Andre Williams had found his own bag.

When he had discovered his backpack among a pile of trashed luggage, it was all he could do to stop himself from letting out a joyful cry.

Well, maybe not joyful.

More like relieved.

Andre knew exactly what was in his bag.

Exactly what he wanted.

No, exactly what he needed.

He unzipped his bag and rummaged around inside, probing for the one item of use in his whole pack.

The only important thing.

As soon as his fingers closed around his inhaler, Andre pulled it out.

He sighed from relief, visibly relaxing.

His inhaler didn't look damaged at all. In fact, it looked as good as when he had put it in his bag, just that morning.

Was it only half a day ago?

Earlier that morning, he had placed the inhaler in his pack.

Then the school bus picked him up and took him to the airport.

It was hard to believe.

Hard to believe that so much could change in such a short amount of time.

Andre glanced at the watch strapped to his wrist.

Only five hours ago, he had stuffed the inhaler into his pack.

And only three hours ago, he had boarded the plane, to go to Honolulu, Hawai'i.

That hadn't worked out, had it?

Andre wondered why the plane had crashed.

He thought back to the first sign of trouble on the airplane. Though the memory was hazy and brought a terrifying, panicked feeling that squeezed his throat, he remembered some of what the captain had said.

Over the speaker, he had called that the plane was experiencing 'extreme power failure'. That the instruments were all failing.

What could cause that?

Had this island somehow... corrupted the technology? Caused it to fail?

Kind of like the Bermuda Triangle, where aircraft and ships disappeared, and the flight instruments went haywire.

Whatever had caused the crash, that didn't matter anymore.

All Andre needed to focus on was staying safe until the rescue.

And having his inhaler was a key part of that.

In fact, he was surprised he hadn't needed it before.

It was strange that he hadn't gotten an asthma attack during the crash, or after it had happened. He guessed he should just consider himself lucky. He wasn't safe until rescue came. Not really. Not safe like the other kids. The healthy ones.

Until rescue came.

Would rescue come?

Of course. Of course it would come. Air traffic control would have tracked their flight path with the plane's black box, right up until the moment of the crash itself.

Andre shook the inhaler for a few seconds and then lifted it to his mouth. He pressed his lips around the mouthpiece and depressed the canister. As he breathed in, he felt the coolness of the medication as it filled his lungs.

After they found the location of the crash site, the government would send search and rescue helicopters to check for survivors. The teams would find everyone on the island, and they would be saved.

After that, it was a straight path home.