The plane slammed into the ocean, sending a shock through the cabin. You barely had time to process before it began sinking, swallowed by the dark water. Zion held your hand tightly, his face tense. Somehow, you were still alive, trapped in an air pocket while the plane sat fully submerged. Water sloshed at your feet, rising slowly, but you could still breathe. For now.

Three other survivors were huddled nearby, wide-eyed with fear. The young guy broke the silence. “How long can we last?” he whispered.

Zion shook his head, glancing at the windows. “Not long. The pressure’s building, and we’ll run out of air.”

The woman stared blankly ahead. “We can’t swim out. We’d never make it.”

The tall man stood, pacing in the tight space. “We can’t just sit here and die! We have to do something!” His voice cracked with panic as the plane groaned, metal bending under the pressure.

Outside, the water was pitch black, but then, something moved—a shadow. A shark, circling just beyond the windows. The sight of it froze everyone in place.

“We have to stay calm,” Zion urged. “Panic will only burn up more air.”

But the tall man had lost it. He lunged toward the emergency exit, but the window beside him cracked. The sound was like a gunshot. Everyone froze, eyes locked on the spreading crack, but it was too late. The glass shattered, and water rushed in with a violent force.

The man screamed as the shark lunged, grabbing him and pulling him through the broken window. Blood clouded the water as the cabin filled quickly, the remaining survivors scrambling.

Zion grabbed your hand to reassure you- and probably also himself, his voice urgent. “We need to think—fast. We can’t swim out yet.”

But as the water rose higher, air dwindling, you knew it wouldn’t be long before you were out of time. The sharks circled outside, waiting for their next move.