“He’s my brother,” mentioned David as Li-An walked away.
She had earlier braved the desert sun to pick up debris scattered from the crash. What she found was a man sitting on his baggage, staring blankly at the horizon, with both hands clasped onto a frame.
Li-An felt an understanding of his grievance and offered consolation. She referred to him as revealed by the tag he wore – David – and asked who it was on the picture. When David wouldn’t respond, Li-An bid to tell her own plight – of how only fourteen of the twenty souls left on the plane had already woken, of how they had been figuring out a way to survive in case help doesn’t arrive, and of how she volunteered to find what else was there to save out the wilderness in search of her mother.
“We are not so different, David. Maybe we should keep each other company,” Li-An commented.
David turned and smiled warmly at Li-An’s remark but was quick to note that it’d already been the third day since the crash happened.
Oh Li-An would’ve been surprised to learn than David had seen how her mother was swept when the plane tore but they’re conversation was halted by a loud, agonizing shriek from beyond.