Ryan lay on the shore of the island, cold, out of breath, and thoughts of his mother running through his head. Ryan stood, wiping sand off of him and headed into the woods. The woods were dark and the trees were packed close together, casting huge shadows on the grass. Cold wind blew through the trees, making Ryan even colder. He decided to build a fire; he found a small clearing and laid his stuff down. He went through the woods collecting sticks and pinecones, he made a circle with rocks and but the sticks in the middle, creating a pyramid. He realized that he would need some dry leaves to start the fire. He collected the leaves and laid them on top and in the middle of the pyramid; he grabbed two rocks and began to smash them together, trying to create sparks.

It took Ryan many tries to get sparks, and many more to finally start the fire. When he started the fire, he went to grab extra sticks and pinecones to keep the fire going. When he returned he laid them down next to the fire and sat down and leaned on the trunk of a tree. He sat in the warm light of the fire, eyes heavy and body sore. The sun was setting in the trees, making it all the more eerie. He grabbed the last pack of pretzels; before he ate them he counted how many packets were left. Ten peanut packets and seven cracker packets. Ryan leaned back on the tree again and ate the pretzels, wishing he had someone to talk to. His eyes got heavier and heavier, and soon he slept in the orange glow of the fire.

Ryan woke up to the sound of bushes rustling; he jumped up and grabbed his carving knife from his bag. He gripped it in his hand, ready for whatever was to jump out. A moment later a gray and white rabbit jumped out right past Ryan. He began to chase it through the woods and when he got as close as he could, he dived and caught the rabbit. He plunged the knife into its throat and it stopped squirming in Ryan's hands. He stood up, rabbit in hand, and wiped himself off. He looked around for the glow of the fire and saw two light sources, one smaller than the other. He headed to the smaller one; curious to what was there. He hoped it was someone who could help. He pushed aside branches. A small wooden cabin sat in the middle of a large clearing, a single candle in the window. Hopeful and excited, he ran back to the camp to get his stuff. He picked up his black and blue duffle bag and ran back to the house. When he got to the front porch, he slowed. He knocked on the door, lightly at first but when nobody answered he knocked harder. Nobody answered so Ryan tried to twist the doorknob but it was locked. He tried the window next to the door and it slid open hesitantly. Ryan climbed in and laid his stuff on the ground, and headed into the center of the room. He looked around, the cabin was bare except for a wooden table and a few chairs and the only light was the candle on the windowsill. He wondered who had put that candle there and where they went. A fireplace sat in the corner of the room, wood already lying inside. He grabbed the rocks that were still inside his bag and the leaves and sprinkled them on the wood. He began to smash the rocks together again to make the fire, and on the fourth try the fire started. He grabbed a chair and sat in front of the fire, warming his hands by holding them up to the fire. Soon, he fell asleep again.

Ryan woke up with the sun shining in his eyes and he was on the floor. He stood up and stretched his arms and back, walking outside the cabin into the cool morning air. If Ryan weren't stranded on an island he would've enjoyed the cabin. Then he turned to the ocean suddenly as he heard the whirring of helicopter blades spinning, he ran frantically into the house to grab his bag, after he grabbed his bag he sprinted through the trees. While jumping over branches and brush, Ryan kept his eyes glued on the helicopter. He also noticed a huge black painted boat, loaded with men. They were swimming in the water and collecting the pieces of the plane left floating in the water. Ryan ran faster, adrenaline running through his veins. He jumped down a small ledge and stopped at the beach, he began to jump up and down.

"Over here! Help!" Ryan yelled frantically

One of the men on the boat pointed at Ryan and yelled something Ryan couldn't understand. Suddenly the sound of machine guns filled Ryan's ears, confused he clambered up the ledge and hid behind a tree. He heard smaller boats splash in the water and come to the shore, he heard a man say in a foreign language 

"Kuchukua mvulana kwa fidia!"

Ryan began to run but the same voice said with a heavy accent,

"Don't run boy! Or I tell men to shoot!" 

Ryan stopped with his hands up, and turned around. There were four men, all holding AK-47's and were pointing at him, they were all black and three wore black ski masks except for the one in the middle. 

"Come with us." The man in the middle said

Ryan faltered but sped up as the men rose their guns threateningly. One of the men tied Ryan's hands and pushed him on the boat. When all of the men were on the boat they headed towards the freighter. Ryan understood now, they were pirates and he was their prisoner.