When the Sun Blinked Book 1: Search for the Truth

By Dave Harvey

All it took was 5 seconds for the world to change forever.

For 28 passengers, the end of the world arrived on the morning of October 08, 2015.
That morning, the unthinkable happened when several aircraft vanished from visual sight and radar in the vicinity of Cape Town International Airport, South Africa.
Alpha Intercontinental Flight AHA 113 was one of these. Despite extensive efforts, no wreckage or debris was ever found. It was as if Flight AHA 113 had simply never existed.
But ... Flight AHA 113 had existed. It crashed into the sea and 28 survivors eventually made it to safety.
This is their story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dave Harvey
• Release date: Mar 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370500888

Dave Harvey

I was born in Johannesburg, South Africa in 1951.I spent my early years in Linbro Park, a suburb of Johannesburg, on a small holding of peach trees, asparagus and rhubarb, exploring the long disused next-door cemetery, avoiding snakes and grandpa’s beady eyes. (And they were eyes that missed nothing).From there the family relocated to a farm in Chingola, Northern Rhodesia (later Zambia).Given the farm was carved out of virgin forest, it was back to avoiding snakes and other denizens of the thick bush – but all good learning curves.From Zambia the family relocated to Rhodesia (later Zimbabwe) and from there I attended university in South Africa.Somehow it seemed that all of my school years were spent at isolated boarding schools, buried deep in the bush in both Northern Rhodesia and Rhodesia, which may account for a lot of my quirks.After the bush war, when Rhodesia became Zimbabwe, I emigrated back to South Africa where I now live in Cape Town.

Book preview

Chapter 1

"There is no such thing as accident; it is fate misnamed"

Napoleon Bonaparte

The first thing Andy became aware of was being shaken by a heavy hand and what sounded like a woman’s voice telling him to wake up. Actually, more an insistent drone in his head competing against an incredible cacophony of other noises. The second thing he became aware of was the pain; it seemed to pretty much wrack his entire body. The third thing he noticed was that he was wet and seemed to be lying partially immersed in water which drained away, came back, drained away in some repetitive cycle.

This was not how he’d envisaged landing in Cape Town.

He assumed that he’d fallen asleep as they were coming into land, as that was sitting vaguely in the background of his thought processes and the stewardess needed him to sit up and put his seat into the upright position. But that didn’t account for the noise or the pain; followed closely by the distant sounds that seemed to comprise a combination of moans, cries, shouts and go figure, the continuous sound of surf breaking on rocks and sand.

The real cherry on top was the shrieks and cries of what sounded like hundreds of seagulls or other seabirds with some donkeys thrown in for good measure.

A take your pick audio buffet.

Trying to make some sense of it all, he attempted to sit up and seemed to smack his head straight into what felt like a piece of concrete rebar, causing shooting stars of agony to whirl around inside his head.

‘Slowly, slowly ... take it easy.’ The words drifted around his ears. ‘You’re not in great shape, so rather relax and stay down ... but I need you to open your eyes.’ Which he could manage, pretty much. Obviously, the way to go was not being repeatedly smacked by a concrete bar. There was already enough pain shooting through his head anyway. Rather, following what seemed like sound advice seemed more logical, and going back to sleep even better. Although the bit about him ‘not being in great shape’ needed some rework and delivered with a bit more finesse, he felt.

‘Don’t go to sleep,’ said the voice. ‘Stay with me … I need you awake so I can see if you’re alright before I try and get you up and walking.’

And what about what I need, thought Andy ... I was on a plane so how come all the noise and oh wow! ... what a shitter of a headache ... and how come I don’t hear the plane and Jesus, if I have had a stroke I will be seriously pissed off. God … if you’re listening to me and I know I only talk to you when I am in the crap, but just this once … well okay for the millionth or so time, I am so sorry for everything but don’t let me have had a stroke.

He tried to open his eyes again but glaring sunlight and further pain greeted that effort as well. ‘Oops,’ he whispered, ‘what am I missing?’

He was rapidly giving up the thought of immediate sight, rather focusing on some sort of answer.

‘Well, I’d say we’re missing an aeroplane and we’re now somewhere on a beach. You were trying your best to drown yourself … don’t know if you remember that? Also, do you remember anything about the crash?’

‘What crash?’

‘Um … that would be the one that put us where we are now.’

He was silent for a few seconds as the pieces of the jigsaw attempted to find their way back to the puzzle.

