Dakota's senses came back slowly, bringing him back to his current predicament. His eyes were still closed, and he kept them that way as he listened to what was going on in his surroundings. People must have started to stir, because he could hear the shuffling of feet as someone climbed out of the wreckage. He thought he heard faint voices coming from quite a distance away. Clearest of all, he heard his own heartbeat. It pounded in his ears, adding to a headache like no other he had experienced before. He forced himself to take a deep breath, filling his lungs as much as he could, despite the searing pain it sent through his ribcage. He didn't think any bones were broken -- besides his left pinky finger, which must have gotten lodged in the cup holder or something -- but everything ached.
 
 Exhaling, his forced his eyes open. The world was blurry for a few seconds, and he blinked several times before it came into focus. His cheek rested on the sand from where he lay. Scraps of metal were spread about around him, charred black in places, and stained red in a few spots as well. After much procrastination, he pushed his hands against the sand and slowly sat up, sitting back on his knees. Each movement made his vision blur from pain, so he took it slow. He assumed he had gotten himself a concussion, though it was hard to tell if the dizziness was caused by a head injury or loss of blood. He raised his left arm slightly to check the gash on his side. It still looked awful, but his little nap must have helped to slow the bleeding. Where his shirt wasn't shredded, the blue fabric was stained a nasty dark purple color. 
 
 Kota carefully pulled his arms out of the sleeves and twisted the shirt around so he was wearing it backwards. As he gently pulled it back on, the fabric brushed against the wound, making him wince. The hole of the shirt was now on his good side, and the wound was covered by the intact part of the shirt. The materiel stuck slightly, and was already adopting a blood stain, but he hoped maybe it would help to keep it clean. It rubbed painfully, but at least it would keep some of the sand out. 
 
 He sat there for another moment, gathering his thoughts. The fact that he was sitting in sand just then registered with his brain. Did they crash on a beach? From where he was, he couldn't see the ocean, but he could hear it's rumble in the distance. It provided a source of white noise, so that it was never completely silent.
 
 With a groan, Dakota forced himself to stand. Again, his world spun, but he managed to stay up right. Just then, he noticed someone else. He stumbled out of the plane, carrying a blonde girl in his arms. The man was bleeding from a large, swollen lump on his head. It was a wonder he was able to carry the girl, who looked to be somewhere around the same age as Dakota.
 
 He knew it was a stupid thing to ask before he even said it, but he couldn't think of anything else. "Are you okay?" He questioned, "Can I help?"