the wind shield was gone. But how did the grass get to the roof? Garret was then able to put two and two together, despite the fact that fog clouded his mind, and realize that he was upside down. He swung his head lazily to the left, eyeing the seatbelt hooked on his shoulder, keeping him off the ground. The airbag at the front was a sloppy mess, but it had deployed. So, why did he feel so weak? So, so weak. It felt like his legs were gone, and that his arms were heavier than lead. 

Garret gritted his teeth, swinging his arms up to detach the seatbelt. By pure luck his palm struck the release, and he fell to the floor, landing on his backpack. He looked back down at his arm, seeing only red. So much red covered his arm. Then the dizziness hit him like a shock wave, reminding him that he was still very much alive. But not for long if he didn't act quickly. He threw off his backpack and pulled himself up off of the ground. He could hear mumbles in the back, but his mind was too weak to process anything. How much time had passed? How much blood had he lost? He opened a side compartment on his bag with lazy fingers, barely grasping onto the zipper with his ring finger and thumb, and there within lied his last hope. He pulled the plastic bag open, and seeing only crushed remains of the pill that lay within, he tilted his head back, and let the contents fall into his mouth. He then grabbed the nozzle on his water backpack and began to drink, seemingly pulling more life back into himself with each gulp. 

He was alive and absolutely covered in red. He had cuts on his legs, cuts on his arms, and a deep gash where the seatbelt had stopped him from flying through the windshield. How much time had gone by? How long had he bled out? It may not matter anymore, but he knew he'd be more of a hindrance to these people than a help. Then he heard groans outside, and noticed that the three in the back were all awake. All except for Roland, who had apparently dispatched the sniper during the time at the school yard. He was unable to make out sounds, but noticed that one of them was offering water in the back. Garret grabbed his water backpack and threw it over to them with a weak toss.

"Hey... if you need water... drink this... hold onto what little you have"