”Hey! He’s awake grab a doctor will ya?!” When you open your blurry eyes, you see me, a good friend of yours, and fellow pilot. Medics rush over, blood pooled around you and pieces of your plane were everywhere, you sat slumped in the seat of the broken plane and the window was broken so the medics or I could carry you out, I put my arms under yours and pull you out of the plane, the medics lay you down. ”Thank you, George, you’ve been a good help.” one of them say as they clean a forehead wound with a small wipe rubbed with alcohol, most of them had stitches and wipes and bandages. I sit beside you and grab your hand, interlocking our fingers. ”…I’m glad you’re alive…”