^^ Sheila ^^

I looked out the windshield of the small Seaplane, a small charter plane piloted by a gruff, yet likable man from Australia.

We'd been in the air for almost 14 hours now, and I was getting sleepy.

He glanced over at me around his shiny aviators. "Sleep. 6 hours to Manilla." He said simply.

I nodded and closed my eyes, still wondering about the giant knife in his Chair. It looked like a pump action Chainsaw, on the back of a wicked sharp, 12 inch Bowie knife.

I decided to ask anyway. "What's the knife for?"

He seemed happy enough to talk about the knife, at least. He pulled it out of its sheath, grinning. "Oh? This beauty? Her names Sheila. She's me favorite Gal, that's true." He nodded.

"So... What's she mostly used for?" I asked.

"Sheila is a Survival Knife. See here, this is an electrical generator tucked into the handle, all it needs is you pump this trigger for a few minutes, and the Chain Sawr on the back comes to life as soon as you let go." He demonstrated, pumping it once.

It whirred for a few seconds, and then drifted to a stop.

I hummed, impressed. "Whoa... Sheila is a badass." I grinned.

"Too roight, mate." He grinned, nodding.

"Can she start a fire?" I asked.

He looked at me like I was an idiot. "Why would you need a knife to start a fire?" He asked.

"It would be cool. Flaming Chainsaw Knife named Sheila? Epic." I shrugged.

He laughed. "True. Maybe I'll have a lighter added next time I get her detailed... I just got it done yesterday, if you can believe it, so she's in Top Shape!" He laughed victoriously.

I nodded. "Awesome. I'm Jason, by the way." I said.

"George." He grinned, and then turned back to the wheel. "Now get some sleep, mate." He nodded.

---

I snapped awake to heavy shuddering in the cabin. "What's happening?" I asked.

"God damned seagulls..." George snarled, flipping one switch repeatedly, and in a pattern.

I recognized morse code, and mentally translated. 'SOS, Mayday, SOS, Coor-'

The left engine began smoking, and I gripped my seatbelt. "Oh god we're going to die, aren't we! No land for miles, no supplies, no surgical gear-"

"I have a First Aid Kit. Law." He grinned, stressed to the point he was making lawyer jokes.

I grabbed the giant white box and clutched it for dear life, muttering prayers to my father's God for help out of this situation.

The pilot chuckled. "God won't help you, mate. He let's things happen how they happen. I'm landing on that Cluster, ya see there?" He pointed at a clustered Archipelago below us, and started dipping the nose of the plane.

I knew why he was diving, because he needed momentum and he had no engines, but it was still nerve wracking, the dipping and jumping of the plane, as we sped towards the Archipelago, aiming for the center.

He miscalculated his approach speed, apparently, because we skidded across the top of the water, and then skewed to the left, kicking up sand as our plane beached itself, and then bounced, flipping upside down.

---

I opened my eyes, and chuckled in shocked relief, even if I was upside down in a wrecked plane on an abandoned island. I was alive.

I grinned and turned to congratulate the pilot, and gulped. His seat was empty, and the side window was smashed open. I unhooked myself and scrambled out of the plane, but found his broken form in front of us, where it had somehow gone through the sputtering nose propeller.

I stumbled away and puked, violently sick at just the thought of his dismembered corpse. I collapsed next to a tree, and groaned in pain. I just realized my chest hurt, from the safety strap. I'd sprained my sternum, but I was fine, otherwise.

"Small prices and big ones..." I sighed. "I'll pay them all..." I grunted.

I shook myself, and went into the plane, retrieving the First Aid Kit, which he did keep extremely well stocked, thank god. I also took Sheila, clipping her sheath to my belt. I searched the plane for anything useful, and realized the plane was actually still structurally sound.

If I could get it onto its belly, into the water, and fix the left engine, I would be fully capable of flying it out of here.

I knew the basics of flying a plane, having watched George do it for 14 hours, so that wouldn't be a problem.

I found some basic camping supplies in the chest at the back of the plane, and grinned. It was a large tent, a folding shovel, an extremely big pot I didn't have a solid explanation for, a electric crank powered cooking top, and a bag of fishing Hooks and Line.

There was also a wooden Broom, which confused me, but I refocused on the good stuff. I laughed giddily, and set up the tent, making sure to cover the khaki canvas with the palm fronds and dirt.

I dug a quick hole in the sand, and pushed George's... Parts, into it, filling it again. The crabs that had been trying to eat him burrowed down, and I hummed.

'Crabs might be a good source of protein. They'll stick around as long as I have... Bait.'

I climbed into the tent, and zipped it up, then curled up in the sleeping bag, falling asleep quickly.

---

I opened my eyes, and blinked in confusion. I saw the pristine khaki tent, and then the events of yesterday hit me.

I sighed and sat up, shaking myself. "Time to fortify my sleeping area..." I said to myself.