‘Jesus.’

He blinked a few times, tried to open his eyes. The face leaning over him was blurry and he couldn’t initially make out what it was saying; only it seemed to be urgent and over the noises in the background, sounded female. The pain in his head and body made it difficult to focus and every time he was shaken some more it simply added to an increasingly unpleasant feeling.

Eventually, he managed to stop the hand and open his eyes, but now the glare added to the grief, so he closed them again. But this too invoked another round of shaking and the voice now more insistent.

Opening his eyes fully this time, he blinked away some sand and gunge and looked. The face leaning over him looked both concerned and irritated at the same time, as though he’d fainted on the aisle of the aeroplane and was lying in her way.

It was an interesting face, sort of stunning but stern, no messing with her. She had her hair tied back, away from her face which appeared besmirched with traces of sand and blood. Her eyes appeared to just flash irritation. He could see her mouth moving, showing white even teeth, but could not make out the words. Just a sense that he was holding her up from something much more important.

‘Do you remember anything? I need you to talk and make some sense, but without moving and right now you keep moving but making no sense? I’m worried you might have a severe concussion or worse.’

‘Well, I think I can remember something that included a lot of screaming and shouting but not much more.’ He tried to sit up again and open his eyes properly despite whatever ministering was happening to his head, and promptly smacked straight back into the same piece of cement that had brained him earlier – ‘Holy shit that’s sore.’

‘Well your head took a good smack when a chunk of the plane’s ceiling and storage locker fell on you, so I’m not surprised it’s sore. Just try and remember what you can but stay still while I try and clean you up. Then we’ll see if you managed to keep any brains with you.’

‘Did anyone ever tell you that you have a great bedside manner,’ he whispered as his brain tried to figure out what the signals it was receiving were all about.

‘When you make it to your feet, if you can, then you’ll understand why I’m a bit stressed. So, excuse me for a lousy bedside manner but suck it up.’

‘Then at least tell me what happened … we were on a plane and suddenly now we’re not?’

‘Stop … you have a lot of gashes on your head and some scrapes and bruises, but I think those are not too serious in themselves; it’s the fact that you could have a bad concussion from the blow, or no brains or both. Right now, I can’t tell if there’s a difference between the two. But every time you try and sit up you’re moving your head which was the only thing that kept you afloat before I dragged you out of the water, so shut up and stay down, so I can finish.’

As Andy lay back down (gingerly) a few senses came to the foreground and again assailed him with the noises he thought had gone away – or perhaps the aches in his body had diverted the sound.

‘What is going on?’ he whispered. ‘And what the hell just happened?’

‘Our plane crashed ... sort of ... seems it just fell out the sky and into the sea.’

He let that sink in and then as though anticipating his next move a hand pushed down on the frontal lobe of his aching cranium as he processed what she’d just said before he blurted out; ‘Our plane crashed? ... what do you mean our plane crashed? ... where are we and what happened to ‘we’ll shortly be starting our descent into Cape Town?’

‘Is that the last thing you remember?’

‘Well yes … pretty much.’

‘Okay, we never actually reached Cape Town, and now I need you to try and get up … but slowly. I need you to get up if you can move by yourself and I really need you to help me. Can you open your eyes now and move your legs?’

All these questions.

Andy could, although, that came along with another reality pain check but at least the eyes opened. Despite the alternating bouts of sunshine and what seemed like fog causing as much pain to his eyes as slowly moving his limbs caused to the rest of his body, he could sort of move; about as effectively as an upside-down turtle.

‘Okay, I’m okay I think.’ He started to get up gingerly looking for the piece of rebar that had apparently, already tried to brain him twice.

‘Attaboy,’ said the voice, ‘there is nothing in front of you. If you can move, let’s get you up and helping. Other than the holes in your head, you have a lot of scrapes and shallow gashes which probably came when you were washed across some rocks; You also have a lot of bruising over your one eye and a long gash there, but it seems to be shallow. If we can stop it bleeding, you’ll be fine. I don’t think anything is too serious unless of course, you have a concussion. Do you remember your name at least?’

The voice sounded pleasant but sheesh ... left the nice behind this morning for sure.

‘It’s Andy,’ he groaned, forcing himself to roll over onto his stomach. Lying that way, he could get his hands either side of his chest, pushing himself up onto his knees and hands, at least getting some daylight between his upper torso and the sand. He looked like a boxer who had taken what should’ve been a knockout punch but was determined to beat the count.

