[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3HMSWb6.png[/img]
[hr]Interacting With: KcKenna Knowles [@A Tattooed Girl]
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	"What the fuck? I'm alive?!" groaned Isaac.

	Isaac quickly checked all over his body for injuries, and seeing that all limbs, fingers, and toes were accounted for, Isaac quickly went to work unstrapping the seat belts and throwing away the oxygen mask that covered his mouth. Though his body hurt like none other, Isaac jumped up from his seat triumphantly and shouted with a loud and thunderous "airborne!" But once the thrill of being alive worn away he was left with a deafening silence that overcame him. Bodies and blood were everywhere. It had not been the first time he had seen bodies, and in fact, a lot of them were in better shape now than bodies in the 'Stan (a 40 mm grenade from an M320 will make short work out of anyone). But it did not lessen the impact of seeing these corpses, corpses of your fellow countrymen, Americans, foreign civilians, and flight personnel strewn about the floor. Then he felt shame. Shame that he, out of all these people, good people, survived unscathed. It certainly looked like some of them suffered greatly before death. Isaac closed his eyes and said a small prayer for their souls.

	After grabbing his own bag and looking through the contents, Isaac began grabbing other bags from the overhead and throwing them to the center of the isle. He would pilfer the insides later depending on how long it would take before rescue arrives. If rescue was even coming, he would leave them alone. No sense in stealing from the dead. But, if worse comes to worse, he would need everything he can get to stay alive wherever the Hell he was.

[center][b]"Anyone there?"[/b][/center]

	So he was not the only survivor.

	"Yo!" he called. "Can you hear me? I'm alive over here. Who else is still breathing?"