I walked outside, zipping my tent closed, and surveyed the wreckage in the fierce sunlight. I nodded. "Alright... I need to flip that over, and I'll be golden... But how to do it... Ah!" I grinned, an idea coming to mind.

---

Two hours later, I was tying ropes made of braided vines to the left wing of the plane, and rocks on the right side acted as counterweights. If I pulled on the left wing enough, it would flip over.

All the weight was centralized, so I only have to move about 400 pounds, in the wings. The leverage would alleviate most of the weight, especially as the plane was at an angle.

I tossed the vine rope over a thick branch, high up in one of the trees, and then caught the end. I turned and placed it on my shoulder, and started hauling, walking away slowly.

The vine creaked, but held, and soon it was shifting on the soft sand. I walked around a thick tree and started walking back towards the plane.

It was almost perfectly sideways now, and it just needed a push. So I laboriously tied off the rope, and then walked over. I placed my hands against the wing, and pushed as hard as I could, my Steel-Toed boots digging into the sand. Soon, it creaked, and fell forward, perfectly.

The rope caught it from falling all the way, and now it was hanging diagonally. I secured the rope, and slowly untied it. The rope slipped out of my hands, and it thunked down the last three feet or so, with no problems. I climbed into the plane, and sat down at the control panel.

I tried to fire up the plane, but the left engine was dead, and the right was now full of sand. But at least it was upright.

I moved my tent into the Cargo Compartment, and then tested the seals on the airlock. They were still airtight, so that was good. I used some spare plastic and sealed up the broken window, and then went outside to check the main propeller.

Other than being extremely gross, it didn't seem to be broken, and spun easily when I turned it. I went to the right engine, and unhooked the Casing, unleashing a downpour of sand. Once that was finished, I reattached the casing firmly, and went to see the left.

I tsk'ed, looking at the damage a single seagull had done to the engine of this plane. I took off the casing, and seawater spilled out, along with something that looked suspiciously like bird bones.

I steeled my stomach and dug out the engine with my hands, making sure it was fully emptied of any compromising components. One or two circuits were fried, but they could be replaced with the stuff I'd had in my bags.

I kept several laptops with me at all times, in a shock-proof briefcase. I reminded myself to get those circuits, and re-cased the engine.

I nodded. "Alright. I'm in relatively good shape... Now, checklist. What do I need? 1: I need to fix the engine. 2: I need food and water. 3: I need shelter, but I've already got that... So I need a reliable source of food, and to get those circuits refitted and test out the engines..."

I sat on the wing, and hummed.

"Alright. Food source. Fish. The entire island is surrounded by hundreds of thousands of fish schools... They're probably eating the crabs's waste, and then the bigger fish are eating the bait fish, and so on... Alright. So I need to be able to fish. A dock. Simple."

I started drawing out a blueprint for a dock. I would place posts in the water, every 2 feet. I'd lace vines thickly around the posts, laying a netted bottom to my dock, for added structural support. Then, I'd lay mats of wooden slats, also roped together, and finally, a third layer of vines, making my dock completely slip-proof.

I started braiding rope as I waited, and mused on the idea of fresh water. There was a stream, about twenty feet away to my left, that led into the ocean, an my bet was that was fresh water. I would boil it anyway, to make sure.

I filled the ridiculously huge pot with water from the stream, and then set about making a fire. The pot had its own stilts, and wide bottomed fixtures to hold it up, so all I needed was a good fire to boil the water.

Or... A cooking top... I grinned, and fetched the crank powered CookTop, which apparently was a matched set with the big pot, because it magnetically connected with the bottom.

I lit a cigarette using my Zippo, and started cranking to power up the cooktop. I placed the cover on the pot, and clamped down the clamps, leaving only the small steam hole open, then covered that with plastic wrap. Air started to expand it, and I grinned.

I traced the plastic piping to the second pot, which fit inside the first pot, (I had discovered it and two others, stacked inside each other like those Russian dolls, when I opened the big pot). The boiled water would evaporate, and then condensate, and then drip down into the second pot, giving me clean water.

Soon I had a good system going, and I stood up, hands in a victory for anyone to see my success... But I was alone, so whatever.

I moved the entire system into the plane, as there was no fire, so it was better to have everything together, and out of sight.

I went back to braiding my ropes, and soon I had several hundred meters of it. I was going to start on the slats, but I noticed the sun going down.

I took all my rope inside, and locked the door, then turned off the cooktop, wanting no surprises. I crawled into my sleeping bag, and started to fall asleep, exhausted from a day of physical, mental, and emotional exertion.

'Day one, I managed to get a working potable water system going, and flip the plane over. Day two, I'll start making my Dock, and get my plane off the sand... Maybe a sling joist? Yeah, that'll work. The cove is naturally protected from storms. I saw almost ten different breakwaters, and the island cove I'm in faces east, so the southern and northern storms won't affect me here... I landed in virtual paradise. Ha. Figures.'

I fell asleep to my cynical thoughts.