Looking down at the sand, he could see blood dripping steadily from his head and presumably from somewhere around his face. He wasn’t sure, but it all hurt the same. He looked up in front of him, seeing sand and what looked like a beach, and then whispered to the voice. ‘Help me up,’ as he tried to stand. The person behind the voice grabbed one arm, trying to pull him to his feet, but the problem was that he was so damn big that it was like trying to lift a large tree.

‘We can work on this if I can lean on you.’

She took his one arm and put it over her shoulder. Using her body as well as his legs for support, they started getting him to his feet, so he could stand; the wobbly boxer still trying to beat the ten count. Up, dazed, but clearly not functioning.

‘Wow!’ he gasped. ‘That was fun.’

Turning slightly, he moved gingerly away from the water’s edge, then leaned over, put his hands on his knees and started retching, gasping as salty water and whatever was left in his stomach poured out onto the sand.

‘Jesus wept,’ he gasped, ‘that hurts.’

‘What hurts?’ For the first time, the voice now sounded concerned.

‘My throat burns like … burns like hell. Is there any water to drink?’

‘Nothing that I’ve seen yet,’ came the answer, ‘but I have only been moving around in this immediate area where we are, and a little way up the beach where some seriously injured people are. Nowhere else, so maybe something is around, I don’t know. But now that you’re up, I want to take you back down to the water, so you can rinse the blood and vomit off yourself. I need to clean you up and look at the gashes and scrapes again around your face and head. Besides, the shirt I’ve been using needs to be rinsed.’

‘Where did the shirt come from?’

‘You probably don’t want to know.’

A good sensible answer, he thought.

‘And, by the way, I’m Megan.’

‘Okay Megan, you obviously know where you’re going, so lead the way.’

As she helped him shuffle slowly back down to the sea, his senses overwhelmed by what seemed like the sheer unreality of the situation; the mix of sand and sea, the maelstrom of noise, glaring sunshine alternating with what seemed like fog, left him with the somewhat detached feeling that he was in some type of film set.

One of those where machines blew manufactured fog or smoke, together with sounds of birds and other marine life played at high volume, as though to ambush the viewers into not seeing the terrible storyline.

In fact, judging by the way he’d stumbled and shuffled to the water’s edge, a low budget zombie type movie would probably fit the bill perfectly.

Stumbling into knee-high surf, he sank to his knees, just letting the moving water rinse his wounds and thoughts in the gentle rhythm of the ocean swell.

‘Just don’t go any deeper,’ called Megan. ‘I would hate you to faint and get washed away.’

‘It’s actually maybe a little too cool to put me to sleep and I’m too sore to pass out. I just kind of need to sit here and let the water slowly clean me.’

‘No. Wash, yes, but do not, whatever you do, do not stay in the water or go any deeper. Tell me your name again.’

‘Same as last time when I told you; it’s still Andy.’

‘Sorry … I’m concerned about a concussion. Here’s the thing; kneel and rinse your head and face. It’ll hurt trust me, please just do it, get all the gunk off you, then come here and let me look at your head. Please.’

It was the please that did it. Suddenly the voice sounded a whole lot less like the army and more like a person. Lowering himself to his knees, he bent down, rinsed, and nearly died as the saltwater on his gashes and scrapes threatened cardiac arrest.

Looking up into the sky he muttered a muffled ‘fuck,’ then quickly, before his courage deserted him, lay down in the water and just let the swell roll him around gently, both cleaning and soothing – almost a blissful release from where his head had been several seconds previously.

That is until he heard the voice screaming at him to get out.

Getting to his feet, he heard her scream at him again as he stood there now nearly waist deep, staring at her, but already several yards further away than when he’d started and wondering what he’d done wrong now.

‘Please,’ she screamed above all the other noises, ‘get out now. Get out.’

Andy stumbled forward, but then looking at her and seeing the anguish that she obviously felt, quickly waded the rest of the way out the water until he reached where she was standing, feet buried deep in the sand.

‘What?’ he said, as she grabbed him and pulled him towards her.

‘Could you not listen to me?’ she snapped, which was somewhat incongruous, coming as it was, from a person who was covered in sand, blood-streaked damp t-shirt and shorts – with the damp in some great places – and quivering with barely suppressed anger. The problem for Andy though was the damp t-shirt that highlighted erect nipples on breasts that strained the cloth, unrestrained by any bra. Which made it hard to focus on what she was actually saying.

