A series of jarring shakes, each more violent than the one before, ripped Glenn unceremoniously from his nap. His eyes snapped open. The cabin was hazy, the air thick with smoke. Fumbling to his feet, the raccoon felt his way blindly down the aisle, coughing and hacking on the smoke. Several panic-filled moments later, Glenn found the door, stumbling out into the fresh air of the outside.
Scrambling down the stairs, Glenn collapsed on the sandy ground. He was sitting on the sloping beach of what appeared to be a small island. Well, perhaps calling it an 'island' would be a little bit too kind. 'Mound of sand in the middle of the goddamn ocean' was probably a better title. About the only things the place had in the way of vegetation were a few sad-looking palm trees that appeared to have been there purely by accident. The sun beat down mercilessly on the whole scene.
Ethan stood a few dozen feet away, pacing back and forth periodically, his hand resting on his muzzle. Behind Glenn was the smoking wreck of the plane. An entire wing of the craft had been torn off and the tail section had taken some heavy damage.
"What in the hell happened here?" Glenn gasped, scrambling to his feet and walking towards Ethan. "How... how is that even possible?"
"I don't know," the stallion replied numbly, his eyes wide. "We'd been up for a few hours and the captain said to prepare for some turbulence. Well, it hit, but then... things got a hell of a lot worse,"
"Is the captain alright?" Glenn asked nervously.
Ethan shook his head slowly. "I tried to pull him out of the cockpit, but there was so much fire,"
"Damn," Glenn said, at a loss for words for once in his life. A frown furrowed his brow. "Wait. You didn't think to try and pull me out? Wow, bro. Not cool,"
"Hey, I was in a panic!" Ethan retorted, throwing his hands into the air. "You're fine. Don't freak out,"
"I can't think of anything to do but freak out," the raccoon said.
"We should stay calm. It won't help anything if we freak out," Ethan said.
"How are we going to get out of here? They're going to start looking for us when we don't show at the airport, right?"
"The authorities think we're going somewhere totally different, remember? That decoy flight plan you gave won't lead them anywhere near here,"
"Where is 'here', anyway?" Glenn asked.
Ethan shrugged. "Haven't the foggiest," he replied. "Maybe the GPS on the plane is still okay. That ought to give us a clue. But we need to think of a plan of action to get the hell of this damn island,"
Glenn frowned in concentration, stroking his chin. "Well, far as I see it...
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