With his legs and arms wrapped around the trunk of the tree, Christopher began to slowly slide his way down the tree. In any other situation he might have looked a bit silly, but at the moment he could see no other way out of his current dilemma; it was either slide or jump, and jumping his current height did not look safe at all. “Fucking bullshit,” he muttered as he slid down, “Goddamn shirt ripped, plane crashed, stuck in a goddamn tree--what the?” He stopped as he heard a loud creaking noise, followed by a snap. Petrified, he dared not to look up, fearing that he might see what he had truly been worried about. He tightened his grip on the trunk, trying to desperately to make his body as flat as possible. Something was about to fall down, and he knew he did not want to be in the way of that.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Whatever had made the snapping noise had stopped, and Christopher's arms and legs were beginning to tire from holding his position. So, in order to get things moving again, he loosened his grip on the bark, “Okay, I should be good to go now,” his voice riddled with doubt. He took one last glance upwards, and what he saw gave him very much relief. Up in the tree, perched on a tree branch, was his airplane seat. It was swaying back and forth, back and forth, “Wait, [i]shit[/i]!” Christopher panicked, if the seat was swaying, then it was probably going to fall. By accident he loosened his grip on, and began sliding at an increasingly rapid pace. Any attempt to stop with his hand would cause severe burns, so he dug his shoes into the tree bark to cause friction.

It slowed him down by quite a bit, but the speed was still much faster than he would have like it to be. He could feel his blue jeans beginning to be torn apart by the bark, his hands, likewise, were beginning to get damaged from the intense friction. He could feel the blisters already beginning to swell in his hands. “Motherfucker!” He gritted his teeth through the pain. The slide down felt much longer than it actually lasted, after about six seconds his body slammed into the forest floor, feet first. It felt like a shockwave through his body when he landed, he could only think of a few occasions where he had felt this much pain. “Fuckin-” he tried to speak, but his voice was replaced by painful grunts, as he made his attempt to stand up. Nothing felt broken, however, it could easily be that the pain was masked by his adrenaline.

“I gotta get to the beach. See if anyone needs hel-” The snapping noise interrupted him once more, only this time it did not stop. He looked up and saw what was coming, his seat. “FUCK!” Christopher started running, if you could call it running. Just as he began running, he felt an intense pain in his right leg. It was as if someone had stabbed him with a knife, and twisted it violently. “Shit, fuck, shit!” His hobble-run managed to get him out of the woods, and not smashed by a plane seat, but he was not able to hold up his weight for long. When he finally made it to the beach, he fell face first into the sand. He decided to lay their for a moment and catch his breath. Everyone else could wait.