But there was absolutely no doubt that she was pissed. Seriously pissed.

And I’m the one bleeding, he thought.

‘Please Andy,’ she said, ‘bring your head here and then I want to show you something.’

As he leaned in close, she grabbed his head (somewhat roughly) he thought, pulled it down towards her chest, seemingly oblivious to what he had to live with as she dabbed at the wounds on his head. Ignoring the pain, he became more concerned with the fact that as she did that, so his right eye was almost forced into contact with her left nipple which kept on moving slightly as she worked on his head.

Despite the pain, he almost – almost started laughing, as he thought, given how pissed she was, she would be volcanic if she could see what his right eye was staring at. Pausing briefly, she bent down, rinsed the cloth in the water, squeezed it out and continued. Andy could’ve pretty much stayed like that for a while.

Until she suddenly stopped, cursed under her breath, grabbed him by the chin and whipped his head upright, following his eyes as she lifted his face, a slight blush starting to cover her neck, which could he thought, also have been a trick of the sun.

Andy, though, maintained a deadpan look, the sort of thousand-yard stare that many soldiers seemed to arrive back home from Iraq or Afghanistan with. As he looked over her head, he was now facing what looked like a two or three-hundred-foot stretch of sandy beach creeping up towards a thickly shrubbed and forested mountain, she grabbed his arm and turned him towards the sea.

‘Look in front of you,’ she snarled; ‘look about twenty meters out and tell me just one small tiny thing, which is, what do you see?’

Andy looked then recoiled in shock, as the fins of what looked like two massive sharks knifed through the water parallel to the beach. They were going up the water a little way to his left, then turning swiftly and coming back, repeating the action about fifty yards down. A constant momentum.

Further up, about a hundred yards away, more fins were slicing through the water. Seemingly agitated, they thrashed through the surface now and then, obviously feeding or trying to feed on something.

‘These two came down when you thought you’d be Mr. Clever and not listen to me. They were obviously close enough to smell the blood all over you.’

‘Well … they’re definitely not small and tiny, but I do get your point,’ he said, desperately trying to think of something to calm her down. Nothing clever popped to mind though except a lame ‘Sorry.’

Chapter 2

As he looked around in absolute bewilderment his eyes were drawn away from the patrolling sharks to further out, where the wreckage of a giant airliner was crunched up against a massive rock. It didn’t appear to have any wings or engines and what was left seemed canted over at a slight angle. From where he was standing and even through the wisps of fog that also swirled around, he could see dozens of fins as sharks thrashed through the water between the rocks that held the plane in some bizarre embrace.

Whatever happened had left behind a monster-sized chunk of something that looked like the aftermath of a stunt gone horribly wrong. It was as though the plane had been flown between two close pillars, losing most of both wings and then the pilots had used the rock to stop all forward momentum–about three or four hundred or so yards offshore more precisely. It was, simply speaking, a mess.

But now, hearing screams and moans mixed with repeated calls for help, pulled his eyes back further up the beach from where he and Megan were standing. What appeared to be other passengers were stumbling around, seemingly aimlessly, or lying on the beach in various stages of obvious distress – if the moaning was anything to go by. One or two seemed to be just sitting there, knees drawn up, heads in their hands and apparently staring at the same mangled aircraft Andy had just noticed.

‘What the hell happened? And, where are we?’

‘We crashed is what happened. As to where?... I can only assume near Cape Town obviously. Other than that, I don’t know what happened, but I do know I need you to try and help me with those people you can see there.’

‘Sure … but how come they’re up there and I was down here?’

‘Because I was the one that pulled you out. You know you weigh a bloody ton, but I had to leave you half in the water and half out because I just could not pull you out any further. I couldn’t leave you too long, in case you were sucked back in again. That’s why I needed to get you up and moving.’

‘And here I thought I’d just peed my pants.’

‘I pulled you as far out as I could and tried to get you up but it wasn’t working, so I went up there,’ she indicated to her left, ‘tried to help some of them, but it was just too much for me to handle on my own. Then I came back to see if you’d recovered a bit and well, here we are.’

‘How did you get us past the sharks?’

‘They hadn’t arrived at that stage. They started at the plane while I was swimming to the beach with you. I’m guessing we’ve been on this beach maybe two hours or so. I only noticed these ones when you thought you’d be Mr. Clever. I guess they started following the injured people who got out the plane but never made it to the beach in time. You’ll see for yourself. When I tell you it’s a mess, it is a mess. It will be like nothing you’ve ever seen before in your life. So … are you up to helping me?’ she asked, looking up at him.

