John was awoken by the salty taste of the calm ocean that lapped at his face. He crawled out of the reach of the oncoming waves and then opened his eyes to observe his surroundings. He was on an island. That much was for sure. He was surrounded by driftwood and other debris from the ship. That's right! He had been on a ship! The last thing he remembered was being knocked unconscious which seemed correct because his head felt as if someone had slammed it into a steel door. He realized that he should start looking for survivors of the treacherous shipwreck that may have also been washed ashore on the island. "Hello?!" he shouted. He could have sworn he heard a shout. Was it left? Or maybe right? He decided to go with his gut and stood up, ignoring the pain in his arms and legs and every other part of his body, and turned to the right. After a half hour of walking he stumbled upon some footprints. "YES!" he shouted. He was elated to discover that he was not the only person on the island, and started following the footprints.