THE SEMIFERALS

[ The flight itself wasn't supposed to be too long - only six hours or so. And up until it all went sideways, it'd been fine; some of the kids had paired off, making small talk with those sat closest to them. Others kept to themselves, tuning out with headphones in or with books. A couple of boys a couple of seats from the front had fallen asleep on each other. Some faces were plastered to the windows, as if there was much else to see other than the vast expanse of ocean.

One minute it'd been smooth sailing, the next there'd been turbulence. And then that's worsened considerably, and it'd rapidly become transparently clear that they were taking a one-way, nose-first detour into the Pacific. Though perhaps by divine intervention or sheer, what're-the-odds chance, the plane had gone down a couple of miles from an island's shoreline.

Some woke up practically washed ashore, others weren't so lucky, left to flounder for any floating debris large enough to hold their weight. Regardless of where or how they woke up, one thing was abundantly clear. They were all equally, undeniably fucked. ]