’I’m okay I think, so long as I hold onto you for a bit.’

‘A bit and then you need to help me … I must get back there. While we walk can you press this against where it’s still bleeding?’ She held out the shirt.

‘Sure, but how come you pulled me to shore?’

‘I was in the row opposite, just one seat behind you. When everything went to hell, I saw you get out of your seat and then grab hold of the lady by the window seat next you. I think she had been hurt. But when you lifted her out the seat and into the aisle, everyone was screaming and panicking trying to get out. The next thing I saw was a whole part of the roof panel fall on you. But everyone was shoving and pushing, and they pushed you out the way and you fell into the water. By the time I managed to get out, you were floating out towards deeper water, your head was covered in blood and you seemed to be drowning.’

‘And then?’

‘Well, I jumped into the water, swam out, managed to grab you and swim with you to shore. You got lucky; if I hadn’t seen you get hit by the piece of storage locker and ceiling panel before you were pushed out the plane you’d probably have drowned or been eaten. Don’t you remember anything?’

‘Nothing that makes sense. I get flashes of things, but not what you’re telling me. What happened to all the other people?’

‘I don’t know how many made it … as you can see there are some people here on the beach, but after the crash, passengers were trying to get out wherever they could. Whether they made it or not, I’m not entirely sure. It was a pretty big mess out there and the sharks got there very quickly, and so …’ her voice trailed off.

‘And what?’

‘And so now we really have to help the others as well.’

‘But you saved me?’

‘I did ... but don’t make me regret it.’

‘I’m here. I’m here, even though right now I feel pretty much like shit. For a little while, I may just be with you more in spirit than body.’

‘We need to move.’

She left Andy and started walking towards the nearest people that could be seen between the bouts of sunlight and mist.

‘Are you coming?’ she turned and glared at him.

Dear God, it’s like being back in the army, he thought. But I can do this. I can and I know I can ... especially if what she says is true and she saved my ass ... I can do this. I had better do this now as I’m guessing if I piss her off enough she’ll chuck me back into the water and that would be a very bad place to be.

What emerged though, was a strangled … ‘I’m there.’

Andy stumbled forward – even that seemed a bit of an exaggeration, hauling himself through a world of hurt. Grow up, came unbidden into his head as he fought away another bout of nausea and got his legs to start the old one in front of the other trick ... see, I can do this. His brain did a wobbly dance of joy which his body certainly was not going to do, but at least he kept moving towards the voice.

Stumbling behind her, his feet felt disassociated from his legs, causing him to fall to his knees but she ignored him and continued walking towards the screaming and cries for help somewhere in front of them. As he attempted to get up again he could sense her returning, now even more irritable than before.

‘How’s your head?’ came the voice.

‘Um ... other than the big pain you mean?’

‘Yes ... can you see in front of you … can you move your head, and can you think?’

‘I’m glad you asked … I can do all of those but am not so sure my body wants to.’

‘Well … it’s a must happen, so please let’s go. Maybe just take off your shoes and socks, which might help you?’

‘Um, I think if I stop to do that right now I might just stay on the ground, so maybe later? But Megan,’ called Andy as he lurched after her, ‘what about ambulances, medics, the normal whole nine yards? You know, the stuff that usually arrives when something like this happens and a plane full of people crashes on the beach ... well almost on the beach but you know what I mean?’

‘Good question. Like I said, we’ve been here about two hours now I think, and I have yet to hear one sound other than what you can hear around you, so maybe stop complaining and just help me?’

Just marvelous, he thought. Everyone else can perform and be in pain but because I’m the one she drags out the water dripping blood … I’m just moaning?

‘Not good,’ was his reply. ‘Do we have any idea where we are?’

‘Look around you … if you can make sense of any of this, I am sure we’re going to all welcome it?’

Andy looked around still stumbling like he had woken up with three feet and not two.

The entire scene looked like the set for some disaster movie ... it was to all intents and purposes, an utterly deserted beach (or so it seemed) alongside a picturesque rocky bay. Spoiling the picture was the plane crunched up against the massive rock, the unfolding mess in the water and the streams of luggage and debris slowly being pushed to shore.

The bay stretched out about three hundred yards into the sea, with numerous rocky outcrops visible through the water. Beyond them, the sea would presumably have been essentially calm and idyllic except for the broken plane and the sharks chopping through the water.

