Charles woke up. For a brief moment he thought it was Sunday morning, then he quickly remembered the terrifying descent to the ground and that this definitely was not Sunday morning. He tried to open his eyes, becoming aware of the familiar metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Only one eye seemed to open, he moved a hand up to his face and was met with the warm glue of blood. He blinked a few times and slowly the vision came back, as the blood that had pooled cleared from his eyelid.
“Christ, I knew to not trust these bloody things.” He said to no one, whilst scrabbling around for his harness release.
He hadn’t thought this action through however and as soon as the clip was released, he was deposited roughly on to the ground, on his head. He was shortly followed by his cousin, who fell out of the plane several feet behind him, their eyes meeting as they lay on the cold ground.
A few moments later, the surviving pilot appeared on the ground next to Charles.
“Well I guess this means we are walking.” Said Charles gingerly standing up.