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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Apr 29, 2007 17:34:38 GMT -5
Jungle area where Henry Gale's balloon sits in one of the trees with his grave below. Location found in box D3 below: Far off shot of Othersville in relation to the crash sites:
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Post by ana on Apr 30, 2007 18:27:26 GMT -5
SAMANTHA
The odds of surviving a plane crash are about four hundred thousand to one. The odds of surviving two, well Samantha couldn't even imagine. She counted herself lucky to have escaped relatively unscathed yet again.
Only moments ago, she had been two miles up, relaxing in her luxorious Business Class seat on flight 815, indulging in a little mystery with Arthur Conan Doyle's greatest detective and trying to ignore the drunk pop diva that was wandering up and down the aisles with a champagne bottle. That was until deja vu kicked in and the screaming started.
When she was twelve, the exact same thing happened. It was the sounds that she remembered most. Children screaming in terror. The screeching and creaking of tearing metal and the heavy sound of engines trying desperately to keep the plane in the air. All in vain, of course. The plane crashed and everyone died. Except her.
But Samantha counted on those odds and though the tragedy had affected her greatly, it never stopped her from boarding another plane. Or helicopter. Or anything that could go fast enough to kill her if something should go wrong. Fear of not being in control anymore didn't even occur to her. She lived for the experience and the thrill of something new. Perhaps it was that she felt luck was on her side now.
However, when you find yourself lying in a jungle after the second plane crash of your life, you start to wonder if luck isn't just a sick twisted individual that likes to lull you into a false sense of security just so it can pull the rug from under your feet and laugh at you when you land on your backside.
Once she'd regained conciousness and her mind had pieced together the facts of what had happened and where she might be, Samantha started to assess whether or not she'd been injured. Her back was sore, in fact her whole body was sending her brain signals that all wasn't well, but she reasoned that was more to do with the fact she was lying on rough ground, and her decent from the crashing plane had taken her on a rather bumpy journey through the branches of the tree she was now in the shadow of.
Gingerly, she sat upright, satisfied that nothing was broken and began inspecting the various cuts and bruises that she'd amassed in the space of two minutes. None of them proved to be life threatening, which was a blessing, since there appeared to be no-one around who could help anyway.
"Hello?" She called out, seeing that the long grass around her might have concealed an injured person. "Anybody there?" She held her breath for a second as she listened. Nothing. Just the sound of the wind gently breezing through the foliage. It was at that moment as she glanced around, that she noticed the huge smiley face hanging down from the limbs of the tree behind her, like a giant bright canopy casting a dark shadow over her. Given the kind of day she was having, such a bizarre sight hardly registered.
"Right then....." She muttered.
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Post by ana on May 4, 2007 15:20:15 GMT -5
SAMANTHA
Rather un-gracefully, Samantha got to her feet and brushed herself off. The long, flowing white skirt she had been wearing on the plane was now in tatters. Torn by the fall through the rough branches above her and bloodied by several shallow gashes on her thighs. Her pale yellow linen shirt had also suffered from the fall, as all the buttons had been torn off and half of one sleeve was hanging by mere threads. As she looked down, she found she was also only wearing one shoe.
"Marvellous." She said aloud in a very dead pan tone.
For a few minutes she hunted for her missing heel, but only succeeded in finding a crudely made grave marker. Two branches roughly fastened together underneath the fabric in the tree. Samantha scratched her head, bewildered by the oddness of it. Clearly it couldn't be the grave of someone from her flight. She felt sure she hadn't been unconcious long enough for someone to have dug a grave and filled it in again. Had she? If she had, whoever dug it must have seen her lying on the ground, so why didn't they try to wake her? And where were they now?
On closer inspection, she observed that the earth was quite well compacted. This wasn't a new grave at all. Though that did give her hope that maybe there was someone living nearby. Since there was precious little wreckage and absolutely no sign of anybody else near by, she had no other choice but to start walking and hope to find help. She'd managed it before, she could do it again.
Fortunately, her pendant had survived the crash and hadn't garotted her as she plummeted through the tree. Hidden beneath the silver disc on her chain was a small but accurate compass. Samantha had learnt over the years it was an invaluable tool to have when wandering in remote places. And right now, she was definately lost.
With her bearings now found, so to speak, she made a swift judgement call as to which direction she should head. North seemed like as good a plan as any so she set off in that direction, pausing once to kick off the remaining heel she was wearing and carefully starting out once again.
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on May 7, 2007 16:22:27 GMT -5
***SEVERAL HOURS PASS SINCE THE PLANE CRASH AT 4:16 PM. IT IS NOW EVENING***
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Post by ana on May 12, 2007 12:01:05 GMT -5
**Samantha heads towards C3 - Preston's House**
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on May 24, 2007 4:10:03 GMT -5
***DAY 1 ENDS, DAY 2 BEGINS*** ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ DAY 2 ENDS, SEVERAL HOURS HAVE GONE BY, DAY 3 BEGINS
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