Stunts aside, he presumed the pilots had attempted to land in the water and try to get the plane as close to the beach as possible, but somehow had managed to skid directly into the rock instead.

In place of the cockpit was a mangled crumpled mess where the plane had hit side-on, then probably sheared upwards and fallen slightly skew before coming to rest. Around the plane, Andy could see a mix of what looked like smaller rocks, baggage, seats, containers, and bodies.

The water appeared to be somewhat shallow, but as Andy looked he could see that around the fuselage it seemed to be stained red and in turmoil from the frenzied activity of the sharks.

It was difficult to see properly with the swirling mist and bright sun creating a blinding glare, especially given how he was feeling. But he could have sworn he caught glimpses of people leaping from the wreckage into the water, followed by faint screaming and shouting. But the mist played with his malfunctioning senses and he could’ve been imagining it.

Feeling sick to his stomach Andy turned away from the ghastly sight and looked behind him. To his left, about two hundred yards of smooth soft beach interspersed with sparse vegetation and patchy grass reached up to the thick shrubby dense undergrowth. This ran at a slight rise for another two or three hundred yards or so, seeming to extend partway up a high mountain range. It almost looked as though the mountains were growing out of the shrubby forest and mist.

In fact, he thought, apart from the disaster in the water and on the beach, it could have been straight from some travel magazine. It seemed to be a beach that just called out to holidaymakers though it resembled no beach he could ever recall going to in Cape Town and was made somewhat surreal by the constant shrieking of birds and the periodic bray of unseen donkeys.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d somehow been kidnapped, beaten around a bit, waterboarded a few times to ensure he felt as though he’d nearly drowned, then drugged and finally dumped in the middle of a movie set. Only Megan appeared to have seen the script.

Just then the voice intruded ... again. ‘Andy ... hello, Andy ... are you sure you’re okay?’

‘I am ... I was just trying to get my bearings, but I’m good to go.’

They’d gotten to where the real problems now were. It was less as Megan had indicated like nothing he’d ever seen. Rather, it was more like nothing he’d ever expected.

‘Okay, help me now and I think it’s best if I tell you what to do and you do it … unless by some strange reason you’re a Doctor?’

Great, thought Andy ... maybe I should have fought her off in the water and made my own way to shore. All I need for the next couple of hours is the voice ... do this, do that, do some more … another drill sergeant from a lifetime ago.

‘No such luck so just tell me what to do.’

Chapter 3

The next few hours seemed interminable. Megan was extraordinary – she helped everyone she could and what Andy saw made him stop feeling sorry for himself damn quickly. But she could only do patchwork at best, helped by Andy who had done reasonably extensive first aid training whilst in the Marines.

The reality, for most of the injured, was that they needed a whole lot more than what was on offer. There was no immediate medical pack or bandages and other than breaking sticks to act as splints and tearing up clothing to make bandages, there was not much else they could do. He now understood where Megan had gotten the shirt she had used on him from.

Most of the passengers had been injured by either the crash itself or the sharks. There were mangled pieces and bodies with massive lacerations, a grim testimony of their race to the beach. Somewhere along the line, he’d dumped his shoes and socks finding it easier going in the sand with bare feet.

A few more people came forward to help as the day moved on. Three of them stood out. A couple who briefly introduced themselves as Cheryl and Tom and a slightly older somewhat banged up individual by the name of Jeffrey.

Whilst everyone looked as though they were in various stages of catatonia, these three were at least functioning okay under the circumstances. Of the three, Jeffrey appeared to have had first aid training at some point. Even so, there was not much they could do except wait for help to arrive while doing their best to make people comfortable.

The biggest problem was that many of the people still alive on the beach were seriously hurt. Andy had seen people with bodies torn apart; how the hell they had gotten to the beach was a mystery for another time, but he helped bandage what they could, wash where they could, using saltwater (which probably didn’t help) and make comfortable as best they could.

Most of the time the best that anyone would get was ‘it’s going to be okay – proper help will get here shortly.’ It was pretty much all they had to offer, which eventually just started to sound lame. As the day wore on it became apparent that what they needed to do was to separate everyone into three groups – a classic medical triage and work accordingly.

