Flight 203

CHAPTER 4

Tom grabbed the axe right before he went down. The body looked just like a humans, but the teeth were those of nothing at all.
It chomped down on his shoulder, making blood spurt out. He slammed the axe down on its head. It dug into the thing, and the "animal" lost its grip.
Tom was able to pry its teeth out of his shoulder, and shoved it away. He grabbed the axe back, and whacked it on the thing three times.
Then his legs buckled and he crumbled to the ground. Rain splattered on his head. He moaned in agony; the pain was excruciating. He looked over at the thing he had just killed. It had a firm body, with muscles that could kill an elephant with one swipe. A large hat with fingers on the back sat on his head.
"Oh my god." Tom thought. "What the hell is this?" He gripped the axe handle tighter.
He slowly crawled to the trees, stopping to rest every few seconds. When he got to the trees, he went under a bush. His hands held onto his legs, pulling them under his chin.
His teeth chattered as the rain fell from the sky. Then he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep...

Tom woke up. The rain had stopped, and the hole in his chest had stopped bleeding. He sat up straight, getting the axe from beside his "bed" of leaves.
He stood up slowly and felt almost no pain. It was still there, though. He winced.
"I need to find food." He said to no one in particular.
Tom walked over to the plane. Several bags of peanuts and water bottles lay scattered around on the burnt grass.
He picked a bottle up, gulping its contents down his esophagus. When he finished, he ravenously tore open a bag of dry-roasted peanuts. He chowed down on that.
"That was the best thing I've tasted in my entire life." He thought.
Tom picked up several more bottles and bags, shoving them deep into his jean pockets. "I need to make a camp."
He walked over to a bush; grabbing and tearing off the branches. He walked farther into the forest and found a small cliff. He set the branches angled against the wall, and crawled under them.
Another screeching sound went through the trees.
"Oh crap!" He whispered.
He threw down the rest of the branches he was carrying and got a better hold on the axe. Three things walked out of the brushes, carrying pointy sticks that could seriously hurt. One carried a torch to light up the surroundings. It looked straight at him, pointed, and screeched. Then the rest looked at him, and ran toward him.