Group one was the dead, as unfortunate as it was. Some were washed up bodies, some were just too badly mangled and had died whilst they were on the sand. Some, who appeared to have been shredded and partially consumed by sharks, had washed ashore and now rolled and shifted constantly in the tidal wash. There seemed to be an unknown number in that group; it was difficult to be more accurate than somewhere way beyond the forty torsos they could count.

Group two was those who were alive but of dubious survivability and there was very little they could do to help, except to make them less uncomfortable. This accounted for another fourteen. The harsh fact was most of these looked bad enough that they could die shortly and unless help came soon, they probably would.

Group three appeared to be the okay group which (excluding himself, Megan, Tom, Cheryl, and Jeffrey) numbered around thirteen or fourteen, as best that Andy could work out. They were those who, judging by the fact that they were starting to move around and, in several instances starting to help, would survive – so long as they got some food, water, a bit of shelter and maybe some ongoing attention.

Some were suffering from shock and barely functioning but in one piece. One or two were starting to get their bearings and in the case of two women, Michaela and Tammy, fine, except severe bruising on their legs hampered their movements; this was the go-to group because the other two were just a little bit too depressing.

And then all on their own, there were the mangled body parts and bits that just kept on washing ashore. Whether the tide was coming in or going out seemed to make no difference. Occasionally they could hear screaming from the water as someone still clinging to life was unable to make it through the gauntlet. Each one of those made Andy realize that he owed his life to Megan – twice over.

By the time this was organized, the mist had disappeared, and the sun was starting to slide past the vertical and towards the mountains directly behind the beach. The warm light reflecting off the mountains, if anything, seemed to darken the mood that was setting in – a mix of serious shock, traumatic stress, and an urgent need to eat or drink something. But as far as they could see, there was no water or anything in their immediate vicinity, which added to the building resentment at the lack of any sign of rescue.

Andy went across to where Megan was sitting hunched on the beach with tears streaming down her face and sat down next to her.

‘Hey… you did everything you could ... now we just have to wait for help or go and find it. I mean someone saw us go down or heard us, although not that we’d notice. We don’t really know what happened ourselves, but someone does.’

‘It’s not that Andy ... it’s just that I’m sure there are or were still people on the plane and we haven’t even tried to help them yet.’

‘What do you mean still on the plane … how did all these people on the beach get here?’

‘I don’t know ... I was initially trying to help some other people off the plane, but when I saw you get hit by that piece of the ceiling or luggage bin and then pushed out with the person you were carrying, I left what I was doing and went to try and help the two of you. But I think that the current probably swept them in or the swells rolled them in or … I don’t know. I ... I was looking after you and spent all my time trying to stop you from drowning.’

‘And the lady I was carrying?’

‘I’m sorry Andy, by the time I could get to you, there was no sign of her. Between the panic, the screaming and splashing and everything, I honestly don’t know what happened. But when I got to shore and pulled you out and then turned to go back and help the others still on the plane, well that’s when I saw the sharks and I wasn’t going back in again. So, as I said, I tried to get you going and well, you already know the rest. But you took a while to come around and then when you did and we started to help the others I forgot, I guess, given what we were trying to do.’

‘Has anyone else come off the plane ... what about the crew, the pilots whatever?’

‘Look at the plane Andy, look around you – what do you see?’

You mean other than a disaster of epic proportions, but I don’t think saying that will help I guess...

He looked properly – it was the first time in what had been several hours that he had looked again, really looked, and it was no prettier than before, although some of the violence in the water seemed to have abated. The water level though seemed slightly higher than before.

‘I see a real mess, is what I see. Do you remember much of what happened before we crashed?’

‘I really don’t know – one minute we were starting to descend towards Cape Town and next thing is the sun seemed to blink and things seemed to go haywire from there.’

‘Huh?’

‘Well, we seemed to be doing okay until we hit a, what do you call it, you know where you drop suddenly?’

‘An air pocket?’

‘Yes, one of them and then it went pitch black and I mean pitch black like the sun turned off. Then there was this massive bang or maybe it was the other way around but next thing I knew we had hit the water and you know the rest. But that couldn’t have happened as I am saying it because things must have happened in between. But I cannot remember. Are you telling me that you never heard or saw any of that?’

‘I don’t know … I think I was dozing when this presumably happened, but I do remember flashes like I told you earlier. There was so much panic going on, so right this minute only what you’ve told me. But what I remember of all this seems more a bad dream rather than reality, but obviously, that’s not the case.’

He now looked at the plane closely. If you listened – really listened carefully, then in amongst the noise of the sea itself, the nonstop